Sting

“Actually, I was thinking we could call Panella back,” he said. “That would kill some time.”

Watching her watch him, he replaced the battery in Mickey’s phone and clicked it on. As the phone booted up, he studied her face in the minimal light of the screen. “What were you doing back there?” Using his chin, he motioned toward the back of the building.

“Taking a sponge bath.”

“What else?”

“I was avoiding the mouse droppings.”

“That’s all?”

“What else could I have been doing?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t like surprises.”

“So you’ve said.”

She was looking straight into his eyes, challenging him. He got to the call memory and pressed his thumb against the screen, then put the phone on speaker.

Panella answered after the first ring. “All right, asshole,” he said in his garbled voice. “Two million.”

Jordie drew in a startled breath. Her lips remained parted. Her eyes seemed to dilate.

Panella was saying, “I’ve already notified an offshore bank that I’ll be making a wire transfer in that amount. After I get indisputable confirmation of the kill, of course.”

“I’ll text you a photograph.”

“No.”

“Didn’t think so,” Shaw said. “So how do I confirm to you she’s dead?”

“I’m making arrangements for that.”

“Um-huh. I’ll bet you are. Like the arrangement for me that you and Mickey had planned.” When Panella didn’t respond, Shaw said, “Not that I mistrust you, Panella, but I’m gonna require a show of your good faith.”

“What would show my good faith?”

“Half up front.”

“Forget it.”

“Half up front, or I take one of those options I outlined to you earlier.”

“Know what would show your good faith? If you’d stop screwing around and get the job done. Now. Before her double-crossing brother gets himself recaptured. It doesn’t have to be fancy. I just want Josh Bennett to know she’s dead. Soon.”

Shaw waited several beats, then said a brusque “I’ll get back to you” and clicked off.

For the entirety of the conversation, he hadn’t broken eye contact with Jordie. After he hung up, ponderous moments passed with neither of them moving, then she took off like a sprinter. He barely managed to grab her shirttail and hold on as he pulled her back. She came around swinging, her fist landing hard on his cheekbone.

“Goddammit!” The pain brought sudden tears to his eyes. He lost his grip on her top, and she got several yards away from him before he lunged after her. He caught her from behind in a bear hug and pinned her arms to her sides.

“Stop it! Listen! You don’t have to die!”

She kept struggling, until she realized the futility of her struggle and what he was saying sank in. Her ponytail swept across his face as she whipped her head around and looked at him over her shoulder. “What?”

“Are you gonna listen? Or act like a madwoman until you force me to shoot you just to get rid of you?” She didn’t say anything but ceased straining to break his hold. Not completely trusting her capitulation, he relaxed the bear hug, but took her arm and pulled her back to the crate. “Sit down.”

She backed onto it, but looked ready to spring off it at any second, and he noticed the furtive glances she kept casting toward the back of the building.