AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"But he is a vigilante. And a true believer, not just some guy taking advantage of an underserviced wedge of the market."
"Still trying to wriggle out of this without making a decision, Nadia?"
"Of course not," I snapped, a little harder than I meant, annoyed by her switch from Dee to Nadia. I covered it by continuing. "You said you want me because you're interested in this 'angle' of mine. But Quinn has it, so I think I'm entitled to ask a question or two."
"And make sure I'm not misleading you? Tricking you into something?"
"I'm being careful."
"Good girl. So why you and not him? Fair question. For Quinn, it's all up here--" She tapped her head. "Cerebral. He sees injustice and, as a cop, as a moral man, he's outraged. But there's no fire here--" She patted her stomach.
"But Quinn's good. Even Jack admits it."
"Technical skills, attention to detail, creativity, brains, all that can make you a damned fine hitman, and Quinn has it all. But to be better than fine, to be legendary, you need that drive. Me, I had some, but not on your scale. I've only ever seen that kind of fire once, a different sort--the worst case of 'fuck the world' rage you've ever seen. Without training? Suicide. You take too many chances, trying to dowse those flames. You burn yourself up." She met my gaze. "Seen any symptoms of that lately, Nadia?"
I said nothing. She pushed to her feet, muttering about her knees, then wished me good night and headed to the bathroom.
I didn't sleep. Couldn't. That never fails. If you have a big day coming, and you know you need your rest, then you won't be able to find it, and the longer you lie there, the more anxious you get, which only keeps you awake.
What really kept me awake that night, though, was my conversation with Jack. I believe in honesty. Always have. But brutal honesty is, well, brutal. It rips the scabs off wounds you've tried so hard to heal.
He hadn't said anything I didn't already know. No matter how hard I'd worked to get my life back on track after Wayne Franco, that track was closed to me forever now. I'd never be a cop again. Marriage, kids, a house in the suburbs--none of it had ever ranked very high on my list of life goals, but there's a difference between not wanting something and not being able to have it.
Sure, I could find a guy willing to overlook my past--I'd had plenty who'd offered--but I wasn't as willing to let anyone try, not after Eric. And I was never bringing a child into this world to grow up under the shadow I'd cast. If I really wanted those things, I could move to another country and start over, under a new name, but that was something I'd never more than fleetingly considered.
There were people who would give a damn if I didn't come back from this trip. Emma and Owen and a handful of friends, like Mitch and Lucy. A pitiably small group, none of the ties as close as those I'd once had. I no longer let people get close, not after everyone who should have stuck by me didn't. My mother, my brother, my lover, my friends, my extended family--some tried to hang on after "the Incident," but none tried very hard and when I'd finally packed up and left, I'd heard a collective sigh of relief.
If I died on this mission, I couldn't help wondering whether my funeral would be like Kozlov's, where news cameras outnumbered the mourners. That's a shitty thing to realize...and a shittier thing to make someone realize.
Damn Jack.
After two hours of tossing and listening to the hitches in Evelyn's breathing as my restlessness disturbed her sleep, I grabbed a pillow and blanket, crept from the room and set up on the sofa.
About thirty minutes later, I drifted off. But when sleep came, it didn't come soundly, and the moment I lost consciousness I slid right into my nightmare.
I was out of that endless forest and running through a field. I could see the Millers' house ahead. I'd stop there, call my dad--
Something flashed over my head. I looked up, and saw the wire. My hands shot up to block it, but it flew down, passing right through my outstretched palms and into my throat.
I couldn't breathe. I kicked and flailed, but the wire only cut deeper. Then it changed. Not Wilkes's wire, but a knife point, digging into my throat.
Aldrich laughed.
No! He couldn't have followed. He'd finished with me and was busy with Amy now. I had to get help. To save her--
"Save her?" His voice whispered in my ear. "You aren't saving her, Nadia. You're running away. Abandoning her."
"No!"
As the word ripped from my throat, the world dipped into black. Something whispered across my cheek. A touch, a hand, brushing back my sweaty hair. Cool skin against mine. The faint smell of soap.
"Nadia...?"
I opened my eyes. Jack sat on the edge of the sofa, his hands smoothing my hair.
I groaned. "I'm making a habit of this, aren't I? How many partners have you had to comfort after nightmares?"
"Don't work with partners."
