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"There is. You have the key. Open it."
"It's not that simple. If it was, anyone with a little knowhow could do it."
"Just open that door. Whatever it costs. Bill me."
"I'm not trying to justify a higher price, Jack. I'd hope you'd realize that. Nor am I stalling. I'm at my computer working on it as we speak. But it's going to take time, and if Dee's in trouble and you have any other way of locating her . . ."
"I don't."
"Then let me do this, and I'll phone you back."
Jack grunted his thanks and hung up. Evelyn waved him back toward the bed, her gun still trained on him.
"Put that away," he said.
"Not until I'm convinced you won't run out the door."
He snorted and backed up to sit on the bed. "Wouldn't run. Just knock you out of the way. You're old."
"Fuck you, too, Jack." She holstered her gun but kept her tailored suit jacket open for easy access. "My role here is to make sure you keep it together, and if that means putting a bullet in you, I will, because I sure as hell don't want to deal with you if you lose her."
He shifted on the bed as he tried to shove that thought from his head. Really not the way to calm him down.
"This is what you need to fix," she said. "Not making sure she's safer. You've done everything you can short of locking her up at that damned lodge of hers, which, by the way, I don't suggest you try, however tempting it might be."
He gave her a look.
She continued. "You don't need to make her safer. You just need to calm down. You love her. Which is a pain in the ass, as you're about to discover. Life's a whole lot easier when you don't give a shit about anyone. But this is your choice. So deal with it. Get off that hamster wheel of this-is-all-my-fault-and-I-have-to-save-her. She'll save herself."
"She's hurt."
"We have no idea what happened, and as frustrating as it is to sit on our asses and wait for Felix to give us her location, that's what we have to do."
Before Jack could answer, a phone rang. He grabbed his only to see that the screen was dark. It was Cillian's, over on the nightstand. He started to scramble for it. Then he stopped, inhaled and closed his eyes for a split second before answering.
"Yeah," he said.
"We have her," a voice said in a thick Spanish accent.
Jack ramped up his own accent as he said, "Wha?"
The man spoke slower, as if communication was an issue. "We have his girl. Dee. She took the bait. We grabbed her."
Jack's heart pounded, but he only grunted. "Now what?"
"Where is he?"
Jack resisted the urge to give another short answer. Cillian liked to talk. So he said, "He's doing the job I set him on, like we agreed. I've been having a fuck of a time with it. He's not a fucking amateur. He wants to get done and get home, and I keep having to find new fucking things for him to do to keep him here."
"We are paying you very well for any inconvenience, so do not whine to me, old man. Your part is almost over. Call him in. Have your men disarm and disable him. I will call in two hours to speak to him."
"Two hours? I'll be lucky if I can even get hold of him in--"
"That is your problem, and I would not advise you to make it ours. Two hours."
"Make sure you have the girl."
"What?" the man said, his voice sharp.
