“If I say yes, are you going to call bullshit?”
“Yep.” He paused, his hand still on a sandwich wrapper. He looked over. “Quinn call?”
“No, Evelyn.”
“Ev—” He looked at the food. “Ah, fuck. I fell for it.”
“Don’t feel bad. She tricked me, too . . . into admitting that we’re together by pretending you’d already told her.”
“She could have asked me.”
“Oh, but that would be no fun at all.” I pulled out a chair, sat, and punched a straw into my drink. “That’s not what she was calling about. I’d like to think she wouldn’t send you out into the street, following assassination attempts, just to find out the status of our relationship. There was something else she needed to speak to me about.”
“Supposed to come through me.”
“Yes, except that in this case, she was right to do an end run around you.”
I told him what Evelyn had said. I wasn’t starting a relationship with Jack by keeping secrets. But by the time I’d finished, he looked stunned and a little queasy.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned—” I began.
“No.” He shook it off. “Course not. Just . . . Didn’t think . . . Fuck. I didn’t think.”
“Let’s face it—this is a risk I accepted when I took Paul Tomassini’s first job offer. There was always the chance that I’d be caught and I’d have two choices. Run or accept my punishment.”
He looked over sharply. “Hope there’s no question which you’d choose.”
“In the beginning, honestly, I think I would have given myself up. Gone to jail, because that’s what I would have felt I deserved. Now, though, there’s no question. I’d run.”
“Good.” He paused. “You probably don’t want to talk about it. The possibility.”
“No, actually I do. I’ll feel better knowing I have a plan. If Evelyn tells Contrapasso who I am, and, for whatever reason, they turn me in or threaten to, I’d give the lodge to the Waldens. Then I’d take Scout and leave. You have most of my money in safekeeping, so I’d be okay.”
He nodded. “Got your money. Would get you out. Set you up. New identity. New lodge.”
“A new lodge?” I shook my head. “I don’t think I’d ever be able to do that again.”
“Yeah, you could. Would. I’d make sure of it. Buy it for you.”
“Jack, I’d never let you—”
“Too bad. I would.” He leaned over the table. “I’d do it because I want to and because I can. Got enough money to buy you ten lodges, Nadia, and not a fucking thing I want to spend it on.” He straightened. “Not going to discuss this now. You’ll just argue. Any luck? Never have to discuss it at all. But it happens? You’ll be okay.”
I smiled. “I know I will.”
He squeezed my hand and then gathered the trash from our meal as he stood. “Was thinking while I was out. Few things we can follow up on. Leave Chicago. Head to New York. Couple stops on the way. Safer out of Chicago anyway.”
“Agreed,” I said. “I’ll go pack my stuff.”
CHAPTER 46
We left Chicago. I was driving, but it quickly became apparent that Jack wasn’t going to take advantage of the chance to rest. I pulled over and let him take the wheel. He was stressed and anxious, and it gave him something to do.
Jack had contacted a private-investigator associate—the man he’d used to help him find Drew Aldrich. He was having him dig for any clues on the mystery partner, and we were going to meet up with him in Detroit. Our final destination was New York. Our best lead was there, with the Contrapasso Fellowship.
I napped after that. When I woke, it was after six, and I suggested Jack might want a coffee if he planned to keep the wheel all the way to Detroit.
“Wouldn’t mind a walk,” he said. “Stretch my legs.”
“Absolutely.”
“Saw a sign for a park. ’Bout five miles.”
“We’ll stop there.”
A couple minutes of silence. “Want to talk, too. Some stuff. That okay?”
I smiled. “I am always up for talking.”
“More like listening.”
“I can do that, too.”
We pulled in at the park. It was a small one, unmanned, with signs warning it was closed at night. Dusk was still a couple of hours away, but the tiny lot was already empty.
We parked and headed in.
“Don’t really need the walk,” Jack said as we reached the path. “Just wanted to talk. Not in the car.”
“Okay.”
He lapsed into silence. We walked about half a kilometer before he continued.
“Was thinking. About our talk earlier. Your lodge. Me having money. Got me thinking. I know about you. Where you live. How you live. You don’t know that about me.”
“Not for lack of interest, Jack. If you wanted to tell me, I figured you would, and if you didn’t, I sure as hell wasn’t going to pry.”
“Ask then.”
I hesitated, but I could tell he seriously wanted me to ask. “Okay, where do you live when you’re not on the road? You’ve got a house somewhere, I presume. A condo or something.”
“Nope. Got mailing addresses. Couple post boxes, here and there. Otherwise? Nothing. No house. No apartment. Not even a fucking car. Between jobs? Find a place to stay. Motel usually. Sublet sometimes.”
“How long have you been doing that?”
“Always. Never saw the point of owning. Leaves a paper trail. I travel too much anyway. No reason to stay in one place.”
“So you’ve never been married, I take it?”
He gave me a look.
“Hey, it’s a perfectly valid question. I take it that’s a no. Any kids?”
Another look. “I would have mentioned that.”
I met his gaze. “There were times when, for all I knew, you had a wife, kids, a house in the suburbs and a day job in Connecticut. Yes, I was pretty sure you didn’t, but it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility.”
He nodded. “Should have said more.”
“No, I understood the need for privacy. Now, though, I will ask, and if there’s anything you don’t want to share, just say so.”
“There’s nothing. You want to know? I’ll tell you.” A few more steps in silence. “So, don’t have a house. Or car. Got a few storage lockers. Mostly equipment. Clothing? Buy it as I go. Don’t really have things. Just money. No bad habits to spend it on. Don’t gamble. Don’t use drugs. Don’t drink much. Worst habit? Damn cigarettes. Maybe a pack a week. Doesn’t exactly make a dent in my savings.”
“No, I imagine it doesn’t. And I don’t think I’ve seen you smoke one in a few days.”
“Yeah. Might be wishing for one in a minute.” He cleared his throat. “Asked if I’ve ever been married. Fuck no. Said before about relationships. Don’t do ’em. Should explain better. Don’t really want to.”
“Then don’t.”
“No. Get it out. Make sure you understand. However awkward this is.”
We rounded the next curve in the path before he continued, “Don’t do relationships. Don’t date. One night? Yeah.” He paused. “Even that? Been a while. Getting older. Too much hassle.”
He steered me around a patch of mud. “Probably more than you want to know. More than I should say. Just proof that I don’t know shit about doing this right. Point is, I’m going to fuck up.” He paused. “Don’t mean screw around. Wouldn’t do that. Mean in general. Last time I dated? High school. And, as I’ve said, I dropped out after two years. So . . .” A sigh. “Fuck. That’s embarrassing.”
I laughed. “I didn’t expect you’d have a string of girlfriends across the country. Too much work and too much risk. I’m not exactly an expert in the field myself, as my disaster with Quinn might suggest. I’ve been engaged, as you know. When that ended and the Wayne Franco thing blew up—at the same time—I backed out of the dating scene. So I have no expectations, Jack. I wouldn’t anyway. That’s not how I am.”