Sting - Page 82

“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?”

She was still hacked, and he wasn’t sure she would answer, but eventually she said, “I love it. I have an excellent staff.”

“How many people?”

“Eight full-time. Others work only the events. They’re all talented and hardworking. They didn’t tuck tail and run when Josh began making headlines.” Her eyes began to fill with tears again. “In fact, they remained fiercely loyal. I regret the hell they must be going through right now, not knowing whether I’m dead or alive.”

“You can blame me.”

“I do.” Her expression turned even bleaker. “You’ve asked me a lot of questions. Am I’m entitled to ask you one?”

“You can ask. Don’t know if I’ll answer.”

“If…” Her voice became husky with exhaustion, anxiety, fear, and a mix of other emotions he couldn’t isolate and identify but wished he could. “If you finally had come to accept that I couldn’t deliver Josh to you, and if I hadn’t done this…” She nodded down at the wound. “If you were certain that Panella would have paid your price…” A single tear slid from the corner of her eye and ran unchecked down her cheek. She took a catchy breath. “Would you have killed me?”

Chapter 21

Her question hung in the air between them.

Suddenly the quiet was shattered by his name being boomed through a speaker and reverberating through the building. He sprang bolt upright and almost blacked out from the reflexive movement and the riot of pain it caused. But his left hand was steady as he aimed his pistol toward the door.

“This is Special Agent Joe Wiley, FBI. Shaw Kinnard?”

“Yeah. And I’m not deaf. Turn off that damn bullhorn.”

After a pause of several seconds, the agent spoke to them in a voice no longer amplified but loud enough to carry. “All right, you asked for me, you got me. I’m coming in.”

“Alone and unarmed,” Shaw said.

Tags: Sandra Brown Mystery
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