“Doesn’t matter.” He lowered himself onto the bed, springs squeaking. “Ten years ago? Would a put a bullet in him. Never thought twice. Punks like that? Can’t let them think they bested you.”

Another neck rub. “But like I said tonight? Ten years ago? Don’t much like who I was then. Things I did. These days? Try to find other ways. Sometimes? Go too far.”

“Even if you had killed that guy the other day, that’s not to say the Nikolaevs wouldn’t have sent this one…if that’s who did send him.”

Jack opened his mouth, as if to argue, then said, “Gotta get some sleep.”

“Can you? I mean, I’m not sure I can so if there’s anything I can do…”

He paused and I could tell he was ready to lie and say “Nah, I’m good,” but then he glanced my way, hesitated a few more seconds and said, “Talk to me.”

I managed a wry smile. “Now that I can do, as you well know—though, after I get going, you probably wish I came with a shut-up button.”

He met my gaze. “Never.”

I felt my cheeks heat. Didn’t know why, but felt the blush anyway as I stumbled on. “If it’s war stories you’re looking for, I’m afraid I can’t match yours. Mine are all pretty much ‘find Mafia thug, kill Mafia thug.’ Good for putting you to sleep, though…”

“None of that shit. Just tell me…” He shrugged. “Talk about the lodge. Your plans. Where you want to be in five years.”

“Still open for business.”

A quarter-smile. “Yeah. I know. You will be. Must have plans, though.”

“Tons of them.”

“Tell me.”

And so I did. Babbled on about the lodge, my plans for it, and he listened, even prolonging the conversation with questions and suggestions. Absolutely meaningless drivel that we managed to invest with all the gravity and consideration we gave to our investigation plans.

After ten minutes, we were stretched atop our respective beds, heads on the pillows. Jack had his shirt off, jeans still on, half ready for bed but not prepared to make the full commitment. Another twenty, and his questions came slower, as he relaxed, lack of sleep from the night before catching up with him. Ten more and he was gone, snoring softly, as if exhausted.

I slipped from bed, tiptoeing, knowing how easily he woke. I took a blanket from the closet and laid it over him, as he’d done with his jacket the night before. Then I changed into my nightshirt, turned off the lights and crawled into bed.

“Nadia…”

Running. Lungs on fire. Heart pounding. It hurt. Hurt so bad. Pain ripping through me. Couldn’t think about that. Couldn’t think about me. All that mattered was Amy. Gotta get home. Gotta tell my dad…

Hands grabbed me, strong hands. I fought, kicking, biting.

“Nadia…”