Wild Justice Read Free Page B

gun
. No lessons. No instructions.” He shook his head.
    “I still feel—”
    “Like you could have saved her. You couldn’t.”
    I pulled up my legs and sat cross-legged. After a few minutes of silence, he walked to the door.
    I took a deep breath. “Okay, get my shit together or I can mope alone, right?”
    He glanced at me, frowning slightly. “No. Not that. Just getting something. Be back.”

CHAPTER 4
    Jack was gone about twenty minutes. When he returned, he was carrying two steaming cardboard cups.
    “Coffee,” I said. “You’re a mind reader.”
    “Not coffee. Not for you.”
    He handed me a cup. The smell of chocolate wafted out. I smiled.
    “You need sleep,” he said. “Figured you wouldn’t take pills.”
    My dad used to make me hot chocolate when I couldn’t fall asleep. I’d mentioned it once to Jack and he’d never forgotten. I wonder sometimes if that’s how he sees me. His student, his protégée, his surrogate daughter.
    How
do
I see Jack? Definitely not as a father figure, no matter how many times he brings me hot chocolate. I see him as a mentor. As a friend. And, as I realized this spring, as someone I’d like to be more than a friend. But there’s never been a hint of reciprocation, and it’s for the best. Jack is not dating material in any way, shape, or form. That’s one of the reasons I’d stopped circling Quinn and given it a shot. Which had gone so well . . .
    Except it
had
gone well with Quinn. I’d screwed that up, too. I’d been a disappointment to someone I really hadn’t wanted to disappoint.
    “Nadia?”
    “Thank you, for this.” I managed a smile for him as I lifted the cup, then took a deep drink. “Mmm.”
    “Still warm?”
    I nodded and scooted back on the bed and motioned for him to sit on the edge, which he did.
    “How’s Scout?” he asked.
    I smiled, genuine now. Jack had given me Scout last spring, as a thank-you for his stay at the lodge. Also because he’d been wanting me to have a dog for years for protection. He knew I wasn’t opposed to the idea. I’d taken in a stray when I was a kid, only to come home and find my mother had made it disappear. I’d wanted a dog; I just didn’t feel my life was stable enough for one. It was and he knew that.
    I told Jack a few Scout stories, including her encounter with a “black-and-white kitty” last month. That relaxed me, along with the hot chocolate. Soon I was crawling under the covers. He kept me talking, about the dog, the lodge, anything not related to Wilde and last night, until I finally drifted off.
* * *
    I dreamed of Rose and Alan Wilde. And of my cousin Amy and her killer, Drew Aldrich. I dreamed that Amy and Drew
were
Rose and Alan, a version of them, the two stories merging. I was at the marina, arguing with Amy, telling her Aldrich was dangerous. She laughed and said I was being silly, I was always being silly.
    Then Drew came with another girl and they fought and Amy drove off. Drew went after her. I didn’t try to stop him. I just headed to my car, telling myself it was nothing, they always fought, no big deal. Then Paul Tomassini called and told me Amy was dead. And I knew it was my fault.
    It had always been my fault.
    I half woke and heard Jack’s distant voice, telling me it was okay, everything was okay, go back to sleep.
    When I did, I fell into a memory. I was thirteen, walking home from the train station with Amy. We’d spent the day at the Canadian National Exhibition in Toronto, and Amy’s dad was supposed to pick us up at the station, but he wasn’t there. I’d wanted to wait. She’d started walking, so I had to walk, too, had to stay with her, keep her safe. That was my job.
    Amy was a year older than me, but reckless, impetuous. Her dad had told me to keep an eye on her that day, knowing I would.
    We were still walking when Drew Aldrich offered us a ride. I said no. He was twenty-four, and I didn’t like the way he looked at Amy. Didn’t like the way she looked