Comportment-wise, she’d been cautious, but controlled. Cool.

By contrast, her clothes were now stained with blood. It was caked underneath her fingernails, some of which had been broken when she was scrabbling for the propeller fragment. Her hair had lost its shine and was gathered into a makeshift ponytail; her lips were dry and tightly seamed together.

He’d reduced her to this. No two ways about it: He was a bastard.

She stirred, raised her head, and looked down at him. No longer controlled and cool, she looked desperate and close to unraveling. “You won’t kill anybody else, will you?”

“All depends on how it goes.”

She sniffed. Until then, he hadn’t realized that she was crying. For the first time since Mickey had been shot dead right in front of her, she was shedding tears but doing so silently and with admirable dignity.

“I don’t want anyone else to die because of me,” she said. “Please. Don’t do that to me. Promise.”

He held her gaze for several seconds, then closed his eyes. “No promises, Jordie.”

She made a near inaudible hiccupping sound, but said no more and bent her head over her knees again.

“Know what I keep thinking about?” he asked. “Panella.”

“What about him?”

“I’ll bet he’s fit to be tied, wondering if you’re dead yet. He probably expected me to get back to him within minutes of our last conversation and tell him you were history and ask how to go about collecting my money. You know he’s gotta be climbing the walls. He doesn’t like to be crossed.”

“No. He doesn’t.”

“Huh. Spoken like you know that for fact.”

She didn’t respond. Shaw raised his right hand, the one cuffed to hers. Hers remained limp against his as he gently tugged on a strand of hair that had worked itself out of the bandana holding her ponytail. He kept pulling at it until she turned her head back to him.

“You got on Panella’s fighting side? How come? Wha’d you do?”

“I avoided him.”

“I’ve seen pictures. He’s not bad looking. In fact, Mickey called him a pretty boy.”

“Only on the outside.”

“So you do think he’s attractive.”

“I admit he’s handsome, but I dislike him intensely and have made no secret of it.”

“Ah.”

All this time, he’d been absently playing with the strand of hair still in his grip. Now she pulled it away from him. “Don’t say ‘ah’ like you know what I’m talking about. You don’t.”

“I can take a couple of guesses. One, Panella treated Josh like a lackey. That crawled all over you.”

“True. They were supposed to be equal partners, but the Panella Investments Group bore only one name, and there was no question as to who was in charge. Panella relied on Josh’s acumen. Without it, he couldn’t have made the numbers work for as long as he did.

“But he treated Josh like a doormat and Josh permitted him to. He did what he was told and rarely crossed Panella. I hated that. But their working relationship was between the two of them. I stayed out of it.”

“Did you?”

“Yes.”

“I doubt it. Want to know why? Because Panella seems to resent you almost as much as he despises your brother.” He waited for her to comment and when she didn’t he asked for one.

She said, “There’s no love lost between us.”

“Hmm. Interesting choice of words. I asked Mickey what your relationship was with Panella. He said he didn’t think you had one. That you were just Josh’s next of kin, and, as such, you were a pawn, and that was all there was to it.”

“There you have it.”

“No, I don’t think so. In my experience, if a man wants a woman dead to the tune of two million, his reason usually involves R-rated activities. What I’m thinking—and tell me if I’m getting warm—”

“Just drop it, please?”

“Panella had a lech for you.”

She didn’t say yea or nay.

“You turned him down.”

She didn’t respond.

“Which irked him, and he’s still irked. But he must have gotten some satisfaction from scaring off your boyfriend.”

Her reaction to that was swift and angry. “What do you know about it?”

He gave a meager, nonapologetic shrug. “Mickey liked to gossip, and we had time to kill.”

“While you were tailing me all over Tobias.”

“What happened with the boyfriend? Panella edged in on him?”

“No. There’s never—ever—been anything remotely romantic between Panella and me. From either side.”

“Then why aren’t you and the boyfriend still together?”

“What does it matter?”

“Maybe it doesn’t. But humor me.” He nodded toward the door. “I’m a man on his way to the gallows.”

“In which case one would think you’d rather talk about something else. Your immortal soul, for instance.”

“It’s doomed. No amount of talking will change that. Besides, I want to talk about this.”

“I don’t.”

“What happened with—”

“He got married.”

The waspish answer momentarily silenced them. Then, in a more even tone, she repeated. “He got married. Saint Louis Cathedral. All the trimmings. The union of two families with roots deeply imbedded in New Orleans society.”

Watching her closely, he said, “Bitter pill?”

She gave a rueful smile. “No. I bear Jackson no ill will. He’s a nice man. Too nice to have become involved in a scandal.”

“The scandal being that your brother was a crook.”

“Jackson and his family couldn’t be associated with something that unsavory. He and his father are bigwigs in the financial community. Highly regarded and respected for their integrity. They serve on the board of a major bank.

“In fact, that’s how Jackson and I met. He was put in charge of organizing the bank’s Mardi Gras fete and retained Extravaganza to plan it. He and I worked together on it, and I wound up being his date for the occasion. The party was a huge success and so was the date. We were together for more than two years. Then Josh’s malfeasances came to light.”

“Suddenly you’re a taint on Jackson’s good name. Jackson takes a hike.”

“Essentially.” She reflected for a moment. “Although I understood why he broke up, it did hurt at the time. In hindsight, however, I realize that everything worked out as it should. His bride is perfect for him. All sweetness and light. Not a breath of scandal. She has no aspirations beyond presiding over social and charitable events and being Mrs. Jackson Terrell. I would have soon grown bored with that life.”

“Not enough challenge for you.”

“I suppose. I wouldn’t know how to function in a vacuum, without responsibilities, deadlines to meet, clients to pacify, vendors to haggle with.”

“A spineless brother to defend.”

She gave him a baleful look and said coldly, “Yes. That’s exactly right.”

He backed off that. “You enjoy your work?”