Made to Be Broken

Chapter Thirty-six

When I fed the dogs, I noticed their water bowl had a pair of flies doing the backstroke. So I dumped it and looked around for an outside tap, but couldn't find one. I glanced at the back door. Evelyn had obviously kicked me out so she could talk to Jack, presumably give him shit for letting Quinn onto our case.

Ginger stopped eating, looked at where her water bowl had been, then up at me. When I didn't return her bowl, she lapped rainwater from a groove in the deck.

"Okay, okay," I said. "But if she gives me shit for interrupting, I'm blaming you."

I opened the screen door and lifted my hand to knock. Then I glimpsed Jack's shoulder and arm through the dining room doorway. He was shrugging, talking to Evelyn in the living room again.

I decided knocking would be more of an interruption. Just slip in and get the water. They'd hear me filling the bowl, so I clearly wasn't eavesdropping. It wasn't as if I'd been ordered to stay outside.

I stepped in, prodding Ginger back out as I quietly closed the door.

Evelyn was talking. "Bad enough you don't give that boy a smack upside the head."

"Boy?" Jack snorted.

"I don't care how old he is, he sure as hell doesn't act it. He's like a teenager, chasing after Nadia, barging in on your investigation."

Yep, arguing about Quinn. I headed for the sink.

"Didn't barge in. I invited him."

"That's my point, you dumb fucking Mick. You're not just letting him poach on your turf – you're opening the gate and inviting him in."

Evelyn had a point. Me working alone with Quinn was one thing. Bringing him in on this meant I was exposing Jack to an unnecessary risk.

I reached for the tap.

Evelyn went on. "Why don't you just hand him a bouquet of roses and a box of fucking condoms while you're at it, Jacko?"

"It's not like that," Jack said.

"No? Nadia is yours, and it's about time you had the balls to do something about it."

Did Evelyn think Quinn was trying to shoulder Jack aside as my professional contact? Had Jack mentioned the Toronto job, leading her to think Quinn and I were partnering?

"Don't start," he said.

"Why not? You obviously won't. You were taking your time. Fine, I understand that. God forbid you should commit yourself to anything before you've checked out every angle, made absolutely sure the water is warm and safe. Then Quinn leaps in with a splash that sends you flying out of the fucking pool. But still, you're not worried. Big splash, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. By the time you blink, it'll be gone. She'll go home, forget him, and there won't be so much as a ripple to show where he'd been. So now – " A pause. "Where are you going?"

"Glass of water. Making me thirsty."

His footsteps sounded on the dining room floor. I glanced at the door. I couldn't make it and I wasn't about to be caught eavesdropping. I reached for the faucet again.

The fast clicking of Evelyn's pumps on the hardwood, then Jack's footsteps stopped.

"Not so fast, Jacko. We are having this conversation, and this time, you aren't running."

"Not running. Walking."

"As fast as you can."

He snorted. "Nothing to discuss. You get these ideas. These fancies – "

"Fancies? Oh, yes, I would love to see you shack up in some backwater hovel, go Grizzly Adams, and raise a pas-sel of brats. Nothing would make me happier. Maybe I can even visit now and then, play Grandma Evie – "

A wheeze that took me a minute to recognize as stifled laughter. Jack's laughter.

"You think that's what I want?" he asked.

"I don't know what the hell you want, Jack, and I don't think you do, either. The only thing you do know is you want her"'

My heart thudded so hard I couldn't breathe. I'd misheard. Misunderstood. Misinterpreted -

"It's not like that," Jack said.

"No?"

"No."

I relaxed my grip on the faucet and exhaled. Okay, that's what I wanted to hear, wasn't it? Wasn't it?

"So last year, when you set up that Helter Skelter killer hunt for Nadia, it was just because you like her as a friend?"

"Didn't set it up for her. Needed to shut him down. Bad for business."

"True. And, while you were acknowledging that and thinking something should probably be done about him, you couldn't help thinking how much she'd like to be the one to do it, how it might be good for her, exercise those vigilante yearnings, while showcasing you in a better light, and giving you two time together…"

"It wasn't like that."

And it hadn't been like that. In all those days together, he hadn't given any sign of treating me differently than he would a male partner. We'd shared the same motel rooms, for God's sake. He'd seen me in my nightshirt. Not so much as a lingering glance.

"Nadia tells me you two have been out of touch all year," Evelyn said.

"Been busy – "

"The hell you have been. You don't think I know your schedule, Jack? Even when you don't tell me what you're up to, I know. You've been no busier than usual."

