out of their way. But he already got a good look at me, and he obviously figured out I’m your mystery partner. So if I stay in the car, that’s going to arouse suspicion. They’ll wonder if it’s more than rookie nerves.”
“Yeah.”
I looked over at him. “Can I get some advice? Please?”
He drove for at least five minutes without answering, then did so slowly, as if with great reluctance. “Safer to meet them. Get it over with. You’re in disguise. Quinn’s a blowhard but…” A long pause, as if he’d rather not finish. “He’s good. Trustworthy. You’ll be fine.”
Quinn and his partner were waiting when we pulled into the rest stop. Jack drove past them, circled to the rear of the building and parked on the far side. He looked around, then got out and headed for the picnic area that, given the cool season and the late hour, was understandably empty.
He gestured at the table in front of us. “Here good?”
“Seems okay. We’re far enough from the buildings that no one should overhear if we keep our voices down. Watch the body language, though.”
When I looked up, Quinn was bearing down on us, jaw set, fists balled at his sides.
“So much for body language,” I murmured.
Jack stood, shoulders squaring. Quinn’s partner headed our way, as if to intercept, but he was too far to reach us in time.
“What’s this?” Quinn said, gesturing at me. “When you said you had a partner, we all figured you meant Evelyn or someone we knew. That”—his finger jabbed my way—“is neither.”
“I’m vouching for her,” Jack said.
“That’s very nice. But we’re taking a big risk, working with a stranger—”
“I said, I’m vouching for her.”
They stared at each other. Last time I’d seen that look it’d been on a pair of feral dogs, in a battle for control of the lodge’s garbage bins—right before I turned the hose on them. Some guys…you can teach them to walk upright, put them in nice clothes, but it still comes down to a good ol’-fashioned pissing contest. And me without my hose.
“Hey,” I said, inching between the two. I fixed my smile on Quinn and upped the wattage. “What’s a club without initiation rites? How about a test? Make sure I pass muster.”
“You don’t have to—” Jack began.
I put up a hand to stop him, never breaking eye contact with Quinn.
“Test me,” I said. “Can’t say I was ever any good at pop quizzes in school, but what the hell. Give it a try.”
Quinn’s gaze locked on mine. “You any good at distance shooting?”
“Got a rifle on you?”
The barest hint of a smile lit his eyes, but didn’t reach his lips. “Not right now. So, what’s the best silencer for Remington 700?”
“None.”
His brows rose a quarter-inch.
“First, it’s a suppressor. You can’t silence a gun. Ignoring that, a real distance shooter wouldn’t use one unless absolutely necessary. Most times, you’re taking the shot from far enough away that a suppressor isn’t necessary, and using one means you run the risk of throwing off your MOA.”
“Minutes of angle,” the red-haired man said with a smile. “She’s right. I’ve told you that before, but you never listen.”
I continued. “If you have to use a suppressed rifle, you’d be better off with a McMillan M89 or Steyr SSG. Their suppressors work okay, but personally I prefer—”
“All right, all right.” He extended his hand. “Quinn.”
“Dee.”
The red-haired man took my hand with a smile. “Felix.”
Quinn turned back to Jack. “So what the hell was that fuckup at the hospital?”
“Following a lead. Same as you.”
“Well, that shit wouldn’t have happened if you’d listened to me and we actually tried a little teamwork on this job.”
Jack glanced my way, as if expecting a “told you so.” I looked away before I gave him one. As I scanned the rest stop, I slid between Jack and Quinn again.
“We have an audience,” I said.
Quinn followed my gaze. Next to the building a middle-aged couple stood beside their car, watching us.
“May I make a suggestion?” I asked.
Quinn nodded.
“How about we sit down, I’ll grab some cans of pop and we’ll have a picnic.”
“Good idea,” Felix said. “You stay here, Dee, and I’ll get the sodas.” A wry smile my way. “You make a better referee.”
Quinn waited until Jack was halfway seated, then picked up the argument where he’d left off. “I’m getting sick of this, Jack. I might not have the career you and Felix have, but on something like this, I’m the expert. You don’t handle a criminal