Made to Be Broken (23 page)

Chapter Forty-two

I unlocked the hotel room door with my card.

"Breakfast is served," Quinn called as he slid his tray onto the table. He took mine, laid it beside the first, gestured for Evelyn and Jack to dig in, then swung around to face me. "Flip for first shower?"

"You go ahead. I'll talk to Evelyn."

He sailed toward the bathroom. Halfway in, he spun. "Dibs on the strawberry cream cheese. Anyone else wants it, they gotta arm wrestle me when I get out."

Jack glanced over at me. "Good run, I take it?"

"I think the exhaust fumes go to his head."

"Bouncy, chipper hitmen," Evelyn murmured. "I despair for this generation."

I pulled the coffees from the cardboard tray. "The cream and double sugar is Quinn's. Black for Jack, cream and sugar for Evelyn..." As I handed them out, her blue eyes bored into mine.

"So we're done playing games, I take it, Dee?"

I forced a smile. "I never started."

She eased into the armchair, stirring her coffee. "Getting confident, aren't you? Of course, it's easy when you have a bulldog at your back, ready to snap my hand off if I look at you the wrong way. With that kind of backup, even the most timid mouse isn't afraid to bare her teeth."

I turned to Jack. "Could you give us a moment?"

"Yes, Jack, please. I think Dee wants to try standing on her own feet. Should be amusing."

He looked at me, and I knew he didn't want to go. It didn't have anything to do with defending me against Evelyn. I'd never complained to Jack about anything she said or did when he wasn't around, never hesitated to take her on. To suggest I hid behind him, though, was sure to put me on the defensive.

I should refuse to play. But I couldn't.

After a moment, he left, though clearly not happy about it, and telling me to ring his cell when we were done.

I waited until he was gone, then turned to Evelyn. "Let me put this bluntly – "

Her lips curved, teeth flashing. "Oh, I hope you do. But I doubt it. That wouldn't be polite."

I moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "I hate the games, Evelyn. I don't understand them. I don't want to play them. I think you know that and you get a kick out of seeing me off-balance. I don't want to do this anymore."

"All right, then. Let's speak plainly. I have a proposition – "

"And I'm not interested." I shook my head. "No, obviously that's a lie. You know I'm interested. If I say yes, I'm not putting an end to this game – I'm only launching a bigger, more elaborate one. I'm doing fine with the Tomassinis. I might like something better, more satisfying, but I don't need it."

If I thought I'd gain some points for honesty, I was deluded. Evelyn only narrowed her eyes as she studied my face.

"This isn't open for negotiation, Dee. If you think you can set boundaries – "

"I'm not negotiating."

"If you think I'll come back in a few months, offer it again – "

"God, you don't get it, do you?" I got to my feet and strode across the room. "I'm not playing a game. I'm not trying to win concessions or string you along. I don't want this job or any other job you have to offer. The price is too high."

She sipped her coffee, then settled back in her chair. "Speaking of price, I do believe you still owe me..."

"Yes, I do. You've helped me out with this investigation and I know you expect more than my sincere appreciation. But don't use that as leverage to get me to consider your offer. You need a pro who's willing and committed. If you want to settle up now, fine, let's settle up. What do I owe you?"

She crossed her ankles, eyes rolling back as if thinking. "A job would do it. I think I have one. A cartel wants to send a message to a former associate by killing his family. Wife, couple of kids." She met my gaze. "That's my price, Dee."

I turned away before she had the satisfaction of seeing my reaction. "Then I guess you'll need to find someone to do it and send me the bill."

A moment's silence, then a small laugh. "You couldn't afford it. Not pulling penny-ante jobs for the Tomassinis. Your charming inn takes all that." She flashed her teeth again. "You wouldn't want to lose it..."

When I laughed, she blinked. And, yes, I took some pleasure in that, as small a reaction as it was.

"I hired you for a few days of research, Evelyn. The bill for those services can't possibly be enough to warrant selling my lodge. I'll ask around, get a reasonable price, double it, and pay you back. I should have enough stashed away and, if I don't – " I flashed her smile back at her " – this is one obligation I'll work my ass off to relieve."

The bathroom door banged open. "All yours, Dee." Quinn grinned. "Unless you need someone to wash your back."

