Made to Be Broken

Chapter Twenty-three

I had trouble getting away. One couple who'd booked a twilight canoe ride decided over dinner that they'd love to tour the range first. They weren't pushy or demanding, but it's hard to say no without a good excuse.

Jack came to my rescue, saying he knew I wanted to check out a downed fence section, so he'd give the range tour. After dinner, I gathered my fence-mending tools and headed out.

I'd told Quinn to meet me at the service lane near the back of the property. I could have driven there, but it was a warm evening and I needed the walk. When I got to the spot almost ten minutes early, he was already there.

He sat on a log with his back to me. He'd changed into a T-shirt and jeans, the shirt tight over broad shoulders, muscles tense. He stretched his legs, crossing them at the ankles, then pulled them in. One hand drummed the log. The other peeled bark from an old birch. His legs went out again. Back in. As nervous as a twelve-year-old waiting in the woods, not sure his "date" will show.

"Trying to kill my trees?" I asked.

He turned so fast he slid backward, awkwardly catching himself before tumbling to the dirt. A sheepish laugh as he stood, brushing the earth from his hands.

"I thought you'd be coming that way," he said, pointing at the path he'd been watching. "Which is probably the opposite direction to your place, isn't it?"

"It is."

"Lousy sense of direction."

Silence fell, then hung there, awkward. He made a show of looking behind me.

"No chaperone?"

"Not tonight."

"I'm not sure if that's a good sign or bad." He peered into the woods. "If you see a little red dot of light on my forehead…?"

"I'll let you know."

He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Man, Jack was pissed. Not that he didn't have a right to be, if I'd done what he thought I did, hunting you down."

I leaned against the tree he'd been picking at. "Re mem ber when we first met? Accidentally bumping into you and Felix when Jack had been deliberately keeping me away from you guys? Well, he wasn't just being his usual… overcautious – "

"Paranoid."

I smiled. "Paranoid self. He hadn't wanted us meeting because of my background and your job. He was afraid…"

"Of exactly what happened. That somehow I'd figure out who you were."

"After that run-in, Jack decided keeping me hidden would only raise more questions. There wasn't much chance you'd heard about my case, much less would remember me even if you had. But, now, he feels respon sible."

"I can see that."

I sat on the log. As Quinn lowered himself beside me, he pulled his ID card from his pocket, upside-down.

"If you really don't want to see this, I understand. But I'd like you to."

I took the license and read it: home address, date of birth, and his real name.

" Quincy?"

"Don't laugh."

"I'm not."

"If you try any harder not to, you'll give yourself an aneurysm."

I sputtered. "Okay, sorry, it's just… you don't look like a Quincy."

"I haven't been one since kindergarten, when my teacher misread the list, called me by my middle name, and I decided to stick with it."

I looked at the card. "Robert."

"Rob, usually, but yes."

"So Quincy… Quinn."

"Not the most original nom de guerre. Jack grumbled about the stupidity of picking it, but it was kind of a personal thing. First action flick I saw as a kid had a hero named Quinn, and then I heard the song 'The Mighty Quinn,' and so…"

"You went through a phase of wanting to be called Quinn?"

"It was more of an alter ego. Like when you play games, and you need to call yourself something? I was always Quinn, who, let me tell you, was way cooler than Robbie."

"I'll bet."

"Of course, I grew up and I'm totally over that now."

"I suppose you'll want me to keep calling you Quinn."

"Up to you." A sly look my way. "But I won't complain if you do."

I laughed, my gaze on the card still in my hands. When I looked up again, his face was right there, above mine. I blinked, and he pulled back.

"So this job you're working," he began.

"Job? Ah, right. The reason we're out here. It's not a job. More of a… private investigation."

I told him the story. In his face, I saw everything I'd felt: concern, dread, grief, rage, then disgust and fury at Sammi's fate. Sometimes, reading a newspaper article and feeling grief or outrage for a victim I've never met, I think there's something wrong with me. Seeing that in Quinn's face was a vindication.

"I'm sorry," he said when I finished.

"I didn't know her that well. Can't even say I liked her very much."

"But you helped."

"I don't think I – "

"You did."

Even without knowing about Amy, Quinn understood what consumed me – fear that I'd failed Sammi.

"I want to help," he said. "I can research similar disappearances."