Okay, that stung…

"Do you want me to tell you what happened, Jack?"

"Not particularly."

"You found out this thing with Quinn hadn't fizzled, as you expected. He was still in contact with her. They were trying to make something of this. And why the hell not? They're about the same age, cop backgrounds, part-time hitmen, vigilante leanings, plus all that sports crap they're into. You couldn't have found Nadia a better match if you tried. And you knew, whatever you said or did, you didn't have a hope in hell of competing. So you backed off to lick your wounds."

"Do you really think I'd do that? If I can't have her, I don't want to have anything to do with her?"

"Whoo-hoo. Full sentences. I must have touched a nerve there."

"Fuck off. It's not like that. Her and me. I'm just saying – "

"That you hadn't left her for good. I never said you had. You just wanted to withdraw long enough to get used to the idea that you'd lost your chance. Lick your wounds, suck it in, and bounce back to being her friend and mentor, and be happy with just that."

"I am happy with just that. It's all I want."

"Is it? Or is that what you're telling yourself because you think you never had a shot in the first place? You'd better wake up fast, Jack, or she's going to settle for Quinn, and let me tell you, it's settling, because it's not Quinn she – "

I wrenched the tap on full blast, heart pounding.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Evelyn storm into the kitchen. I kept my gaze on the bowl. As good an actor as I was, a blush is something you can't hide, so I waited until the bowl was full, shut off the tap, then turned -

"Oh!" I jumped as if just noticing her, water cascading over the edge. "Sorry. The dogs needed water and I couldn't find an outside tap."

She eyed me. After a moment, she harrumphed and stalked to the coffee machine, clearly unable to tell whether I'd overheard.

"There's one beside the deck," Jack said.

My jump that time was genuine. I wheeled to see Jack.

"The faucet. By the deck. I'll show you."

He took me outside and showed me the tap, around the far side of the deck. I wasn't likely to need it again, but it made a good excuse to get out of the house while Evelyn had her coffee and cooled her heels.

I filled a second bowl of water for the dogs. Then I tossed a ball for them, Jack leaning against the deck, taking a turn if the ball happened to roll past his feet but otherwise just watching.

"See? You do like dogs," he said as I took a break to scratch behind Ginger's ears.

"Guilty. But you already knew that. And I still don't need one."

"Good breed." His chin jerked toward the German shepherds. "Guard dog. Smart. Even-tempered. Sticks around property. Run with one? Wouldn't even need a lead."

I shook my head, picked up the slobbery ball, and threw it again. We stayed outside for ten minutes, saying little, the silence comfortable. He seemed to assume I hadn't heard what Evelyn said. And as for what Evelyn had been about to say when I turned on the tap…?

I tried to tell myself I had no idea what she'd been going to say. I turned it on because I was worried about being caught eavesdropping. And because I wanted to rescue Jack from her pokes and jibes.

But I knew what she'd been going to say. That I'd be settling for Quinn because I wanted someone else. I wanted Jack.

The very thought should make me laugh. At the very least, I should brush it off, the way he'd done when she said he was interested in me. Zero for two, Evelyn. Your romantic radar is a million miles off course.

Instead, the very thought made my heart pound so hard I could barely breathe. And what filled me wasn't outrage. It was fear – stark, heart-stopping, mind-emptying fear.

Fear that she was right. And, as those first numbing blows of terror subsided… the ice-cold knowledge that she was right. Absolutely right.

I said I wanted more from Jack. I wanted him to care more. I wanted to interpret his attention and his gestures as meaning more. More what? I'd tried not to think too much about that, just stick a vague label on it – more depth to our relationship, more emotion, more… something.

When Evelyn accused him of having more than a friendly interest in me, it felt like when I was twelve, and Amy told Colin Forbes I liked him. I'd been horrified and hopeful at the same time. But when Colin said he liked me, too, and I realized he'd meant "as a friend," it was the same as hearing Jack's denial, a small squeeze of disappointment, but mostly relief. My first thought had been that I was disappointed because of simple ego, and relieved because I didn't want to deal with an unwanted attraction. Now I understood the truth.

I cared about Jack more than I should. I needed him more than I should. I thought about him way more than I wanted to, in ways I definitely didn't want to. Even to consider a romantic relationship with Jack terrified me. But, apparently, I didn't need to, because the point was moot. Whatever I felt for him, he didn't reciprocate. And my overwhelming reaction to that was relief.

Breakfast was typical fare at Evelyn's – more gathered than prepared, with bagels, fruit, cheeses, and store-bought muffins. We moved on to discussing angle two of our plan. As Jack had put it, with Fenniger dead, the agency was in the market for a hitman.

