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"I'm not asking you. And you know what? I don't even need to ask her. All I need to do is look at those photos, Jack. There are a few before it, too. Of you two, going out for dinner. A nice, thoughtful dinner, to make poor Nadia feel better. Dressed to the nines, driving a fancy car, walking into an expensive restaurant . . . Yes, that's exactly how I treat my friends when they need a pick-me-up."

"We were taking a break," Jack said. "Having a nice meal. Getting dressed up."

"Right, and let's talk about that. Dressing up. It was a nice suit, Jack, but that dress, Nadia? Hell, that was a dress. Didn't leave much to the imagination."

"Stop," Jack said.

"That's the kind of dress you normally wear for dinner with your mentor, isn't it, Nadia? It must be, because you sure as hell never wore one for me. Tight little black dress barely long enough to cover your--"

"Stop."

"No, Jack, I won't stop. But you can. In fact, you can get the hell right out of this conversation because it doesn't concern you. This is exactly what I expected from you. So we don't have anything to discuss. But Nadia? I expected a little more from her. A little more--"

"Stop right there." Jack moved forward, his voice lowering, gaze fixed on Quinn.

"Why? Because I'm overreacting? Hell, it's not a big deal. I just found out my girlfriend is screwing--"

"She is not your girlfriend," Jack enunciated carefully. "She has not been your girlfriend for a month. She has told you that it's over. Told you again and again. You won't accept it. So she's supposed to wait until you do?"

"No, she's supposed to wait a goddamned decent amount of time before she jumps the first lowlife in sight, like a bitch in heat--"

Jack hit him. I didn't see it coming. I was frozen there, unable to believe what Quinn was saying, when I heard the thwack of Jack's fist hitting his jaw and saw Quinn stagger back. Quinn started to take a swing, but Jack hit him again, hard enough to send him to the floor. Then he grabbed Quinn by the shirtfront and hauled him up.

"Leave now," he said.

"You don't like that, Jack? You don't like being called a--"

"Don't give a fuck what you call me. But you don't call her that. Ever."

"I'll call her whatever--"

"No, you won't. You'll leave. If I thought you meant it? You wouldn't be walking out. But you don't. You blow up. Say things you don't mean. Regret it later. Doesn't make it right. Just too fucking immature--"

"Immature? Oh, that's it. Obviously. I'm immature to be pissed that my girlfriend--"

"She is not your girlfriend, you thickheaded ass. You fucked up and yet somehow, that's her fault, and you're gonna make her suffer because she didn't want to stay in whatever fucking little box you wanted to stuff her in. You lost her, and now you're pissed because you're willing to let her come back, and she doesn't want to. She's moved on--"

Quinn took a swing. Jack managed to duck fast enough to avoid more than a glancing blow, and he tried to back off, but Quinn kept coming at him. Two more dodged blows, and then Jack stopped trying to back him off. He hit Quinn, and the fight began in earnest. And me? I walked away.

They weren't fighting about me. Too much had built up over the past year for it to be just that. And even if it was partly about me, I sure as hell wasn't going to watch them fight, like a princess at a joust. I wasn't going to stop them, either. They were big boys--they'd work it out. So I walked into the bedroom and closed the door.

The fight didn't last long. I heard a few blows. I heard a few words, mostly from Quinn. Jack was right. Quinn didn't mean what he was saying now. He was hurt, and he had a right to be. But that didn't make it okay.

The hotel door slammed. The bedroom door clicked open.

"I'm so sorry."

I glanced over to see Jack. His lip was bleeding. There was more blood spattered on his shirt. He stood there, one hand on the doorframe.

"It's okay," I said.

"No. No, it's not." He dropped his gaze and let out a shuddering sigh. "Fuck."

I got to my feet. He took a step but didn't release the doorframe, arm tightening as he stopped himself there.

His gaze lifted. "Shouldn't have happened. Any of it."

"If you're saying what happened between us was a mistake--"


Tags: Kelley Armstrong Nadia Stafford Mystery