He looked out at the darkening forest. "So that's why you… do the other work."
"I can't lose the lodge. Not after – Anyway, you're welcome anytime."
We said good-bye and I started to leave. I'd made it almost to the road, when his footsteps thundered behind me.
"Nadia?"
When I turned, he was right there, so close I smacked into him and his arms went around me, as if to steady me, then I saw his face coming down to mine, so sudden I didn't realize what he was doing until his lips were on mine.
For a second, I didn't respond. But the feel of his mouth, of his arms around me, the smell of him, woke the memories from last fall. Good memories.
I needed this. After one failed relationship since killing Wayne Franco, I'd stopped dating, maybe even passed over into avoidance. No, there was no maybe about it. I'd burrowed into the safe cave of avoidance and made it my home. Here was my chance to climb back out. With a guy I liked, one who knew my biggest secret and apparently didn't give a shit. A guy who could never demand commitment or even a standing Saturday night date. The perfect solution, and damned if I was going to be a coward and turn it down.
So I kissed him back. I could feel my body respond, a yearning building into hunger.
But last fall it had been different. Safe. I'd known it couldn't go anywhere. Just fooling around with a sexy guy.
Now the "sexy guy" was Quinn. A friend. Someone who wanted more than a one-night stand.
I might need this, but could I take this chance? Risk losing a friendship for a relationship that might not work out? Maybe I was a coward, but I needed his friendship more than I needed any romantic relationship.
I'd stopped kissing him. I didn't even realize it until he pulled back, looking down at me, confusion and disappointment clouding his eyes.
"I blew it, didn't I?" he said.
I looked up. "No, it's not you – "
"It's not you, it's me. I really like you, but this isn't a good idea. I still want to be friends." A wry, almost bitter smile. "Am I getting close?"
What the hell was I going to say? This was the conversation I'd imagined, only I'd thought it would come from him. Now I could see his feelings hadn't changed. He'd kept his distance in Toronto because he wanted to tell me what he knew first. The honorable thing to do.
"Is it because I know who you are?" he said. "If that bothers you – Hell, I'm sure it bothers you. But it was an accident and I'd never use it against you, Nadia – Dee – " His hand went to his mouth, rubbing his lips. "Shit. You'd think getting past the secret identities would help, but it really doesn't, does it? Just makes things even more complicated."
And there I saw my way out, my excuse to take more time, to not have to make a decision, and, coward that I was, I leapt on it. "It's – it's a shock. I just – Things cooled off between us, and I know we said we were going to back off, but after Toronto, when you didn't seem interested, I thought that was it. Now with this… I just need some time."
A slow smile that lit up his eyes and made my insides twist with guilt.
"I understand," he said, then leaned over and brushed his lips across my forehead. "I won't rush you, Nadia. I want this to work. I really do."
Chapter Twenty-four
I found Jack with the guests at the lake, helping Owen prepare for the canoe ride. I apologized for being late, but he brushed it off and kept helping. He even seemed ready to join the excursion, until he found out he'd have to kneel, which wouldn't work with his cast. So he stayed on the dock and had a beer with Owen.
After the trip, one couple wanted to do some dock-sitting of their own, and the other opted for the hot tub. If a couple wants the hot tub, I don't offer to join them. So I took advantage of the break to head to my room and do some research on black-market adoptions. Jack came along, still nursing his beer.
"Saw you didn't take the truck," he said as he closed my bedroom door behind us.
"I like to walk."
"Yeah. On deserted roads. No cell phone. No gun."
"Um, part-time professional killer?" I whispered as I took out my laptop. "I think I can look after myself."
"How? You armed? You need a – "
"Don't say it."
" – dog. Need one. You'd like one, too."
"What I'd like isn't a priority as long as I'm running an inn. If you have any ideas what I could search on, let me know."
He grunted and sat on the edge of my bed. I spent the next hour researching the baby market.
Babies aren't exactly a commodity you can sell on eBay A quick search brought up an old Time magazine article. In it, the writer wondered whether a recent spate of child kidnappings represented an actual crime wave or media hysteria. He imagined editors looking at stories of war and drought and political corruption and saying, "What, no kidnapped kids this morning? Well, find some." If half of those stories were true, you'd be afraid to set foot outside with a stroller.
So how did you sell a baby? Private adoption is illegal in Canada, but I found plenty of sites for it south of the border. Most were likely legitimate, charging only administrative costs. Still, I suspected some were a cover-up for baby-selling, but how to tell? And what I was looking for wouldn't advertise openly. It would be a very small operation – one hitman specializing in finding and kill ing teen mothers, then selling their babies.
Jack helped me dig deeper into the underground sites. That was really Evelyn's forte, but he'd picked up enough to know how to bypass her, which is always a bonus. Tell Evelyn what we were after, and she'd want in – not because she gave a shit about dead teenage mothers, but because it was something shiny and new. Then she'd add it to my chit as a favor owed. If Quinn found more cases like Sammi's, we'd need Evelyn's encyclopedic knowledge of hitmen, so we were keeping our requests to a minimum.
We found nothing. We'd have to wait for Quinn.
What was I going to do about Quinn? I lay in bed, thinking of that.
I should have taken the excuse he offered, not to postpone a decision, but to let him down easy. I'm sorry, Quinn – I just can't take the chance now that you know who I am. But I couldn't close that door. Part of me still wanted to make this work. I'd responded when he kissed me. I'd wanted more. So what if my heart didn't pitter-patter? If I didn't get all weak in the knees? That was romantic nonsense and I'd always been practical about these things.
I'd never fallen crazy in love. Never even fallen crazy in lust. From the time I'd started dating, I'd picked guys that I liked and enjoyed spending time with. So why this sudden need to feel more? That smacked of an excuse, setting hurdles for Quinn that he could never leap.
By my own self-imposed standards, Quinn was perfect. Someone I liked and liked being with. Someone who understood me.
I remembered all the conversations we'd had last fall and online since. The endless discussions of justice and mercy, like the ones I'd heard around my father's poker games through my childhood. Quinn and I didn't always agree, but we were on the same wavelength. We understood each other in a way that I think we both craved.
In Jack, I'd found someone who accepted the worst in me. The killer in me. But that was only one half, and the other part – the cop – he'd never get. He couldn't understand the battle between the cop and the killer, how the two sides attracted and repulsed each other, magnets unable to separate, unable to fit together. In Quinn, I found someone else waging that war. Now, he knew what I'd done. And he was fine with it – so fine he hadn't deemed it worthy of comment.
His biggest concern had been coming clean and reciprocating. But as I lay in the darkness, my mind wandered into that nebulous realm between waking and sleeping, where emotion overshadows thought, and suddenly was horrified by how easily I was taking this. A federal agent knew I was a hired killer… and I was okay with that?