Perfect Victim (Nadia Stafford 3.6)

He slid into the chair across from mine. "Evelyn named him."

"Ah. He's one of hers, I take it. Lover and student?"

"Mostly the former. Some training but . . ." He shrugged. "She never understood him."

"Hence the moniker."

"Yeah. At first? What makes him different was what got her attention. But then she wanted to fix him. He said 'fuck that.' They'd still hook up. But nothing more."

A common story in relationships, one person trying to change the other. That was one reason Jack had kept me away from Evelyn. He'd been able to accept her training while refusing her plan to turn him into a slick assassin. He'd also never ended up in her bed.

As the coffee brewed, I nibbled my pie and listened to Jack explain how Cypher found him. Through Felix, apparently, who'd been quick to buy Cypher's dumb hick routine and divulged just enough information to send Cypher in our direction.

"And there's bad blood between you two?" I said as I got up to pour the coffee.

"Screwed me over. Stole a job. So I did the same." He paused. "Well . . . not exactly the same."

"You hit back harder."

He shrugged. "Don't care for one-upmanship. But sometimes you gotta. He undercut my price. So I shot his mark."

"That's one-upmanship?"

"Shot him while Cypher was strangling him. Pissed him off." Another pause. "Really pissed him off. If he claimed the hit, he had to say he used a gun. Which he wouldn't do."

"He joked about hunting with his bare hands. That wasn't actually a joke, was it?"

"Nah. Like I said, he's a little . . . different."

"Uh-huh. So you literally shot his mark out from under him in retaliation for him stealing a job. Fair enough. But he struck back, didn't he?"

"Tried to. Failed. Disappeared before he could try again."

I sipped my coffee. "Playing devil's advocate here. Is it possible he really was playing with you? I'd never disrespect the job by turning it into a game, but he seems the type."

"Maybe. Still don't trust him."

"More than you don't trust everyone else?"

He toyed with a piece of piecrust. "We'll hear him out."

Chapter Five

Nadia

Cypher had to wait until after lunch to talk to us. Guests paid for access to the host, which meant there was a limit to how much time I could be unavailable. Until Jack and I built the chalet, I'd lived in the lodge, partly to avoid any temptation to retreat for a little me-time. Jack had helped me see there was an unhealthy side to that, the side that felt I didn't deserve me-time. The truth was that guests didn't really expect me on call 24/7, and any debt I owed the world could not be paid off by providing an impromptu canoe trip.

We told Cypher that we'd hear him out after lunch, which kept him from breathing down our necks. He took his meal to go and said he'd be over by some ramshackle cabins on the far edge of the property.

Jack and I ate with our guests. I regaled them with life-in-the-lodge anecdotes while Jack . . . well, Jack ate. Most of what he did around the lodge was behind the scenes, slowly taking over for my aging caretaker, Owen. Jack interacted with guests for the activities I hated but otherwise kept to himself. No one bothered him. Some people just have that air about them--the one that says they won't bite your head off if you speak to them, but they don't encourage it either.

After lunch, I reminded guests about the twilight canoe excursion. Then Jack and I left to speak to Cypher.

It was a good twenty-minute hike to that part of the property. Up until a few months ago, it belonged to a neighbor. When they'd been preparing to move, Jack had approached them with an offer: he'd pay for over a hundred acres of their lot, leaving them to sell the house with five acres, which was all most people wanted--just enough to feel like they're living in the wilderness.

The ramshackle cabins had once been rental units. That was before my time, and I'd always grumbled about them being both an eyesore and a safety hazard. Guests couldn't resist wandering over to explore or photograph the cabins, which was dangerous. So Jack bought the land. We'd tear the shacks down soon and erect small cottages, expanding the business.

When we arrived, Cypher was poking around a ruined cabin.