Apparently Jack wasn’t as confident as he’d seemed about how his message to the Nikolaevs would be received. Issue a simple, respectful message of professional courtesy, assuring them that he wasn’t interested in their business, so they shouldn’t be interested in his, and they should back off. But he’d heard Boris could be a hothead, quick to see insult where none was intended.

As for how the Nikolaevs could have dispatched someone here so fast—well, telephones work pretty quickly. If Gallagher knew the Nikolaevs were looking for Jack, it would take one phone call from his end, and one phone call bounced back to a Nikolaev associate in Vegas, and they could have someone at the casino before I’d even made it outside.

“Is it just me, or is this getting really annoying?” I said.

“Fucking annoying.”

“I think we should just call up all the nice mobsters in the country and tell them, ‘Look, we’re trying to catch a rampaging killer here. Do you think you could stop putting contracts on our heads? Just for a day or two? Please?’”

“It’ll stop. Tonight.”

I glanced over at him, but he was looking straight ahead, face hard. I nodded and leaned back in my seat.

After a moment he said. “Earlier. About Gallagher. Kind of jobs he wants. You should know.”

“I don’t plan to ever call on him for employment.”

“Still, you should know. Gallagher wants someone dead? You don’t ask why. Sometimes it’s card sharks. Sometimes it’s unpaid debt. Sometimes…” He shrugged. “Sometimes, you don’t wanna know. For a while, that was okay. Didn’t give a shit. Figured someone’s gonna take the contract. Might as well be me.”

He turned left, heading toward the highway. “Eventually? Decided it didn’t need to be me. Didn’t need the money. Didn’t need the grief. Things change. Ten, fifteen years ago? Didn’t matter. Now…?” He shrugged. “My jobs these days? Some you wouldn’t touch. I’m not like you and Quinn. Don’t come from the same place. Don’t see things the same way.”

So how did he see things? I longed to ask, but when I opened my mouth, I couldn’t think of any way to word it that wouldn’t sound like prying.

Jack slanted an expectant look my way. “You gonna ask? Or you don’t want to know?”

“Uh, sure, I’d love to know. I just didn’t want to—Well, it didn’t seem right to just come right out and ask, but I’m certainly interested if you want to tell me.”

A slight downturn of his lips. A frown? Didn’t he just offer—?

“Better not,” he said after a moment. “Not my place. Ask him. He wants you to know. Tried to tell you. Shouldn’t have interrupted.”

Huh? What was he talking—?