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“How did you get into, erm, fixing?” I asked, finding myself wanting to know more, wanting all the pieces to the puzzle.
“I went to school for law in the first place.”
Law?
Now that made no sense.
How does one go from being on the right side of it, to doing everything in his power to obstruct it?
“Okay, that is going to need more explanation.”
He gave me a small smile. “Eighteen, I went into the military knowing they would pay for my college. There was no way my parents could.”
“Is this the part where you say I saw some shit. It changed me?”
He snorted a little at that, but shrugged. “That wouldn’t be the wrong way to put it. I did see some shit – and do some shit – that changed me. It was also where I met Smith. And Finn. But regardless of that, I did finish law school. Passed the Bar. Spent about a year doing that before I couldn’t fucking take it anymore. From there, things just fell into place. I had contacts. I knew how to get some interesting things done. People were willing to pay a lot to have those things done.”
“You never had a moral dilemma about it?”
“I won’t lie about it. I deal with a lot of scumbags. More scumbags than good people. But sometimes it is a less seedy job like burying a decade-old lesbian affair for a married woman who is about to become the first female CEO of a giant corporation. Or getting rid of any possible evidence that some poor, idiot politician’s kid took a drug tour across Europe.”
“Poor politician’s kid?” I asked, voice dripping with skepticism.
“If you met this politician, you would understand why this kid turned to drugs. Never saw a snake wearing a suit before that day he came to me.”
I guess I could understand that. I had only maybe ever come across two politicians that I didn’t think were corrupt weasels out for themselves first. “Why did you move to Navesink Bank? Your website said you had been here only a few years,” I clarified.
“I’ve never come across a more corrupt police force than this one. I’m not in the business of paying off cops, but they’re a lot less likely to be trying to come off as cop of the year if they’re on the take. So no one even looks our way here. Plus, with all the shit that goes on in this town, it drums up some business for us too.”
“Is it dangerous? Fixing?”
“Depends on the job. Miller and Kai are in the minefields the most.”
“Kai? Sweet Kai?”
“Sweet Kai is a fucking adrenaline junkie. If he’s not on a crazy ass job, he is jumping off some cliff, out of some plane, climbing some impossible wall. Says he had to make up for the boring nerd he was all growing up.”
“He has a thing for Jules,” I observed, curious if they knew. Or if they were too dense about that kind of thing.
“He’s got an epic, unrequited, once in a lifetime thing for Jules. Ever since her first week on the job.”
“It’s sweet.”
“It’s sad,” he countered.
“Because Jules doesn’t reciprocate.”
“Because I think Jules is clueless. Thinks it is just Kai being Kai. And she maybe has a sisterly attachment to him. But he thinks she is the holy grail. So no other woman is ever going to be able to measure up.”
Okay.
Maybe that was kind of sad.
I hadn’t thought of it that way.
I maybe already pictured them finding love some day and having adorable Korean and Irish – I am assuming given her red hair – babies.
That was a bit fanciful and romantic of me, I guess.
“Don’t look so crushed, babe,” Quin said, giving me what I could only call a warm smile, something that seemed strange coming from him. “Were you already picturing them with a white picket fence, two-point-five kids, and a Golden Retriever?”
“Shut up,” I said, feeling a smile tugging at my lips. A real one. Just half an hour before, I would have said that that was impossible.
“Admit it. You were hearing wedding bells and the low rumble of a,” he started, then stopped to swallow hard, like what was to follow was truly horrifying, “mini-van.”
“I didn’t figure you for the teasing type,” I observed, feeling an odd bit of warmness in my stomach that I hadn’t felt in so long that I almost couldn’t name for what it was. Attraction. And more than just the physical kind.
“I’m usually not,” he told me but seemed unbothered by an uncharacteristic shift in his nature. “What can I say, the idea of a guy like Kai cruising down the road in a minivan with a set of those ridiculous stick-figure families on the back window brings it out of me.”
“Jules running around the sidelines at little league with those six-inch ankle-breakers on…”
