Exit Strategy (Nadia Stafford 1)

So I began. "The offer came through Frank's nephew, Paul..."

* * *

SIXTEEN

As for how Paul wound up at my lodge, that I do chalk up to fate. He'd come up with two of his cousins--also Tomassini wiseguys--for deer hunting season. They'd checked into a lodge 50 kilometers from the Red Oak. But the place hadn't been up to Paul's standards, and someone had recommended mine. He came, he liked, he stayed...even if he had to do his actual hunting off the property.

I figured out that they were Mafiosi pretty fast, but Paul and his cousins were quiet, well-mannered guests--better than those with the corporate team-building getaway I was hosting at the time--so I didn't care. Deer season ended, and Paul booked a week for duck season. Then he reserved the deer season for next year. Paul's cousins kept their distance from their ex-cop host, but Paul and I hit it off well--not friends, but friendly.

By his fourth visit, I could see foreclosure on the horizon and was scrambling to push it off a little further, but had finally come to realize I was only postponing the inevitable. My second life was about to crash--not as spectacularly as the first--but all the more devastatingly. I'd kept my problems to myself...until Paul tried booking his next visit, and I had to admit the lodge might not still be around.

The next day, when I was out back chopping wood, he'd appeared, looking dapper and well groomed even in a lumber jacket and jeans.

"Got another axe?" he asked.

I wiped sweat from my cheek and shook my head. "Just the one. Wouldn't be good for liability."

"Let me take a turn." He flashed a grin. "Never know when axe-wielding might come in handy."

I handed him the axe and showed him how to use it.

"I'll grab the pieces as they fall," I said. "Just watch my fingers."

For a few minutes, he just cut wood, alternating between cursing and laughing. Guys like Paul swing moods like they swing axes, swiftly and decisively, the smiles no less sincere than the scowls.

"You want me to take over?" I asked.

A mock glower. "When I'm just getting the hang of it?" He swung and embedded the axe in the stump I used as a chopping block.

"Hate to see you lose the lodge, Nadia," he said. "You work your ass off, and you've got a great setup here. It's the damn economy. You just need a little cash, to get you past this."

I nodded and grabbed the split pieces.

He wiped his brow, then pulled the axe out of the stump. "We might be able to help each other out. I have a problem that needs a solution, and I'm thinking maybe you could help with that."

I felt his gaze on my back as I added the pieces to the woodpile. He waited until I turned, giving him my full attention.

"A couple of years back, we had this young man start work for us. My sister's brother-in-law's stepson. A tenuous connection but..." A shrug. "Still family."

He put another log on the stump.

"The kid's not with us six months and there's trouble. An associate tells us he's been roughing up whores, paying them with bruises. My uncle's not happy but he thinks 'Who knows how the kid was raised? He just needs to be set straight.' So we set him straight. And it seemed to stop."

Paul swung the axe, shaving a sliver off the next log.

"Seemed to stop...until the kid's arrested for beating on a whore, and he's not just using his fists anymore. Almost killed the girl. So my uncle's furious, but still, the kid's family, just needs help to make better choices."

He swung again, taking off yet another slice.

"Kindling," I said when he swore.

I picked up the pieces.

"You know what's coming with this story, don't you?" he said.

"I've got a pretty good idea."

"We're kicking ourselves for not seeing it. To a cop or shrink it's probably obvious as hell. But us? We're optimists. Always trying to see the good in people, their ability to change."