"I finally got hold of Honcho yesterday and spun my story, setting up Dee to replace Fenniger," Evelyn said. "I told him I've got a new protégé. Damned good, but with limited work experience. I said I'm getting too old for hand holding and baby steps, but this one doesn't need it. Doesn't need to be coddled, either. Whatever the hit is, however messy, this protégé can take it and sleep through the night."

I cast a small glance at Jack, but he was kind enough not to snort in derision.

"I said this protégé is charming and sociable, which, believe me – " She looked at Jack. " – can be hard to come by in this business. This one's not only a people person, but can play it so sweet and sincere you'd hand over your baby while you used the restroom. Easy on the eyes, too, which is always a plus. The only issue I skirted was gender."

She peeled and sliced a banana. "Now I'd say a woman would be perfect for the job. Some guy wants to snap pictures of a pretty girl? Instant perv alert. But no one's going to consider that with a woman. The problem is that Honcho, being a man, isn't going to think that way. He'll think no woman would agree to murder a girl and steal her baby. As if our ovaries would leap through our guts and stay our trigger fingers. Sexist morons."

One banana slice, skewered on a knife end, slowly chewed and swallowed before she continued. "So he'll presume male, which is fine for now. The 'charming and good-looking' part would be a plus for any guy trying to lure in a teenage girl."

"And all of this matters… how exactly? It would be a great setup, if Honcho knew the details of the job."

"Of course he knows the details. With Honcho, it's ass-covering deluxe, Dee. If he understands the job, he can find the right guy, please the client, and minimize the chance of the pro backing out. The pro thinks he's covered by the middleman not knowing details, which is great, but also means he can't complain or negotiate. Hell, even the client probably doesn't realize how much Honcho knows. He's a sneaky bastard. He'll weasel out just enough to piece it together for himself."

I glanced at Jack.

He shrugged. "He might. Couldn't say."

"Well, I can," Evelyn said. "Absolutely and definitely. As I told him all about my protégé's credentials, he tried being cagey, but I could hear drool hitting the receiver. Fenniger has gone AWOL, fucking up a job and pissing off a client. Honcho is desperate – he just can't let on he is. He told me he might have something and he'll call back tomorrow. Now he's trying to flush out Fenniger, figuring he's just gone on a bender. When he can't find him, he'll call before he loses the contract completely."

We were finishing breakfast when Quinn phoned to say he was on his way. We'd meet him in Detroit at four and launch the third wave of attack. Three ideas, three paths, one of which we hoped would lead to the information we needed. It was more complicated than I liked, but all of us were under time constraints and couldn't afford to follow one avenue to a dead end before starting the next.

We took our coffees and moved into the living room as I mentally prepared to deal with the reason I'd been summoned – Evelyn's offer.

Evelyn and I had started our courtship dance last fall. Actually, she'd taken the first step almost three years ago, sending Jack to check out this intriguing new possibility she'd heard about from her former employer and good friend, Frank Tomassini. The invitation was never delivered. Jack met me and decided I'd make a better project for him. So he'd returned to Evelyn, told her it didn't work out, and kept seeing me on the sly. Then, last fall, she'd met me, decided I hadn't been irredeemably spoiled by Jack's tutelage, and begun her campaign of seduction.

She'd started by impressing me with her knowledge and her vast network of contacts. Then she'd wooed me with offers of vigilante work, and promises of a long, storied, and moneyed career pursuing only the cases that would scratch my itch. I'd played coquette, listening to her offers, but wary of the price tag. Mentor and protégée was no marriage of equals for Evelyn. She'd demand unswerving loyalty – even servitude – and slowly encroach on my regular life until there was nothing left but the job.

I hadn't refused her outright. I knew she'd be useful, but feared I'd end up the one used. What she was offering was exactly what I wanted, and while I felt I had the maturity and stubbornness to keep my life intact while enjoying her jobs, I was still wary.

All the while, Jack had stood to the side, the third party in this proposal, supporting and advising me, while letting Evelyn know that even if I accepted her offer, he wasn't stepping aside.

And now, she was back with something new to tempt me.

"Have you ever heard of the Contrapasso Fellowship, Dee?"

"Ah, fuck."

She shot Jack a glare.

"Contra…?" I began.

"Contrapasso. It's from Dante's Inferno"'

"Right," I said. "The punishment fits the crime. The idea that whatever sins you committed will dictate your suffering for eternity. Fortune-tellers walking backward blind. Adulterers stuck together. Sometimes the punishment is ironic, sometimes not."

