Quinn started to laugh, then stopped. "Did you say 'range'? You have a shooting range?"

"An impulse buy when I first got the place and had a bit of money left over, from my buyout and such. One of those things you later regret splurging on, but you're kind of glad you did. It's a nice feature for the lodge, too."

"I'll bet. I saw those pictures inside – boating, caving, rock climbing, rafting…"

"The rapids are off the property. Strictly amateur fare. But we have a decent caving system and the lake's nice."

"Man, that's sweet." He shook his head. "Wish I could come up – I mean, theoretically. I know I can't."

"We could work something out, some story, like I'm doing with Jack."

"So, Jack, it's his foot, I'm guessing. He's here to recuperate. How'd he -? No, let me guess. He won't tell you what happened."

"He could, but then he'd have to kill me."

We laughed as I stood.

"Anyway, if you ever want to come up, midweek offseason, there's often no one here. It's a great business, but not exactly profitable."

He looked out at the darkening forest. "So that's why you… do the other work."

"I can't lose the lodge. Not after – Anyway, you're welcome anytime."

We said good-bye and I started to leave. I'd made it almost to the road, when his footsteps thundered behind me.

"Nadia?"

When I turned, he was right there, so close I smacked into him and his arms went around me, as if to steady me, then I saw his face coming down to mine, so sudden I didn't realize what he was doing until his lips were on mine.

For a second, I didn't respond. But the feel of his mouth, of his arms around me, the smell of him, woke the memories from last fall. Good memories.

I needed this. After one failed relationship since killing Wayne Franco, I'd stopped dating, maybe even passed over into avoidance. No, there was no maybe about it. I'd burrowed into the safe cave of avoidance and made it my home. Here was my chance to climb back out. With a guy I liked, one who knew my biggest secret and apparently didn't give a shit. A guy who could never demand commitment or even a standing Saturday night date. The perfect solution, and damned if I was going to be a coward and turn it down.

So I kissed him back. I could feel my body respond, a yearning building into hunger.

But last fall it had been different. Safe. I'd known it couldn't go anywhere. Just fooling around with a sexy guy.

Now the "sexy guy" was Quinn. A friend. Someone who wanted more than a one-night stand.

I might need this, but could I take this chance? Risk losing a friendship for a relationship that might not work out? Maybe I was a coward, but I needed his friendship more than I needed any romantic relationship.

I'd stopped kissing him. I didn't even realize it until he pulled back, looking down at me, confusion and disappointment clouding his eyes.

"I blew it, didn't I?" he said.

I looked up. "No, it's not you – "

"It's not you, it's me. I really like you, but this isn't a good idea. I still want to be friends." A wry, almost bitter smile. "Am I getting close?"

What the hell was I going to say? This was the conversation I'd imagined, only I'd thought it would come from him. Now I could see his feelings hadn't changed. He'd kept his distance in Toronto because he wanted to tell me what he knew first. The honorable thing to do.

"Is it because I know who you are?" he said. "If that bothers you – Hell, I'm sure it bothers you. But it was an accident and I'd never use it against you, Nadia – Dee – " His hand went to his mouth, rubbing his lips. "Shit. You'd think getting past the secret identities would help, but it really doesn't, does it? Just makes things even more complicated."

And there I saw my way out, my excuse to take more time, to not have to make a decision, and, coward that I was, I leapt on it. "It's – it's a shock. I just – Things cooled off between us, and I know we said we were going to back off, but after Toronto, when you didn't seem interested, I thought that was it. Now with this… I just need some time."

A slow smile that lit up his eyes and made my insides twist with guilt.

"I understand," he said, then leaned over and brushed his lips across my forehead. "I won't rush you, Nadia. I want this to work. I really do."

I found Jack with the guests at the lake, helping Owen prepare for the canoe ride. I apologized for being late, but he brushed it off and kept helping. He even seemed ready to join the excursion, until he found out he'd have to kneel, which wouldn't work with his cast. So he stayed on the dock and had a beer with Owen.

After the trip, one couple wanted to do some dock-sitting of their own, and the other opted for the hot tub. If a couple wants the hot tub, I don't offer to join them. So I took advantage of the break to head to my room and do some research on black-market adoptions. Jack came along, still nursing his beer.

"Saw you didn't take the truck," he said as he closed my bedroom door behind us.

"I like to walk."

"Yeah. On deserted roads. No cell phone. No gun."

"Um, part-time professional killer?" I whispered as I took out my laptop. "I think I can look after myself."

"How? You armed? You need a – "

"Don't say it."

" – dog. Need one. You'd like one, too."

"What I'd like isn't a priority as long as I'm running an inn. If you have any ideas what I could search on, let me know."

He grunted and sat on the edge of my bed. I spent the next hour researching the baby market.

Babies aren't exactly a commodity you can sell on eBay A quick search brought up an old Time magazine article. In it, the writer wondered whether a recent spate of child kidnappings represented an actual crime wave or media hysteria. He imagined editors looking at stories of war and drought and political corruption and saying, "What, no kidnapped kids this morning? Well, find some." If half of those stories were true, you'd be afraid to set foot outside with a stroller.

So how did you sell a baby? Private adoption is illegal in Canada, but I found plenty of sites for it south of the border. Most were likely legitimate, charging only administrative costs. Still, I suspected some were a cover-up for baby-selling, but how to tell? And what I was looking for wouldn't advertise openly. It would be a very small operation – one hitman specializing in finding and kill ing teen mothers, then selling their babies.

Jack helped me dig deeper into the underground sites. That was really Evelyn's forte, but he'd picked up enough to know how to bypass her, which is always a bonus. Tell Evelyn what we were after, and she'd want in – not because she gave a shit about dead teenage mothers, but because it was something shiny and new. Then she'd add it to my chit as a favor owed. If Quinn found more cases like Sammi's, we'd need Evelyn's encyclopedic knowledge of hitmen, so we were keeping our requests to a minimum.

We found nothing. We'd have to wait for Quinn.

What was I going to do about Quinn? I lay in bed, thinking of that.

I should have taken the excuse he offered, not to postpone a decision, but to let him down easy. I'm sorry, Quinn – I just can't take the chance now that you know who I am. But I couldn't close that door. Part of me still wanted to make this work. I'd responded when he kissed me. I'd wanted more. So what if my heart didn't pitter-patter? If I didn't get all weak in the knees? That was romantic nonsense and I'd always been practical about these things.

I'd never fallen crazy in love. Never even fallen crazy in lust. From the time I'd started dating, I'd picked guys that I liked and enjoyed spending time with. So why this sudden need to feel more? That smacked of an excuse, setting hurdles for Quinn that he could never leap.