Ada's wallet felt heavy, ominous in her pocket as she let herself into the busy deli. She had done work on the owner's car about six months prior, and learned something very interesting about him. Shawn enjoyed bartering and trading to a fault. He tried to offer her free meals up to the cost of replacing his muffler rather than pay her. She said no, but it did lead to her questioning the sorts of trades he took. So when she winked at Shawn—his bushy moustache now covering most of his mouth—and saw him incline his head toward the back, a thrill of optimism took her for a moment.

He had only been in the back for a moment before a round-cheeked lad emerged, smoothing his stained apron on his way to the counter. Ada nodded to him and squeezed past. Shawn was just outside the back door, a cigarette already half-done between his cracked lip and moustache.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked in a thick French she struggled to comprehend at times. True curiosity arched his left brow.

"I know how much you enjoy gossip; what would it take to get you to share some of it?" Ada leaned back on the rough brick between the doorway and the dumpster. Chilly air nipped her nose.

The arch deepened. "Well that depends on what sort of gossip you're looking for. Keep it quick, I have to get back in there. That boy can't slice bread worth shit."

"I'm looking to get my hands on something of value."

"Something specific?"

"Not exactly. I have parameters, but I have a feeling you'll be able to think of something."

He took a long drag, finishing off what was left of his cigarette before withdrawing and lighting another with the dying ember of the first. "It's going to cost you."

"How much?"—He told her, and she withdrew three pink bills from her wallet, but did not hand them over; they rolled easily into a tube in her palm—"Something high value, low risk. Jewellery, cash, grow-op; I don't really care. Where do I look?"

Shawn dragged his eyes from the money in her hand, face pensive. Eventually, he said, "Blackmail up your alley?"

Ada shrugged. "Depends on the risk involved. It's not for me, and if we're looking at blackmail against someone particularly violent, my buyer won't go for it."

"Hey, there are plenty of people willing to buy the materials from you and do the work themself; but if your buyer is willing to play the waiting game, they can likely get a lot out of the target. If not, they can make decent coin finding someone who will." He blew a cloud of smoke right into her face. "Sorry. Anyway, you know the old iron mine out of town? I play poker with the accountant every week. Guy's been tense these past few weeks, says he's been asked to do something shady. I don't know what, exactly, but this guy's no wiener."

Ada hummed softly, thumbing her lip. "So you think he's cooking the books? You think they'll pay to get that information back?"

"Look, this guy is no stranger to a little number-fudging, so to get him this rattled, it must be something pretty substantial. He's got an office on the second floor. It's a pretty big place, used to be an enormous operation fifteen years ago. All I know is his office faces the main mine shaft. He bitches about the noise every week."

Shawn's eyes drifted to the cash in her fist, and she passed it over. She could work with this. An old mining office building some digging through a Windows '95 yellowed with smoke. She had done far more difficult jobs before for far less payout. She also couldn't deny her curiosity at what they could possibly be doing. She probably wouldn't figure it out from some spreadsheets, but with any luck it would be obvious.

Ada left through the alley as Shawn went back in, pocketing the bills with pride. It set her back some on her car goal, but with any luck the payoff would be worth it. She hopped on her bike and went home. After the back and forth from Aidan and Noah's place, she finally got around to changing the chain and brakes. It made the trip a lot shorter.

Her fingers were starting to numb when she got home. She had to push it by the seat to fit through to the backyard, where she chained it to the beam supporting the awning. She was eager to get researching, but her stomach was insistent.

The smell of bacon made her stomach ache. She did a bit of reading about the mine when she wasn't otherwise occupied. It had been opened long before she was born and had been hanging by a thread for some time. It was more than two hours by bike. If people weren't so weird, she might have considered hitchhiking. Again she longed to have a car of her own.

The doorbell sang sadly, out of tune, sending a chill down Ada's spine. No one they knew rang the bell. It could be a delivery, though. She raced to get the door before her bacon burned.

She couldn't turn the momentum around in time. Her stomach dropped and dread seeped through her pores before she was able to attempt to shut the door again. Storm clouds beneath strong, fair brows met hers. Stubble glowed on his jaw. Charles threw one palm up, widening the gap to allow him over the threshold.

"No," Ada barked, backing away from the door.

A chain on his sleeve rattled. Though only a few inches taller than her, he seemed to loom over her. Ada couldn't keep the distance between them. The stair hit her ankle, but before she could climb, his arm under her jaw forced her back against the wall. The chain bit into her throat. She could breathe, though barely. Ada fought down anxiety, the desire to gasp for air that would only lead to her hyperventilating. From the corner of her eyes, Jocelyn was locking the door behind her. Her hair was a neon pink streak Ada couldn't focus on through the welling tears. Ada rammed her fists into his arm, his ribs, anything she could reach. Her eyes were stinging. Rage and terror made her heart kick violently.

The smoke detector screamed, and Charles jerked back in surprise. Ada lurched for the railing so she wouldn't fall, sucking in greedy breaths. Then, she rose to her full height, brought back her arm, and struck Charles' jaw with all her might. His head whipped around, eyes bulged with shock. A small opening between him and the banister appeared, and she shoved past him to shut off the stove. Jocelyn's musical laugh followed her.

"When did you learn how to punch?"

He actually sounded amused. They filled the doorway a moment later, but came no closer. Jocelyn's shoulder shook with silent chuckles. A red welt was growing on his jaw.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Ada's voice was somewhat raspy. The frying pan in her hand smoked steadily.

"We wanted to make sure you were serious about your proposition." Charles cracked his neck. "And I've been meaning to tell you this to your face: fuck you." He spit the words with a nasty grin. "So, what's this plan of yours?"