I managed a smile for him. "Another time. Get your breakfast while it's warm. And could you call Jack? He stepped out for a smoke."

When I emerged from the bathroom, I fully expected Evelyn to be gone. Fully hoped, too. But she was still there, in the chair where I'd left her, nibbling at a bagel.

"Honcho called," Jack said. "Evelyn mention that?"

"The middleman? Great. We can – " I bit the word off, clipping my tongue. "Actually, no, I think we should back-burner that idea for a while. Play out the others first." I turned to Evelyn. "Sorry for making you stop by for nothing. I would have called and said so, but I wanted a clearer picture of what we got last night. Anyway, we're good for now."

"I'm not so sure about that," Quinn said. "It'll take a while to dig through those files and get anything from them – "

"And you don't have the time. I know that. You can head home whenever you want to. I'll take it from here."

Quinn blinked, taken aback and, from the look that flashed behind his eyes, a little hurt. "I didn't mean that. I've got a few more days and – "

"I know. I'm sorry. I'm tired and it's making me snippy." As I walked by him, I passed him a wan smile. "But I've used enough of Evelyn's help, so I'm going to drop that angle."

As I fixed myself a bagel, I could feel Jack's gaze boring into the back of my skull.

"All set then?" I said as I turned, my voice more brittle than I wanted. I forced myself to look around the circle of eyes. Evelyn's glittering with amusement. Quinn's clouded with confusion. Jack's steady piercing stare.

Evelyn broke the silence. "If you can get the job, Dee, you'll wrap this up. No question. I started this and I'll be happy to finish it for you."

"I can't afford it."

"Can't afford – ?" Quinn began, then turned his surprise on Evelyn, having obviously figured, like him and Jack, she was doing this just to help me out, which proved he didn't know her very well. "Shit, if that's it, I've got – "

"No, please."

Quinn came up beside me, hand on my elbow, voice dropping. "Let's go outside and talk about this. Honestly, I can help and I'd be glad to."

"I can't." I met his gaze. "Please."

"Oh, for pity's sake, Dee," Evelyn said. "It's free, all right?"

"No, it isn't."

Quinn leaned down to my ear. "Let me help. I've got some money and, for something like this, I'd be more than happy to use it."

"Listen to the man, Dee," Evelyn said. "He'd be
more
than happy to help you out. And Jack, too. He's not quite so quick to jump in – never is – but he'll pay me for you. Money, quid pro quo, whatever it takes, he'll pay it. All these men tripping over themselves to help poor, sweet Nadia – "

I spun on her so fast, Quinn jumped back, and whatever Evelyn saw in my face, it made
her
pull back, eyes widening just a fraction. I tore my gaze away, shutting down as fast as I could, eyes moving to the door, avoiding everything in between.

"I'm sorry," I said. "Let me – I'll just walk it off. Give me a few minutes."

Jack found me behind the hotel, sitting on the curb of the delivery lane. He walked over without a word as he knocked a cigarette from the package. I managed a weak smile.

"Found them, huh?"

"This morning. In my bag. Thought you were holding them. Waiting for my story."

I flicked a pebble off the curb. "I'm sorry for making a scene in there."

"That's a scene? Piss-poor one."

Another tiny smile as he lowered himself to the curb.

"Is Quinn freaked out?"

"Confused. Worried."

"Which is exactly what I was trying to avoid. I just couldn't figure out how to tell Evelyn I didn't want her help without him wondering why. It's my best chance of shutting this operation down, which should be my main priority."

"Main priority should be you."

I shook my head, watching the match flicker as he lit it. "No, it shouldn't, not with something like this. But I need to cut ties with Evelyn. I can't play her games anymore. I know I should stick it out, toughen up, learn to roll with the punches and toss a few back. Maybe running away doesn't make me the kind of pro you want me to be – "

"Don't want you to be anything. Just you." He lifted the cigarette, inhaled, exhaled. "So you turned down her offer?"

"I told her I couldn't take the games... which only made her think I was playing one."

A snort carried on a puff of smoke. "She demanded debt repayment. How much?"

I thought of her first words. The family. I'd never tell Jack that, but he must have seen something in my eyes, because his jaw tightened, muscle spasming.

"What'd she ask for?"