"Which could risk your job."

"Nah, I'm an old pro at covering my tracks. I'll get whatever you need. I just wish I could do more, that I could stay and help."

He put away his license. Then we sat there, the silence turning awkward again.

"I guess you have a long drive to Montreal," I said finally. "And I should be getting back. Jack was taking my guests on a tour of the range."

Quinn choked on a laugh. "I hope they're behaving themselves. And if not, I hope they paid you in advance."

"It probably didn't last long enough for anyone to give him trouble. Locker. Guns. Ammo. Targets. Seen enough? Good. Done."

Quinn started to laugh, then stopped. "Did you say 'range'? You have a shooting range?"

"An impulse buy when I first got the place and had a bit of money left over, from my buyout and such. One of those things you later regret splurging on, but you're kind of glad you did. It's a nice feature for the lodge, too."

"I'll bet. I saw those pictures inside – boating, caving, rock climbing, rafting…"

"The rapids are off the property. Strictly amateur fare. But we have a decent caving system and the lake's nice."

"Man, that's sweet." He shook his head. "Wish I could come up – I mean, theoretically. I know I can't."

"We could work something out, some story, like I'm doing with Jack."

"So, Jack, it's his foot, I'm guessing. He's here to recuperate. How'd he -? No, let me guess. He won't tell you what happened."

"He could, but then he'd have to kill me."

We laughed as I stood.

"Anyway, if you ever want to come up, midweek offseason, there's often no one here. It's a great business, but not exactly profitable."

He looked out at the darkening forest. "So that's why you… do the other work."

"I can't lose the lodge. Not after – Anyway, you're welcome anytime."

We said good-bye and I started to leave. I'd made it almost to the road, when his footsteps thundered behind me.

"Nadia?"

When I turned, he was right there, so close I smacked into him and his arms went around me, as if to steady me, then I saw his face coming down to mine, so sudden I didn't realize what he was doing until his lips were on mine.

For a second, I didn't respond. But the feel of his mouth, of his arms around me, the smell of him, woke the memories from last fall. Good memories.

I needed this. After one failed relationship since killing Wayne Franco, I'd stopped dating, maybe even passed over into avoidance. No, there was no maybe about it. I'd burrowed into the safe cave of avoidance and made it my home. Here was my chance to climb back out. With a guy I liked, one who knew my biggest secret and apparently didn't give a shit. A guy who could never demand commitment or even a standing Saturday night date. The perfect solution, and damned if I was going to be a coward and turn it down.

So I kissed him back. I could feel my body respond, a yearning building into hunger.

But last fall it had been different. Safe. I'd known it couldn't go anywhere. Just fooling around with a sexy guy.

Now the "sexy guy" was Quinn. A friend. Someone who wanted more than a one-night stand.

I might need this, but could I take this chance? Risk losing a friendship for a relationship that might not work out? Maybe I was a coward, but I needed his friendship more than I needed any romantic relationship.

I'd stopped kissing him. I didn't even realize it until he pulled back, looking down at me, confusion and disappointment clouding his eyes.

"I blew it, didn't I?" he said.

I looked up. "No, it's not you – "

"It's not you, it's me. I really like you, but this isn't a good idea. I still want to be friends." A wry, almost bitter smile. "Am I getting close?"

What the hell was I going to say? This was the conversation I'd imagined, only I'd thought it would come from him. Now I could see his feelings hadn't changed. He'd kept his distance in Toronto because he wanted to tell me what he knew first. The honorable thing to do.

"Is it because I know who you are?" he said. "If that bothers you – Hell, I'm sure it bothers you. But it was an accident and I'd never use it against you, Nadia – Dee – " His hand went to his mouth, rubbing his lips. "Shit. You'd think getting past the secret identities would help, but it really doesn't, does it? Just makes things even more complicated."

And there I saw my way out, my excuse to take more time, to not have to make a decision, and, coward that I was, I leapt on it. "It's – it's a shock. I just – Things cooled off between us, and I know we said we were going to back off, but after Toronto, when you didn't seem interested, I thought that was it. Now with this… I just need some time."

A slow smile that lit up his eyes and made my insides twist with guilt.

"I understand," he said, then leaned over and brushed his lips across my forehead. "I won't rush you, Nadia. I want this to work. I really do."