Sting

She gave her head a firm shake.

“Then if it wasn’t Josh, who did you talk to on the phone?”

“Nobody,” she said, but the turbulence in her eyes evidenced how fast the wheels of her mind were spinning.

He pressed, but asked softly, “Who did you talk to?”

“Why should I tell you anything?”

“Because you know what will happen if you don’t.”

“I know what will happen if I do!”

“We’ll go to Josh—”

“You’ll kill both of us.”

“And pass on the thirty million? I don’t think so.”

“Josh hasn’t got the—”

“Who called you?”

“—money.”

“Who did you talk to?”

“No one!”

“Tell me now, or by God, I’m taking Panella’s deal.”

She sucked in a breath, wet her lips, and said huskily, “I didn’t talk to anybody.”

“Jesus, Jordie, don’t—”

“But I—”

“—be stupid.”

“But I did get a call.”

Chapter 17

A rumble of thunder interrupted the sudden and taut silence between them. Shaw didn’t seem to notice. Her admission had cemented his attention on her.

She asked, “May I have some water, please?”

He straightened up and walked over to the car. Leaning into the driver’s seat, he reached beneath the dashboard for the trunk release. The lid popped open, the light inside came on, and Jordie was grateful for it and the dome light. With only the slate-gray remnants of daylight eking through the cracks in the walls, it had grown almost completely dark inside the building.

The back half of it was especially dark.

He returned to her with a bottle of water. She thanked him and drank deeply. When she’d had all she wanted, he took the bottle from her. “We’re running low.” He drank the rest, threw the empty bottle into the trunk, then came back to her.

“Male or female?”

“What?”

“The person who called you.”