Wild Justice (Nadia Stafford 3)

I nodded.

We lapsed into silence. I was still stressing, of course, and trying hard not to show it and failing miserably. So I started making a move to get up, but Jack motioned me back down.

"About what Quinn said . . ." he began.

I looked up.

"Yeah. Change of subject."

"Distraction technique, you mean."

"Yep. So. Let's talk. What Quinn said. What I'd do. What I've done."

It took a moment for me to understand what he was talking about.

"Right," I said. "The innocent bystander issue. I don't know why he was pulling that."

"Fucking obvious why. Doesn't want an answer for himself. Wants it for you. Push me into saying something you won't like."

I shifted. "Obviously Quinn and I still have issues. It's spilling out onto the job. I'm sorry about that."

"Not you. You can keep separate. He can't. He wants you back. You working with me? Rooming with me? Blocking him. He's trying to cause trouble. Between us."

"If so, then he's failing miserably. I don't need you to answer that question because the answer wouldn't change anything. I know you wouldn't kill an innocent bystander if you could avoid it. If you couldn't?" I shrugged. "I'm not going to presume to know how you'd react, but either way, I'm okay with it."

"Don't want an answer? Or you'd rather not know?"

I met his gaze. "No, Jack. Anything you want to tell me, I want to know. But I'm never going to push you for anything. I respect your boundaries and your privacy--"

"Fuck that."

I stared at him.

"Fuck my boundaries. Fuck my privacy. Doesn't apply to you. I don't want to answer? Won't. Won't be pissed at you for asking. Quinn? Hell, yeah. You? Never." He eased back in the chair, legs still against mine. "So I'm gonna answer. You want me to stop? Rather not hear it? Say so."

I nodded.

"Have I intentionally killed a bystander? No. Would I if they witnessed something? Fifteen years ago? Yeah. Today? If the only person at risk is me? No. I fuck up? That's what I get. If it was bigger? Other people at risk? Depends. Gotta weigh all factors. Not saying I would. Not saying I never would."

"Fair enough."

"Now the rest. Stuff you've never asked. Stuff you wouldn't ask. But Quinn's not going to drop this. Fact is? I'd rather you knew. Get it out in the open. This is the part where you might want to stop me. What have I done? How bad?"

He moved back in his seat, putting a little more distance between us, only our knees brushing now. "Killing children? Fuck, no. But that's the norm. You want a hit with kids? You gotta go deep to find someone who'll do it. Killing family members to send a message? Never, but that's not ethics. That's personal. I went through it. Won't do it to someone else. Other than that . . ."

He paused and reached for his jacket pocket. Then he patted it. "Fuck."

"You left your cigarettes in the car. And you really don't want to smoke in a hotel room. It'll set off the smoke detector."

"Yeah."

"If you don't want to do this . . ."

He looked at me. "You've heard of it? I've done it. Mob hits, yeah. Drug hits, yeah. Plenty of lowlife A wanting lowlife B dead. But there's more, too. Killed people who did nothing to deserve it. Spouse for insurance money. For custody. For screwing around. For freedom to screw around. Business partner. Business rival. Lots of business shit. Lots of bullshit. Innocent people. Couple of bystanders once. Not intentionally. Car bomb. Furious with myself. Fucked up. Only problem . . ."

His hand twitched as if he was ready to reach for a cigarette again. I tried to say something, but he continued before I could.

"The problem? That's all I thought. All I felt. That I'd fucked up. I was pissed off at the mistake. Those bystanders? Couple college guys. Never thought about them. Their parents, friends, girlfriends. Just a mistake. Like smashing up my car. That's when I realized how bad it'd gotten. Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing penetrated. Like a fucking robot. So I got my shit together. Still? Not like you and Quinn. Some shit I do? You wouldn't touch. Lowlife A calling a hit on lowlife B. But different scale. Not always 'bastard deserved it.' More like: you wallow in mud, expect to get dirty."