Evelyn tried to hide her surprise and, maybe, dismay that I wasn't rendered clueless by her literary reference. I'd been taking college courses for a few years, for a diversion, not a degree – at this rate, I'd be fifty before I got a degree. I'd read the Inferno last year, so it was still fresh in my memory. But if Evelyn wanted to think I spent my free time reading Dante, let her.

"Yes, that's it," she said. "Ultimate justice, you might say, which supposedly is the goal of the Contrapasso Fellowship."

"Goal?" Jack made a rude noise. "The goal is entertainment. It's a story. One of those…" His lips pursed as he searched for the word. "Urban legends."

Evelyn fixed him with a look. "And that means it can't be true?"

He met her gaze. "That'd be the definition of urban legend."

"And it's not true because…?"

"Because it's not. I've been on the street how long? Never run into this 'Fellowship.' Never met anyone who did. All friend of a friend shit."

"So, having never personally encountered proof, it must clearly not exist?" She turned to me. "Have you noticed this about Jack, Dee? He deals only in tangible fact. If he can't hear it, see it, or touch it, it isn't there. It doesn't matter if it's dead obvious to the rest of the universe. If he can't prove it, it doesn't exist."

I sipped my coffee and waited for her to get back on track.

She threw up her hands. "Why am I asking you? It's like asking the skunk if he's noticed those other black-and-white vermin smell funny."

"I have no idea what this Contrapasso Fellowship is or isn't, but Jack's right. I won't chase rumors. If it exists, great. I'd love to hear about it."

"If it didn't exist, why would I bring it to you?"

"One, to get me chasing a rumor that interests you. Two, it's like the old joke about the guy asking a woman if she'd go to bed with him for a million dollars. You want me to work for you. I say I'm not interested. You offer me something incredible, and I accept it, which proves that I will work for you. You just haven't found my price."

A low rumble from the other end of the love seat. I turned to see Jack laughing.

"Oh, you liked that, didn't you?" Evelyn snapped. "You poison her against me, then get a good chuckle out of it?"

He dismissed her with an eye roll. She scowled, but there was no more anger in it than a mother cuffing her son for being cheeky. Evelyn once called Jack her favorite protégé, and he'd countered by saying he was just the only one still talking to her. I think there was some truth in both. Jack was her best and most successful student. But he was also probably the only one who saw through her, and didn't judge what lay beneath. He said, "I won't feed your ego and I won't take your bullshit, but if you want me to keep coming around, I will." And that was more valuable to Evelyn than the loyalty of any bootlicking sycophant.

I turned to Jack. "What do you know about this Contrapasso Fellowship?"

"Him?" Evelyn squawked. "He doesn't even believe it exists. You're stacking the deck, Dee."

"I want to hear the legend first. Then you can tell me what parts of it you've heard are true. If Jack's willing…"

"Sure." He moved to the edge of his seat and took a muffin from the plate.

"Oh, God, this is going to take forever," Evelyn said. "Let me refill my coffee, and you can call me when he works up the energy to speak in full sentences."

She stood, glancing at Jack, as if still willing to hang around if he showed any signs of getting to the story soon. He took a bite of his muffin and chewed slowly. She stalked off into the kitchen.

Once she was gone, he put the muffin back on the table. "Contrapasso Fellowship? Revenge for hire. Kinda like what Quinn does. Only free."

I knew Quinn didn't always collect a paycheck, but didn't say so – to Jack this would be a mark of incompetence, not integrity. I could point out that Jack himself wasn't collecting a paycheck for this job we were doing, but he'd say it wasn't the same thing.

"Pro bono vigilantism?" I said.

"Anonymous, too. Send them a newspaper clipping? They investigate. Decide whether it deserves attention. Then they pick the punishment. Something fitting the crime."

"They administer their own brand of justice."

"Nah." He propped his injured foot onto Evelyn's glass and silver table. "Judge and jury? Yeah. Executioners? No. Get others to do that. They foot the bill."

"Vigilante philanthropists, then."

"Pretty much. Why? Everyone's got a theory. Rich folks who lost kids. Retired judges watched juries let too many assholes off. Even heard one about it being cops. Steal drug money to finance it."

"So it's bullshit, isn't it?"

"Seems to be." His lips parted again, then he rubbed his mouth.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You were going to say more. You've heard something, haven't you?"

"Nah. Just…" He paused, his gaze studying mine with that quiet intensity that said he was trying to get inside my head. "Hear Evelyn out. If there's anything to it? Check it out. I'll help."