I shook my head. "We settled on cash. She suggested I couldn't afford it. I said I would. But the point is, Jack, that I absolutely cannot afford to add to that bill... and I don't just mean the monetary value. If I agree after I've said I won't take anything more from her, then it's right back to the scenario I mentioned yesterday. There's no sense claiming I won't take anything from her, because she knows I will and it's just a matter of price."

"She found Honcho. She contacted him. She accepted the offer. All she's gotta do now? Give you the time and place. Already has that. Might say she doesn't – "

"Which puts me right back where I started, Jack. She'll keep playing her game and I'll keep buying in."

"Not you. Me. From now on? She talks to me."

I rubbed my legs, trying to work the frustration from my voice. "Which
again,
Jack, plays into her hands. You heard her in there, jabbing me because I have you and Quinn helping out. The poor little damsel in distress. The chick who thinks she's a big tough hitman... and hides behind the real ones. That's not who I want to be."

"Course not. Think she doesn't know that? How many times you think
she
got that shit? Starting out? She hooked up with men, too. No choice. What happens? Dis missed as a wannabe. A groupie. Evelyn's been there. Knows how much it hurts. Knows how mad it'll make you. Knows how hard it is to prove you aren't."

He took another drag off the cigarette, then handed it to me. I accepted.

"This whole mess?" he continued. "My fault. I screwed Evelyn over. With you. Don't regret it. But then we needed her. I made a decision. Probably the wrong one." He took the cigarette back and inhaled, expelling the smoke before going on. "Yeah, the wrong one. Not much doubt about that. Rest of the debt? Mine. Only fair."

"Jack – "

"You care what she thinks of you?"

"No, but – "

"It's set then. We make the meeting. Evelyn goes home. You're done with her."

He passed the cigarette back and I took it.

Evelyn did not go home. She insisted on staying to see the contact through. Was she being a responsible go-between and protecting her reputation? Or just having fun pushing my buttons? I didn't care. At that moment, I had two main concerns. One, preparing for this meeting with the Byrony Agency contact. Two, convincing Quinn I wasn't an irrational bitch.

Fortunately, task two was simple. He was confused, nothing more. We went out for a walk and I explained a version of events that skirted the more "interpersonal" issues, like Jack and Evelyn's clash over my mentorship, which would only confuse him all the more.

I also left out any mention of the Contrapasso Fellowship offer. He'd be as excited at the prospect as I was trying hard
not
to be. There are guys who go vigilante because they like killing people and it gives them an excuse they can live with. Quinn wasn't one of them.

Evelyn once said the difference between us was that, for Quinn, the drive to see justice done came from the head. For me, it came from the gut. She had only a casual interest in his cerebral vigilantism. What she wanted to mold was my fire, my passion.

Maybe, but I suspected if I told him about the Contrapasso Fellowship, he'd want in, and I wasn't ready to deal with that – either his hurt when she refused him or the guilt of getting him entangled in her web if she accepted.

What I
did
tell him was that Jack had gotten Evelyn involved in Sammi's murder case by asking her to find a hitman who matched our profile. The expectation was that, because she owed him plenty and they were close, she'd do it with no obligation to me. Today I'd found out otherwise and, spooked, I'd reacted by wanting nothing more to do with her "help." The story made sense to him, so he let it go at that.

Chapter Forty-three

Before I left to meet the client, Jack took me aside for a few words of advice. I tried not to notice the roll of Evelyn's eyes.

We walked behind the hotel again, to the delivery lane, and again he pulled out his cigarettes.

"Still want that story?" he asked as he lit one, cupping the flame against the wind.

"Only if you want to give it to me. And if it won't reveal anything that could compromise your privacy."

He waved me to our spot on the curb and sat beside me. "Nah. Wouldn't care." He exhaled the smoke through his nose. "I trust you. Happened after the job anyway."

He took another drag, then passed me the cigarette before continuing. "Backyard hit. Went down fine. Getting out? No problem. Big yards. Estates. Full of trees and shit. Had my path mapped out. So I'm moving. Not running. But moving. Then there's this wall. Maybe..." He lifted his hand about three feet off the ground. "Knew it was there. No surprise. So I'm coming to it. Lots of time. Could stop. Climb over. But no. Gotta jump it."

