A hopeless task. But a task nonetheless. Busywork. Keeping my mind occupied, that surging frustration at bay. Exactly what I needed. To Jack, it was just being efficient. Making the best use of our time.

At intermission, I wanted to find out what the Feds were doing, if they even knew this was a hit yet, but Jack was having none of it, and I had to admit he was right. We couldn’t be caught hanging out too close to the FBI agent plants, hoping to overhear their conversations.

“Come on,” Jack said, tapping the cigarettes in his pocket and jerking his chin toward the mass of patrons streaming outside. “Gotta talk to Felix.”

We walked along the sidewalk, getting as much distance from the other smokers as possible without looking suspicious.

“How will they find—?” I began.

“Already did. Don’t look. Just keep walking. I’ll stop. Next to an alley exit. Turn toward the street.”

“With my back to them in the alley. Got it.”

When I was turning, I caught a blur of a face. Quinn, judging by the height. His dark clothing blended with the shadows.

Jack positioned us so we were standing side by side, partly turned toward one another, our backs to the alley as we watched the traffic.

Jack smoked while I told Quinn and Felix what had happened. To anyone driving by or watching from the opera house, I’d seem to be speaking to Jack. When I finished, Quinn let out an oath.

“So he did manage it,” Felix murmured. “We thought as much when we noticed the agents stream into the street after the show began.”

“So they’re out here?” I said, scanning the road. “They think he left.”

Jack passed me the cigarette. As I took it, I caught a glimpse of Quinn. He’d moved to the edge of the alley, still in shadow, but behind Jack now. He frowned as he watched me raise the cigarette to my lips.

“Yes, it’s a nasty habit,” I murmured. “And one I’m supposed to have quit but, sadly, I’m not above temptation.”

I smiled as I spoke, but his expression didn’t change. He watched me take a drag, then pass it back to Jack.

“Can’t spring for a fresh smoke for Dee, Jack?” he said.

Jack grunted, and my cheeks heated as I realized what Quinn had been gawking at. Not the cigarette, but the sharing. I’d never really thought much about it, and I knew Jack was only being considerate. He knew that as an ex-smoker, I’d refuse a full one, but could reason that a few puffs didn’t count, like a dieter taking bites from someone else’s dessert. To an outsider, though, the shared cigarette might seem rather…intimate.

“So where are they?” I asked, looking around.