"Fine, give me an
hour."
"No. Give us an hour. Alone. Then we'll talk."
Chapter Four
Nadia
Ikicked myself for not realizing Cypress was more than a regular guest. Jack often said that the average hitman was just a thug who didn't mind killing people. Guys low on the IQ scale and high on the sociopathy one. Which seemed to fit Cypress.
Except those hitmen weren't "pros" like Jack or me or Evelyn. If guys like that knew of Jack, it was by reputation only. And those hitmen weren't still walking around at Cypress's age. That breed wasn't big on planning--they just walked up to a guy and shot him, and then repeated the process until they were caught or killed, which rarely took long. Disposable hired killers. That wasn't Cypress. Nor was I sure he fit "low on the IQ scale." He acted it, but I can, too, having learned the value of a good "dumb chick" disguise.
Cypress's cover story had made sense. "Fucking business in Toronto," he'd said. "But that doesn't mean I gotta stay in the damned city all weekend." I had regulars like him--those who didn't want to spend their off-time in hotel bars with the rest of the solo business travelers. I've even promoted to that crowd at trade shows. Stuck in Toronto for the weekend? We're just an hour's drive away!
And, honestly, if anyone came to the lodge for Jack, they weren't going to check in as a guest. So I understood why I hadn't suspected Cypress . . . but that wouldn't stop me from cursing myself now.
Lost in my thoughts, I walked to our chalet in silence, but I barely had the door closed before Jack pulled me into a kiss that made me forget Cypress. When we separated, I traced my fingers down his shirtfront.
"I hate it when you go away," I said. "But I really like it when you come back."
"Timing sucks."
"Next time you see me with someone from your past? Don't say anything. Just call me back to the chalet so I can get sex before we need to fix the problem."
He chuckled. "Good plan. Trouble is . . ." He waved, and I picked up the sound of guests laughing as they passed close to our house.
"Mmm, yes. Strike that. Only come home between midnight and six, when I can guarantee stray guests won't come knocking on our door. Well, almost guarantee it."
He shook his head and headed into the kitchen. "Need a fence. Electrified."
"If I thought that would stop them, I might actually agree."
Despite warning all guests that the chalet was private property--and erecting discreet signs--we found nose prints on the glass almost daily. People just can't resist the allure of a cabin in the woods. We used to keep the door unlocked until we found a couple succumbing to that allure in front of our fireplace.
Jack started the coffee machine and opened a fresh gift from the pie fairy.
"Emma's welcome home present," I said. "Though I could point out it's still morning."
"Fruit, pastry, it's breakfast food. Just gotta eat it with coffee."
"So Tyrone Cypress . . ." I said as I settled at the table.
"That what he's going by?"
"What's his work name?"
"Cypher."
I arched my brows. "Okay, I hate to give him credit, but that's kind of awesome. Much better than--"
"Yeah, yeah." He handed me a slice of pie. "Better than Jack."
"I was going to say better than Dee."
"You can change it anytime."
"Rebranding's a bitch."