Made to Be Broken by Kelley Armstrong

shaking his head.
    "All cleaned up," I said.
    "I see that."
    He scratched his jaw, wincing as he hit a fresh shaving nick. His hair glistened from a quick shower. He wore the sweatpants from earlier, but had pulled on a T-shirt, showing lean muscled arms with no scars, no tattoos, no distinguishing features – those he added only with a disguise.
    When Jack had started coming to see me at the lodge, I'd always presumed he was in disguise. He hadn't been. The darkness had been disguise enough, though it also had the effect of making him look younger, leading to a stellar foot-in-mouth moment when I first saw him in the light and commented on his aging techniques... only to realize later he hadn't been using any.
    Like his arms, the rest of him – the visible parts at least – bore no distinguishing features. There was little distinguishing about Jack at all. Average build, average height. He had an angular face that couldn't quite be called handsome, with lines deepening by his mouth and between his eyes, threatening to become creases. His wavy black hair was shot through with silver. Midforties, maybe creeping toward fifty.
    Jack's eyes were the only feature a witness might remember, not for any unusual color or shape, but for his gaze – that piercing, unnerving way of watching, as if tracking everything around him. Even that, though, he could turn off with a blink and retreat into unadulterated ordinariness. Perfect for a hitman.
    "Evelyn thinks you should lie low with me for a while, at the lodge."
    "Nah."
    He hobbled to the bed. I resisted the impulse to help.
    "So you're fine," I said as he sat.
    "Yeah."
    "All right, then."
    I headed for the door.
    "Shouldn't have called," he said.
    I turned. "What?"
    "Evelyn. Bothering you. Shouldn't have."
    "She's concerned."
    A grunt. He scratched his chin again. The conversation, such as it was, was over. I wanted to turn and walk out, made it forty-five degrees, then stopped.
    "I have the room, Jack. It's a slow time of the year. One more guest wouldn't be a problem." I managed a small laugh. "Free housekeeping, if that's any incentive. And meals, of course. You've had Emma's cooking, and you know it's better than take-out pizza." I heard an edge of desperation creep into my voice and choked it back. "I'm just saying that the offer's genuine. Evelyn isn't twisting my arm."
    "Nah."
    He reached for the cigarette pack on the bedside table, as if I'd already left.
    I made it as far as the door, hand on the knob.
    "How's it going?" he asked.
    I looked over my shoulder. "How's what going?"
    A shrug. "Stuff. The lodge. The job. You. Things okay?"
    "Everything's fine."
    He nodded and struck a match. I waited five seconds. Then I left.

Chapter Eight
    Self-delusion is grand, ain't it? I'd convinced myself I'd only wanted to see Jack, and make sure he was okay. Like when I'd started high school and told my mother I didn't expect a Santa stocking anymore. Of course I'd still wanted one. But if I'd expected my mother to get me anything she didn't need to, I'd been delusional.
    I had continued to get stockings, but from my father, on the sly, so neither of us would have to deal with my mother's "you spoil her" tirades. I'd gotten them every year, even after I graduated from police college and moved to Toronto. Then the next year, there'd been no one to give it.
    I hadn't seen my mother in three years. Or spoken to my brother in four. And now Jack... I was starting to sense a pattern. After Amy's death twenty years ago, my relationships with others had changed. I was still as sociable as ever, but it was like with my guests at the lodge. I gave generously; expected nothing; accepted nothing.
    I'd say it's my personality. I'm a people-pleaser. But buried in that is the other side of the equation. If you take nothing, you owe nothing. Keep the account square.
    Like Jack...
    Only I would never let someone travel four hundred kilometers to help me out, then brush her off with a "nah."
    As I backed