“Did you watch out for him?”

“More or less. Like older siblings do.”

“Which was it? More or less?”

“If I must pick, I’d say more.”

“Why?”

She caught herself shifting her weight—twitching—and stopped. “Every family has a unique dynamic.”

“Those are words that don’t mean shit.”

“In our family they meant that I, as the older child, had an implied responsibility to protect my younger brother.” Actually her responsibility to safeguard Josh had been more than implied. Daily she’d been reminded of it, if not with a verbal admonishment then with sighs of disappointment or looks of reproof which were equally, if not even more, effective.

“To protect him from what?”

“Normal, everyday childhood hazards.”

“Hmm.”

With impatience, she added, “Like stepping on a rusty nail. Tripping down the stairs. Running with scissors.”

“Tiresome and thankless job for a kid,” he said, to which she didn’t respond. “Did your protective tendencies carry over into adulthood?”

“No. We both grew up.”

“Josh grew up to be a thief. What did your mom and dad think about that?”

“What did yours think about what you became?” she fired back.

“Actually my dad was tickled. I followed in his footsteps and had big shoes to fill. In our line of work, he was famous.”

“Oh. Then your upbringing was anything but typical.”

He shrugged. “It was commonplace to me. I was a kid, didn’t know any other kind of family life.”

She thought about that, then remembered his earlier reference to his mother. “Your mama taught you better than to molest a woman, but she was okay with the profession you chose?”

“No, she died wishing I’d taken another career path.”

“She’s deceased?”

“Both of them. Dad shot her, then put the forty-five to his own head and pulled the trigger.”

She couldn’t contain her shock. By contrast, his features remained unmoved and inscrutable.

Was he trying to stun her with cruel candor? Was he even telling the truth? There was no way of knowing. She reasoned that he could lie with nonchalance but could also reveal a terrible truth with matching indifference.

“Was Josh always a tattletale?” he asked.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” she said. “Especially not about Josh.”

“Well, see, you should open up to me about him.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because, Jordie, your little brother just might save you and your saucy ass.”

Ignoring the remark, she pounced on the substance of what he’d said. “How?”

“At some point during our long, overnight drive—”

“You were going in circles the entire time, weren’t you?”

“Do you want to hear this or not?”

Subdued by his sharp tone, she fell silent and gave a small nod.

“Here’s where your life does become your business. Because somewhere between midnight and dawn, it occurred to me that you might be more valuable alive than dead.”

Her heart rate ticked up. She glanced at the pistol, which remained set aside on top of the crate. “You’re not going to kill me after all?”

“Depends. All you gotta do to prevent it is tell me where your brother is.”

Her flare of optimism flamed out. Slumping, she raised her arms to her sides and gave a dry laugh. “I don’t have any idea where Josh is.”

“Jordie,” he said, speaking softly, “what did I tell you about lying to me?”

“That’s the truth! When Josh turned informant, he was placed in protective custody. Even I don’t know where. I’m not allowed any contact with him. He’s being guarded around the clock by federal marshals.”

“Not anymore he’s not.”

Her stomach swooped. “What?”

“Your baby brother Josh eluded his guards and—” he made a whooshing sound and accompanied it with a hand gesture like an airplane taking off “—flew the coop.”

The words and what they signified were so outlandish that at first she couldn’t make sense of them. When the full meaning of what he’d said finally sank in, she was robbed of oxygen. Those scattered thoughts she’d tried to corral moments ago were swept away completely. “You’re lying.”

Slowly he shook his head.

She sucked in a breath. “Josh…”

“Skipped.”

“He left the government’s protection?”

“Sneaked away last Tuesday morning from wherever the feds had him sequestered.”

While she was still trying to assimilate this information, he stood and started walking toward her in a measured tread. “What I think? Panella doesn’t have the thirty million he and your brother stole. Worse for him, he doesn’t know where it’s stashed. Josh does.

“And now nobody, not the feds, nobody is protecting Josh from Billy Panella.” Having reached the hood of the car where she sat, he placed his hands flat on either side of her hips and leaned over her. “Except you.”

Chapter 10

From the moment Josh Bennett determined that his best option was to make a deal with the federal government, he’d begun preparing for the day he would renege on it.

He’d been whisked to the safe house with only the clothes on his back and a small duffel bag containing a few personal items. The bag and its contents had been searched, but not that thoroughly. Special Agent Joe Wiley and company had been concerned about his secreting objects with which he could do himself in. Finding none, his duffel was returned to him with a few trinkets undiscovered.

More important than they, however, was the wealth of information he took with him inside his brain. Little did his jailers—that was not how they were referred to, but that was what they were—realize how many dozens of passwords, account numbers, credit card numbers, and such were committed to the hard drive of his memory.

Over the past six months, he could have outfoxed his guards and fled at any time, but he’d bided his time until a routine had been established, monitoring had loosened up, and the hubbub surrounding his turning FBI informant had died down.