He took the cigarette back and inhaled, letting the smoke swirl out as he shook his head. "So I jump. Don't clear it. Foot hits the wall. I topple over. Face-plant into the fucking tulips."

I swallowed a laugh, but not before some of it escaped.

Jack waved the cigarette at me. "See? Told you. Boring and embarrassing. No close call. No fancy trick. Tripped over a fucking garden wall."

"So you miscalculated. That's easy enough to do."

He took another drag. "Nah. Didn't miscalculate. No excuse but age. Mind's willing. Body says 'fuck that.' " He tapped the side of his head, ash tumbling to the grass. "Up here? Still thirty. Top of my game. The rest?" A slow shake of his head. "Starting to disagree. Young man's game. I'm on the side of the hill that goes straight down."

"I don't think you're ready to be put out to pasture just yet, Jack."

"Fifty next year." He slanted a look my way. "Since you'll never ask. But pasture? No. Not yet. Still, gets me thinking. Remember Saul?"

I nodded. Saul was a hitman I'd met last fall, a colleague of Jack's who'd retired only after he'd bottomed out.

"Seeing Saul? I feel..." He toyed with the cigarette, rolling it between his fingers. "Not contempt..."

"Disdain?"

"Yeah." He handed me the cigarette, like a prize for guessing right. "Disdain. Guy held on too long. Rep u ta tion went to shit. Forced to retire. His own fault. Got no time for that. Tell myself 'not me.' But then..." He shrugged. "Maybe it's ego. Bigger than I like to admit. Gotta slow down. Not retire. Just slow down. But like Evelyn says, I'm not good at sitting around."

I handed him back the cigarette and he smoked it to the end, then ground it out against the curb and dropped the butt into his pocket.

"So, when I'm helping you on this job?" he continued. "It's like the rest. Me coming around, teaching, giving you advice. It's not that I think you can't handle it. It's just... something new. Different. Interesting."

He rubbed his thumb across his lips, silent for a moment. "Like those ATVs. Not saying you
need
me to fix them." He glanced at me. "You know?"

"Actually, I do need you to fix them. Owen's been tinkering with them since we got them at auction last winter, and I think they're in worse shape than when he started."

"Yeah. Maybe. But you know what I mean."

"I do. But if you want to come back for a couple of weeks after this is done, get your fill of apple pie and get those babies running for me before the summer crowds start, I certainly won't argue."

"Then I'll do that."

I met the client at three, in a neighborhood park. I wasn't thrilled with a daytime meet. It meant there was no easy way to disguise the fact that I was female.

I dressed as a jogger, making it easy to bulk up. Also an excuse for oversized sunglasses and a hoodie pulled tight. Under the hood I wore a blond wig, with a few strands slipping out, as if by accident.

Because the hood covered my head, Jack wanted me to wear an earpiece. Quinn agreed. I was insulted. I reminded myself that they'd worn them to the Keyes house, but that had been
my
case, so it made sense that I'd want to have a say in the interview questions. To suggest I needed help meeting with a client, and having them both jump in, quick to presume I'd need it? That rankled. I won't deny it. So I refused.

I also refused their offers of backup. It was a public place and a midday meeting with an "amateur" client. There was absolutely no reason I needed my friends hiding fifty feet away, ready to pounce. Having them there would only increase the risk. People were more likely to notice male strangers hanging around a park. And the client might notice them, too.

Even having them there might make me act different. Same with the wire. Better to let me handle it while they waited off-site.

To my relief, neither offered any resistance. Quinn cast a sidelong glance at Jack and, seeing he wasn't arguing, presumed I was right. They agreed to wait in a coffee shop down the street, a phone call away if anything went off track.

I'd scouted the park before arriving. It was maybe three acres, all open. Stretched across the front was one of those bright red and yellow plastic playground structures that had replaced the wooden ones of my youth. Two older swing sets sat forlornly in the corner, one for children, one for babies, both with several of the swings wrapped over the top and a couple of others broken from their chains. Behind that was a brick box that I supposed housed equipment for the ball diamond.

I jogged around the block to work up a sweat so, to any onlookers, I'd seem like a real runner. Not that it mattered. It was a chilly midweek afternoon and the park was empty.

