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bsp; "I'm sure you were."

She didn't say anything else, but there was a note in her voice that started me cursing.

"Jack didn't tell you about us, did he?" I said.

"He said only that you and Quinn had a falling out. Not the actual cause."

I cursed some more.

"Oh, stop, Dee. If you two were really trying to keep things a secret, you were doing a damn poor job of it. I could tell the minute I walked in on you two giggling on the sofa."

"We hadn't actually--"

"But you were heading there. At warp speed. Until I brought Quinn along. Which I will admit was a mistake. I was trying to goose Jack into making a move by applying a little competitive pressure, only to discover he was already on that path and instead had to throw on the brakes. Which, as I've told him, I will not apologize for. You two have been circling each other so long I was getting dizzy watching."

"Uh-huh."

"But that's not what I called about. Quinn's gone, and he's not coming back."

"I think so."

"That's a statement, not a question. He's gone until this investigation is over. That's how he'll punish you." She paused. "And I sincerely hope you don't think you deserve that punishment."

"No. I feel bad, but it was over. I'd made that clear."

"I'm sure you did. I've never slept with a man and didn't make it damned clear he was renting, and there could be other tenants. He'd say he was fine with that. Then he'd find out someone else was sharing my bed, and you'd think I'd screwed around on our honeymoon. When I said we weren't exclusive, what he heard was me giving him permission to sleep with others. God forbid I should. I suppose not all men are like that, but the ones we hang around with, Dee? Alpha dogs who won't stand for trespass--real or imagined. Quinn's not coming back until you don't need his help anymore. Which means we have a problem."

"I know."

"I may be able to circumvent it, but I need your permission."

I sat up. "My permission?"

"We have little hope of finding Aldrich's partner without Quinn, and I'm not sure we would have found him anyway. The other route is through Contrapasso. I've been laying the groundwork to the point where I can ask about Aldrich. That's too slow now. I need to talk straight with them. Ask about Cleveland and Drew Aldrich and Sebastian Koss."

When I didn't reply, she said, "Dee?"

"I'm here."

"And being quiet because you know what that means, don't you?"

"I do."

"I will do everything in my power to avoid linking you to me. And by 'you,' I mean you, not Dee."

That was the problem. It was fine for Evelyn to go to the Contrapasso Fellowship and ask blunt questions to protect a student. Except the person with a price on her head wasn't Dee. It was Nadia Stafford.

She continued, "There is a chance that to get the answers we need and get this mark off your head, I might have to reveal who you are." Tell them that Dee was me. That their mark was a hitman. That Nadia Stafford was a hitman. "And if I do that . . ."

"I can't be me. Not anymore."

"I wouldn't go that far. This isn't an incompetent gang of thugs who would blackmail you for pocket change. However, if they did know, you would no longer be as secure in your normal life. You would need to be on alert and ready to leave at the first sign of trouble."

"Leave my home, you mean. Leave my life. Which, I know, you don't really understand the appeal of anyway . . ."

"I don't. You could make a very handsome living off your second career, and I completely fail to see the point of struggling at something else instead. But you want it. And, God help me, Jack wants it. He wants it for you, and he wants to share it with you."

I thought I heard a faint intake of breath, as if she'd spoken too quickly, too bluntly, which was never usually a problem for Evelyn.


Tags: Kelley Armstrong Nadia Stafford Mystery