“So, you talked to Quinn tonight,” he said. “He tell you? About himself ?”

“That he’s a vigilante hitman? I’d already figured that.”

He studied my expression. Then he grunted, fingers tapping against the cigarette pack. A hungry look down at it, then he stood, crossed the room and tossed it on the counter.

“What did you think would happen, Jack? That I’d hear what Quinn does and say ‘hey, sign me up’?”

“Nah. Just…” He shrugged. Didn’t finish the sentence.

“I didn’t need to hear it from Quinn to know it was an option, that there’s a market for that kind of thing.”

“Yeah, I know.”

He sat down. I sipped my hot Yoo-hoo, and tried not to make a face.

“Tastes like shit?” he said.

I managed a small smile. “Yes, but it gets the job done.” I took another sip. “About tomorrow. I’d really like—I know you’re not the person to talk to about it, because you have problems with the whole plan, but, well, Evelyn, Quinn…I can talk to them but I just don’t feel…”

I looked at Jack. “Whatever happened today, however much we disagree about that, I trust you and I’d really like your input. I plan to pull this off, Jack. Without getting myself killed.”

“I know.” He leaned back into the cushions. “Talk to me.”

So I did.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

FORTY-EIGHT

I woke up in the bedroom I was sharing with Evelyn. Last thing I remembered, Jack and I had finished discussing the plan and moved on to talking about…I had no idea what we’d moved on to, because I think that the moment I had the plan straight in my head, I fell asleep. Jack must have carried me in to the bedroom.

I rolled over and checked the other bed. It was empty. The clock read 8:12. I shot up with a curse. Of all the days to sleep in…

I could hear Evelyn in the main room, saying something about Dubois and the contact call. Was there a problem? I scrambled up and threw open the door.

“Have we heard back—?”

I stopped. Evelyn sat on the sofa, in conversation with a man. Only that man wasn’t Jack. It was Quinn. And I was standing in the doorway, half-naked, no wig, no contacts, no makeup. Quinn’s gaze didn’t go to my face first, though. It went to my chest. Or, more accurately, to my torso, emblazoned with the Ontario Police College logo. His eyes lifted to mine. He blinked, realizing I wasn’t wearing a disguise, then looked away. I backpedaled and slammed the door as Evelyn let out an oath.

Evelyn opened the door without knocking.

“Shit, that was a stupid move,” she muttered.

I glared over my shirt collar as I pulled it on. “Yes, I’ve been making a lot of stupid moves lately, but thanks for clarifying that.”