Zero at the Bone (18 page)

“How?”

“Bullet in my shoulder, fer one. If I didn’t have a doctor here with me, I’d be dead fer sure. And I’m through in the business, which I guess is bad news fer you guys.”

“You’ve done enough. I’m glad you’re getting out.”

“Don’t go gettin’ all warm ’n’ fuzzy on me, now.” A low chuckle. “What’s the plan?”

“I’m gonna have him call his Witsec contact tomorrow. Guy name a Churchill. You know him?”

“Yeah.”

“You get word ta this Churchill ta expect Jack’s call, but he’s gotta act surprised. I don’t want Jack ta know about me pullin’ no strings.”

“Got it.”

“Jack’s gonna call, tell him that he don’t feel safe after the attempt in Vegas, and he’s gonna lay low on his own ‘til the trial. You make sure this Churchill agrees. Jack’s under my protection; he will be on that witness stand, ya got it?”

“Yeah. He isn’t going to like it.”

“He don’t have no choice.” D hesitated. “He a good man, this Churchill?”

“He is. You should talk to him. Might have some mutual interest goin’ on.”

“Might do, but later. After Jack meets him, we’re movin’ on. Not sure where yet, but once we’re there, might ring him and set his mind at ease. Ya hearin’ any whispers from the brothers? Do they know Jack’s not under Witsec’s wing anymore?”

“I don’t know; it’s hard to say. They have other witnesses to worry about besides Jack. You don’t think it was them that blackmailed you?”

“Not really, no. If they’d known that Jack was in Vegas, they’d have just taken him out.”

“Well, they’re worried about something. They brought Petros in.” Zero at the Bone | 77

D sagged. “Fuck me.”

“Don’t you let anyone get wind of where Jack is.”

“You don’t gotta tell me. I seen that man work up close ’n’ personal.” There was a hesitation on the other end of the line. “You sound strange.”

“Strange how?”

“I don’t know. You sound… like you care. Is it Francisco? What’s he like?” D let his head fall back against the tree trunk. “He ain’t what I expected. He’s tough and smart, and he ain’t no fool.”

“You like him, huh?”

“Yeah,” D murmured. “I like him well enough. Enough ta be glad I didn’t kill him.” Another pause. “How close did you come?” Stan asked, his voice very even and quiet.

D closed his eyes. “I don’t wanna think about that.”
Real fuckin’ close. Too fuckin’

close. Ta think I almos’ put a bullet between them eyes, and took that life that now I’d die
ta save, and I never woulda known what he was in the world, and who he was or could
be, and I woulda never even known what I was missin’, nor known how right it could feel
just ta lay my fingers alongside his.

“That close, huh?”

“They had the shit on me. All of it.”

“Any thoughts on who put you up to this hit, if it wasn’t the brothers?” He sighed. “That is what’s really burnin’ my toast. I got no fuckin’ clue. But that’ll hafta wait ta puzzle out, ’cause I got other things ta think on now. I just gotta get Jack through this call to Churchill and then get us hell and gone.”

“I’m glad you called in.”

“I didn’t want this Churchill to go all SWAT on us and yank Jack away in the back a some government-issue Taurus where I cain’t protect him.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“You do care, don’t you?”

D sighed. “More’n I should.” He hung up and sagged back against the tree.
You
wanna know if I care? Jus’ ask me how hard it was ta let Jack be mad at me, and sit there
doin’ nothin’ while he yelled at me and turned his back, knowin’ it was best, wantin’ ta
close that vault door, but also wantin’ ta throw it wide open and let everything out,

’cause he’s the first one ever made me think I could look inside there without goin’ crazy,
and the first one I wanted ta know all of it. First person made me ever think I might
wanta reclaim some a what I locked away… or think that I might even need, or deserve,
ta have it back.

78 | Jane Seville

JACK lay in bed, arms crossed over his chest, staring at the ceiling. He heard the door open and close as D went outside.

Fine. Don’t want to talk about your really awful-sounding nightmares, that’s no
skin off my nose. I don’t give a shit how you sleep.