I headed for the bleachers – far enough from the playground that I could talk without whispering, should any parents show up. As I looked around, I realized I wasn't alone. A man stood behind the equipment building, wearing an overcoat, slacks, and dress shoes, his hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders pulled in as if against the chill.

Even if the guy hadn't matched Fenniger's description – thinning hair, narrow face, average height – I'd have known this was my client, and as much an amateur as Fenniger had said. I put my fingers in my mouth, and let out a low but sharp whistle.

The man jumped as if he'd heard a siren. When he glanced my way, I beckoned him over. He looked around, confirming I wasn't waving to anyone else, then squinted at me and, even from where I sat, I could see the faint hope in his eyes that maybe, just maybe, the woman on the bleachers was hitting on him.

I motioned again, more emphatic now. When he didn't move, I walked over.

"I-I'm waiting for someone," he said.

"Yes. Me."

A blank look.

"Through Honcho?" I prompted.

"Er, yes, right, but..." His gaze traveled down me. "I, um, think there's been a misunderstanding."

"Yes, I'm a woman. It's an equal opportunity job these days. If you want gender specificity, you have to request it on the order form."

He stared, a note of panic behind his eyes, as if thinking there really had been a form, and he hadn't gotten it.

"Is it okay?" I asked. "Does the job require a man?"

"N-no. You're fine. Maybe better, even. Sure. Okay. It just... threw me. So, I guess the first thing we do is – "

"Move over there." I waved back where I'd been sitting.

"Isn't here safer?"

"You look like Mr. Suburbanite waiting for his dealer... and I don't look like your dealer."

A nervous twitch of a smile. "Right, right."

I led him to the bleachers. "No one's around, so just play it cool. You came home from the office early and found your wife had gone for her jog, so you caught up with her and now we're having a nice little 'how was your day, honey' chat."

"Right, right."

We sat through twenty seconds of silence.

"You have a job for me?" I said finally.

"Right. I need someone... taken care of."

He put a tiny growl in the last words, as if trying out for a guest spot on
The Sopranos.
I bit my cheek to keep from smiling.

"That's what I figured."

A giggle. "Right, I guess so. Not like I'd be asking you to, uh – " He massaged his throat, unable to come up with anything witty. "The, uh, job. It's this guy."

I blinked to cover my surprise. Another moment of silence. When he didn't go on, I had to clarify.

"You mean the mark is a man."

"Right, right."

The first prickle of apprehension set my arm hairs rising. I resisted the urge to rub them down and kept my face neutral.

"Go on."

"It needs to be done tonight?"

"Tonight?" That time the surprise escaped. I covered it with, "Is he local, then?"

He nodded. "He has a house right here in Detroit. That's where it has to... go down."

"Family?"

His eyes widened, lips parted in an O of horror.

"Is there going to be family in the house?" I went on. "Because that's a problem, and not one I intend to 'take care of "

A slow eye squeeze of relief. He'd thought I meant "do you want the family killed, too?" Further proof that the guy watched way too many crime dramas. That's not to say hitmen aren't asked to murder entire families – like the "job" Evelyn suggested – but it certainly wasn't a request so commonplace that they'd toss it off as easily as asking whether the client preferred a public hit or private.

"There isn't any family to worry about," he said. "He's divorced and lives alone."

My brain raced to figure out how this played into the baby scheme. A teen daughter maybe? Her baby so prized that they'd kill her father, too, the one person who might investigate?

"Any kids?" I asked. "Because they could be sleeping over, even if it's not his scheduled time – "

"No kids."

I stopped my fingers from tapping against the bench.
Move on and figure this out later.
"Okay, so this guy is the first mark, and then you need me to..."

My fingernails dug into the wood as genuine confusion filled his face.

"There's only one mark?" I said. "I was told – "

"Then someone's made a mistake," he said, his voice high, annoyance mixed with anxiety, ticked off that someone had screwed up. "I was very clear. I need – "

His cell phone rang. I waited for him to apologize and shut off the ringer. Instead, without even glancing at the display, he answered, covered the receiver, and told me to give him a minute. In other words, "get lost."

I would have complained if I hadn't been happy for the excuse to get away and collect my thoughts. I motioned that I'd jog around the block and be back in five minutes.