Ada gaped at him for a moment. "You're a real piece of work, you know that? Both of you." She tossed the charred mess in the sink, and it sizzled as she added water. Jocelyn's hair was shorter than ever, cropped below her jaw with a sharp, full fringe. "I only just got the target, what am I even supposed to tell you?"

"What sort of payout are we looking at?" Jocelyn folded her arms; she stood only an inch shorter than Charles and was no less intimidating with her falsely sweet smile.

"Blackmail. You can either do it yourself or sell it to someone who will."

Charles scoffed. "Boring."

"Who gives a shit? You're not helping me. Take it or get the hell out." Ada leaned on the edge of the counter, arms crossed.

He paused, considering. "How big are we talking?"

"Hard to say." She shrugged, choosing her words. "It's a mining company, an old one. All I know is the accountant is terrified of what he's doing. It sounds serious."

Jocelyn rolled her eyes. "Sounds pretty vague to me."

"We pulled bigger on less," Ada reminded her, and she nodded once. "Look, there's going to be work afterwards, but imagine the money you can make from a big company if they're doing something illicit on the side."

"Multiple payouts. Yeah, that might be worth it." Charles went to the couch and settled in, arms splayed out over the backrest. His eyes roamed the room. "You don't live alone."

Ada scowled at him and took the armchair once they were both settled. "What are you on about?"

"You couldn't afford a place this big on your salary alone." He smirked back.

"My file." He nodded, grinning, and Ada sighed. "Well, you're right, I don't, not that it's your business."

"Where is she?" He seemed genuinely curious.

"Family stuff."

"And you didn't go with her?" Jocelyn sounded amused.

"No, because I had to deal with your bullshit," she snapped back.

"So she doesn't know?" Jocelyn asked.

"She knows, but only the old stuff. If she had her way, we wouldn't be having this discussion." Ada left the possibilities open, as she had no idea what Sam would really do. Hell, maybe she'd even help. Ada didn't want her in such a position, though. "We're getting off topic. Let's finish this up so I can get on with the job, okay? I don't have a lot of time."

"Fine, but if this payout isn't substantial, we're not going without you." Jocelyn leaned forward on her knees. "There's a big one coming up back home, and you would make it a helluva lot easier on us. They asked for you specifically. Your reputation isn't forgotten."

Though Jocelyn grinned, Ada felt nauseous. Ada talked them through her plan as far as it had come. She could tell from the exterior photos that the building was pretty straightforward, just one large rectangle with a short offshoot at the back on the first floor only. Ada described the office she was looking for, and what sort of information she would be bringing that they could use against the company. Ada admitted it wasn't much to go on, but she had enough to work with.

They left at dusk. Neither laid another hand on her, though she never let her guard down. It happened only rarely; Charles generally had a good hold on his anger, but sometimes he lost that grip. Sometimes he hurt people. Not Ada, most of the time. She would get the occasional shove or shoulder punch if she really irritated him when they were younger. He hadn't yet turned his true anger on anyone he knew, not until that evening. Ada rubbed the ache and watched their car drive off.

They wasted too much of her time. She hurried upstairs and crawled into the closet to fumble for a battered shoe box. It was dusty and wedged beneath an old sewing machine in the very back corner. When at last she freed it, she nearly tumbled out the door. The dark colour scheme was scuffed and torn in places from years of abuse. Ada flipped the lid, which flopped back without resistance.

An old charcoal toque sat on the very top, shielding a stack of letters and cards. Ada set the hat in her lap and the cards aside. Beneath that, a pair of weathered leather gloves which left just the fingertips exposed. They concealed an object that filled her with all sorts of apprehension. She lifted it out by the strap, the buckle clattering. A black sheath as long as her palm came with it, holding a slender hunting knife.

Ada set her haul on the bed and got changed. Stained, navy jeans—the ones she wore to break into the veterinary office—and a black pullover over her already black tee shirt. The knife went around her right ankle, tucked into the top of her Docs. She wrapped her hair into a tight bun, covered that with the toque, and slipped on the gloves last. The familiarity was soothing for a second, alarming the next.

Shit, this was happening. The familiar pinch of the leather strap around her leg sent a thrill through her. She had never needed to pull the knife, but it made her feel better to wear it. Good, almost. The rolled cuff of her jeans covered the top inch of her boot; the blade was easy to access should she need it. May she not need it, though.

The trip would be long, and Ada was nervous. She dragged the container out from under the bed and rolled up a joint to smoke in the back yard. Between them, they had a pretty decent selection in that box.

On her way out the door, she grabbed a USB stick from Sam's desk, and a tiny metallic flashlight from the emergency drawer in the kitchen. She couldn't think of anything else to bring. Her case of tools was in her pocket already.

After locking up, Ada dragged one of the Muskoka chairs to the edge of the porch to stare at the stars as she smoked. Peace settled within, sitting alone in the dark like that. Smoke coiled on her tongue, spilled out of her lips on a lazy exhale. Her throat burned, and she was glad for it.

Ada typed up a message to Sam. She hadn't landed yet, but she would see it soon. 'Have fun tomorrow. I know you'll be busy, so don't worry if you can't text, I understand. We can catch up after ;)'

There were many things she wanted to say, and she typed and erased many of them before settling on that message. Most sounded too clingy, or like she was hiding something—which she was, but that wasn't it. One wasn't worthy of being said over a text.

Ada put her phone on silence and dropped it, along with her wallet and keys, into her backpack. Her jacket would be going in there later, too, which would keep the contents quiet if she had to move quickly. Her heart pumped uncomfortably as she mounted her bike and half walked, half rode it around the house.