More quiet walking. I glanced over. Jack was facing forward, muscles tight, gaze distant.
"Hey," I said.
I brushed my hand against his. When he didn't tense or pull away, I hooked my index finger around his and gave a gentle squeeze. I started to let go, but he held my hand there, fingers locked. We walked like that for another minute before he said, "I fucked up."
"I hope you don't mean about shooting that asshole. There's no way we could take the chance he'd come back--after both of us this time."
"Mean him coming after you. My mess."
As his anger surged, his hand clenched mine, reflexively. When he realized, he loosened his hold, but didn't let go.
He looked over at me. "You don't care, do you?"
"About what?"
"That I almost got you killed. Biggest fucking error in judgment since--" He inhaled and shook his head. "I took you to that bar. My idea. We thought he made you. You were worried. I said it didn't matter. I fucked up."
"There was no way to expect Aldrich would recognize me--in disguise--after twenty years. No reason to panic when it seemed as if he did. Neither of us could have foreseen that he'd deal with it by hiring someone to kill me. We know, better than anyone, that it's entirely possible to hire someone to fix problems that way. Yet we never saw it coming because it makes absolutely no sense."
"Could have killed you."
"And that's never been a risk before?"
He made a noise in his throat.
"It's a chance I take every time I accept a job. I didn't get killed today, Jack. I didn't come close. That wasn't dumb luck. I'm careful. Damned careful."
"I know."
"Then you know that however bad you feel about this, I was never in any real danger."
He had nothing to say to that.
Jack still had my hand when we got to the lodge. I don't think either of us realized, until Emma came off the porch to greet us and stopped in her tracks.
We broke contact fast.
"Did we miss breakfast?" I called.
She shook her head and looked from me to Jack. He murmured, "Fuck," under his breath.
"You've got time to wash up before you eat," she said. "Not much, though, so you'd better step to it."
She stayed at the bottom of the steps, drying her hands on a dish towel. As we reached her, she said, "John?"
"Hmmm?" Jack said.
"Can I have a word?"
"Sure."
"I'll be in the kitchen," Emma said. She glanced at me, too quickly for me to read her expression, and then she headed up and inside.
"Fuck," Jack muttered as the door closed behind her. "Feel like I'm sixteen. Got caught sneaking you out for the night."
"Which isn't like Emma at all. Hell, she practically shoves me at every guy who looks my way."
He shrugged. "Differe