Which was a lie, of course. He cared, and he wanted to know. He wanted to know what was in D’s mind, what drove him, what scared him. He wanted to know it all.

And why’s that, Jack? Why are you so interested? Do you want to know what’s
wrong so you can fix it? Be the hero, heal the wounded man?

Maybe. Was that so terrible? Was it so offensive that he might want to help?

You just want him to let you in to his closed-off self, because he doesn’t let anybody
in. If you get in, that means you must be special. You’re important. Important to a man
who makes a point not to form attachments. And if there’s an attachment despite his
nature, it must mean you’re even more awesome than you thought you were.

Jack turned on his side, curling his hands under his cheek. Was that all this was?

Some play for validation on his part?

I just want to know if I mean something to him… the way he means something to
me.

Jack rolled onto his stomach and clutched a pillow over his head. Sure, no problem.

Testify against some drug lords. All in a day’s work. Get a new name and get yourself relocated thousands of miles away. No sweat. Assassins coming after you? Check.

Conscience-ridden hit men spiriting you away? Check. Hiding out in a remote cabin? Oh, got that one covered. Develop unseemly crush on ruthless hired killer?

Jack sighed.
I am one incurable illness away from a Lifetime Movie of the Week.

D STOOD outside Jack’s bedroom door for a good five minutes, trying to figure out what to do.
Knock? Yell? Barge right in? You fuckin’ asshole, you can plan an infiltration of a
goddamned Federal Reserve branch but ya cain’t figure out how ta wake up yer… yer….

What was Jack, anyway? His mark? His companion? His protectee? His friend? D’s vocabulary wasn’t up to that task.

He knocked. “Jack?” No answer. “Jack!” He heard a vague mumbling from inside.

“C’mon, get up! It’s almos’ nine, and ya gotta call that guy.” Jack made an incoherent, irritated-sounding noise. “Does it have to be right this very minute?” he said through the door.

“Uh… guess not. Jus’ thought… ya know… ya might wanna get up.” ’
Cause ya
been in there since eight o’clock last night and yer freakin’ my shit out.

Zero at the Bone | 79

He heard a thump, then footsteps, then Jack yanked the bedroom door open. “You just want me to get up because I’m freaking you out,” he said.

D blinked.
Shit, did I say that out loud?
“What makes ya think that?”

“You’re stammering and you sound freaked out.”

“Oh.” D shuffled. “Well, now yer up, let’s have some breakfast.”

“So you just got me up to cook for you, is that it?”

“No! I’ll cook! What the fuck is yer problem, anyway?” He stomped off to the fridge and pulled out the milk.

Jack went to the table and sat down. “I don’t know.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. Guess I just went to sleep mad and woke up still mad.”

D brought over the bowls and cereal.
Hope this’ll do fer cookin’
. “Mad about me

’n’ my nightmares, ya mean.”

“Well… yeah.” There seemed to be something else lurking behind Jack’s shuttered gaze, something he wasn’t letting past himself. D didn’t pry.

“I jus’ cain’t share everythin’ with ya,” D said. “Ya jus’ keep pryin’ and nosin’ and I know ya mean well, but….” He sighed. “I kep’ things locked up my whole life and it ain’t so easy. Them hinges are rusted damned near shut.”

“I know,” Jack said, his voice sounding gentler. “I shouldn’t push. You don’t owe me any kind of confessions or revelations. I’m just… concerned.” D poured the milk. “I ain’t exactly used ta havin’ nobody be concerned fer me.”

“Well, get used to it.” D met his eyes and saw the smile there. He felt himself smile back. They ate cereal in silence for a few moments.

Jack got up to refill his coffee and returned to the table, looking a little disgruntled.

“I don’t want to call Churchill.”

“Gotta.”

Jack shook his head. “He is not going to believe that I somehow got away from a trained killer.”

“Won’t have much choice.”

“He’ll just think I’m making the whole thing up.”

“So what? He cain’t prove ya are.”

