Frantically he unzipped his backpack and withdrew the cell phone he’d taken from one of his guards within the first week of his confinement. For weeks after, he’d overheard the marshal bitching to his cohorts about losing it. Josh had replaced its SIM card with a new and untraceable one that he’d sneaked into the safe house in the lining of his duffel bag.
Once he found the phone, he couldn’t immediately lay his hands on the battery that went with it. Growing increasingly desperate, he dumped the contents of the backpack onto the ground, then rifled through the clothing and various items, scattering them like a cyclone until he found the phone’s battery. With clumsy fingers, gasping for breath, and blinking sweat out of his eyes, he managed to insert it and, as soon as he had a signal, began punching in Jordie’s cell number.
But then his mind screamed, Are you crazy?
He stopped his frenzied motions and took a moment to think.
Whether or not Jordie was dead by now, she wouldn’t be answering her phone.
But someone else might. Her kidnapper, maybe. Possibly the police. Whoever answered would want to know who was calling her. What would he say? “This is her brother. The one who double-crossed both the ruthless Billy Panella and the federal government? The one who became a fugitive last Tuesday. Maybe you’ve heard of me?”
Thinking more rationally now, he leaned back against the stout tree trunk, closed his eyes, and forced himself to take deep, even breaths. Several minutes passed. His pores stopped leaking sweat. His heart rate slowed. His nose stopped dripping and his nausea subsided.
He got a grip.
He opened his eyes, found his eyeglasses amid the strewn articles on the ground, and put them on. As though they were fitted with magic lenses, he began to view the situation from a whole new prospective—that of Billy Panella.
Because, even while working hand in glove with the man and hating him to his very marrow, he’d also come to admire the power Panella wielded. No one’s knees shook when the name Josh Bennett was mentioned, but so much as breathe Billy Panella and grown men were said to wet their pants. Josh envied that quality.
Whenever something unexpected happened, he’d seen Panella’s legendary temper erupt. But he’d also watched him quickly regain a cool head and deal with the problem. Never had panic or fear sidetracked him from achieving his objective.
Josh resolved not to be overtaken by them, either.
With hands now steady, he removed the battery from the phone and replaced both in the backpack. He wouldn’t call Jordie. Even if by some miracle he was able to talk to her, what could he say?
Panella had threatened to go after her first if Josh ever betrayed him. Hadn’t Josh dutifully passed along that warning to her?
Yes. Innumerable times.
She should have listened and been more careful. Whatever her fate, she had no one to blame but herself.
He must think only of what was best for him.
Chapter 11
Jordie angled away from Shaw, but there was no escaping his mesmerizing stare.
When she realized she was breathing through her mouth, she pressed her lips closed, but her respiration remained unsteady as she processed this distressing turn of events.
What could Josh be thinking?
He had cut a great deal, far better than she’d dared hope he would get. He’d driven a hard bargain, and the U.S. prosecutor had ultimately granted him full immunity in exchange for testifying against Billy Panella. Yet unbelievably her brother had squandered—
It was unbelievable, wasn’t it?
Her gaze narrowed on her abductor, who was still
leaning over her, applying pressure without even touching her. “You’re a murdering, lying bastard. Why should I take your word for anything?”
“This isn’t a lie.”
“No? Tell me something that’ll convince me it’s the truth.”
“Your heart is still beating.”
He stated it without pause or contemplation. A simple fact. If Josh weren’t a factor, she would be dead. This man would have killed her long before now.
He said, “The instant you’re dead, your value tanks. Alive, you’re a bargaining chip.”