She lives there.” He pointed in the direction of the place across the street. “Third floor in that redbrick, three-flat. All the windows are hers, bedroom on the right, living room on the left. Watch her, keep track of her visitors, keep a schedule of her movements.” He handed Liam another photo, this time of a conservative-looking man. “Her partner, Ronald Pettibone, thirty-one, a co-worker at the bank. I want to know if he shows up. I need photos of them together.”

“That’s it? I’m just waiting for him?”

“Yep. If they were in it together, they should make contact so they can divide up the loot. When I get back from Atlantic City-”

“What’s in Atlantic City?”

“A cheating husband,” Sean said. “Big money and an infidelity clause in the prenup. She needs proof.”

“Why don’t you let me take that job and you can stay in this freezing attic and spy on the bean counter?”

“I wanna know who she sees, where she goes,” Sean said.

“Why don’t you just bug her apartment?”

“You can go to prison for that.”

“And not for spying?”

“Nope.”

“So, how long are you going to be gone? If I were going to Atlantic City, I’d have a little fun, meet some pretty girls, do a little gambling. I know this one lady down there who has a killer-”

“It’s strictly business,” Sean muttered.

Liam laughed. “It’s hard to believe you’re a Quinn. When they were handing out the hound-dog gene, they skipped over you.”

“I don’t spend every spare moment chasing woman,” Sean murmured. “I have better things to do with my time.”

“Hey, I don’t chase women. They just happen to chase me. And why they keep chasing you, I’ll never understand. Maybe they like that aloof, silent act of yours. Or maybe they enjoy the challenge. I can hardly wait for the Quinn curse to catch up to you.”

“It won’t if I stay away from women,” Sean murmured. “You’re the one who should worry.”

Liam frowned. “I happen to love women. All kinds of women. And if I keep moving from one to another, none of them will catch me.”