Jack was still shaking his head, like he was bound and determined to argue with every damned thing D said. “What if he tries to come and get me?”

“How’s he gonna do that? With his magic X-ray vision? He cain’t track this phone.

You could be anywhere in the lower forty-eight and I doubt he’s got some magic reindeer ta pull his sleigh. Will ya relax?”

“Well, I’m sorry if the idea of talking to a man of some authority, who, I might add, has done nothing but try to protect me, and telling him a bunch of fairy stories and hoping he believes me is a little strange to me.”

“You’ll be fine.” D handed him the phone. “No time like the present.” Jack took it, his eyes widening a little. “Now? Seriously?”

“Get it over with.”

He stared at the handset like it was a sleeping snake that might wake up and bite him at any time. He stood up. “I’ll go outside.”

“What, ya don’t want me ta hear?” The idea of not listening in was vaguely upsetting, although D knew he had no right to eavesdrop.

“Just… want some privacy,” Jack muttered, and then headed outside to the patio. D

sat and watched him go, then returned to his cereal with a sigh.

80 | Jane Seville

JACK dialed the number from memory, his mind racing with all the things he’d have to say and not say, mention and not mention, reveal and hide. “Witsec, Churchill.”

“Uh… yeah, it’s Jack Francisco.”

“Jack?
Jack?
Are you kidding me?” Churchill sounded like he was on his feet and running somewhere already.

“No, it’s me.”

“Where the hell are you? I have been looking for you for a week!”

“I know… I’m sorry. I’m okay.”

“What the hell happened? Why’d you leave?”

“Why’d you have a tracking device on my car?” Jack snapped.
Jesus, where’d that
come from?
he thought.

There was silence for a moment. “It’s just a precaution, Jack. I figured you must have found it when we lost the signal. Why did you leave Vegas? You were safe there!”

“Safe, right. So safe that some hit man showed up at my house to kill me.” Silence again. “That isn’t funny.”

“No, I didn’t think so, either.”

“Are you serious? Someone came for you?”

“Came home and found him sitting there in my living room with a gun.”

“Fuck. How’d he find you?”

“That’s what I’d like to know, seeing as you and your agency were the only ones who knew where I was.”

“No one here gave you up, Jack. I hope you know that.”

“I’d like to believe it.”

“You could have been spotted on the street, just a random happenstance.” Whatever. “It doesn’t matter how he found me, just that he did.”

“How’d you get away?”

“Threw a vase at his head and ran.”

“Jack… we didn’t find any broken vase in your house. There was no sign of any struggle there.”

Shit.
Jack thought fast. “The vase didn’t break. One of those heavy pottery pieces.

He probably took it with him when he left so his blood wouldn’t be found in the house.”
Does that make sense? Sounds good to me. Too late now.

Churchill sighed. “Well, that makes some kind of sense. And… you just ran?

How’d you find the tracker?”

“I thought someone was following me. I didn’t know who it was, so I lost them and pulled over and searched the car.”

“Where are you now?”

Jack sighed. “I’m not comfortable sharing that information.”

“Let me bring you back in. We’ll relocate you.”

“I tried it your way once and it didn’t work out. I’ll take care of myself. I don’t feel safe with anyone knowing my whereabouts.”

“I can’t allow you to stay out there on your own, Jack.”

“What are you going to do about it?” Silence. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Look…

I am absolutely going to testify. Okay?”

“I don’t mind telling you, the prosecutor’s on the phone to me six times a day. He’s about ready to have an aneurysm.”

Zero at the Bone | 81

“Tell him I will be there. I will check in with you twice a week, you can keep me updated on when I’m supposed to appear, and I will get myself there. Until then… I’m just going to lay low and hide out.”

“I don’t like this, Jack.”

“You think I like it? This is not what I signed up for, but I’m going to have to live with it until the trial.”

“I think you’ve got someone helping you.”

“I’m on my own, and it’s going to stay that way.”

“You’re talking like a professional. You’re a surgeon, not some kind of operative.