LITMIR.BIZ

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don’t need you to keep me safe,” she retorted, touching the gun strapped to her belt. Her whisper was for his ears only. “I’m a big girl, Mr. Randall. I was top of my class at Quantico.”

      He held her arm. “Before we go in there, you need to understand something. Being top of your class at anything doesn’t matter to these people. They are the worst kind of scum, and they would sooner butcher you than look at you.”

      Blood-soaked images flashed through her head. She’d been undercover during a drug raid in Dallas and...she’d messed up big-time. Her informant, a young female recovering junkie, had been tortured and left for dead because of one slipup. Josie’s slipup. She couldn’t let bad information be her guide ever again.

      Somewhere off in the bug-infested woods, an owl hooted. Then she heard the flutter of powerful wings.

      Another shiver of apprehension went down Josie’s spine, but she shook it off. “Got it. I’m good.” She stared over at him, took a breath. “I’ll do whatever it takes to bring this man down. If we help him tonight, we’ll have leverage, and hopefully, that will convince him to give us the goods on his operation.”

      “Exactly,” Connor said as he ushered her to the big front doors. “He hasn’t executed me yet because I’m the only witness and my testimony can save him. And he’s kind of blackmailing me into helping to save his hide. See, we do think alike.”

      “For now,” she replied, thinking a jury wouldn’t trust either the Mafia don or the good-looking man in the tux. She sure didn’t, now that he’d told her he was doing this to save himself. What a noble concept. “But, Randall...don’t take me for granted, ever.”

      “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

      * * *

      Once they were inside, the elegant warmth of the old mansion shimmered in hues of tasteful art, glittering crystal and aged bone china. The place looked untouched, like something out of another century. But the creepy factor echoed in the garish glowing yellow lights and the scent of too much aftershave.

      “Swag,” she whispered to Connor. “By the way, let’s start with first names only unless I have to tell him I’m also FBI.”

      It still smarted that her new supervisor had kept her so out of the loop on a lot of things regarding Louis Armond that she’d been forced to tug information out of Connor instead. She was surprised Sherwood had let her take point on a one-woman stakeout tonight. But Sherwood had warned her he’d also have a team of other agents out and about, too.

      Fat lot of good that had done Armond.

      Before he could respond, two big men came up the hall. “We need to check for wires or weapons,” one of them growled.

      “I have one gun,” Josie offered, lifting her jacket to show her weapon. “And if you expect me to help with this little problem, I’m keeping it.”

      Connor gave a slight nod to the men. After patting her down and checking the gun, they seemed satisfied. But they also followed on her heels.

      He turned her to the left and motioned her inside the big, antique-filled drawing room, then closed the aged pocket doors. “Mr. Armond, this is my friend...Josie.”

      “Does your friend Josie have a last name?” Armond asked, clearly in control of himself now that help had arrived.

      “Just Josie for now,” she replied before Connor could come up with a name. “You only need to remember that.”

      “I see, Just Josie.”

      Armond sat in a brocade high-backed antique chair, a cup of coffee steaming on the table beside him. His salt-and-pepper hair was crisp with some sort of pomade but his olive-colored skin was pale against his white tuxedo shirt. Did everyone around here wear tuxedos?

      Armond gave her a thorough once-over. “So, Connor has briefed you on the situation and...you can take care of this?”

      Ah, there was that bit of fear and doubt she’d expected. “Yes, he did, and I can, sir. The good news is that no one has come forward stating they saw you with the girl. So far Connor is your only witness and he can vouch for you. The bad news is that, yes, she’s dead and, yes, the NOPD is all over this.”

      “So my name hasn’t come up?”

      “Not so far. The only news right now is that there’s been a shooting near the Quarter.” She pulled out her cell. “I’m checking any trending right now.”

      “Trending?” Armond looked confused.

      Connor stepped forward. “Why don’t we sit down?”

      Josie sat beside him on an exquisite butter-yellow brocade sofa. “Trending—it means news of your mishap might be all over the internet or evening news by now. We’ll check for any witnesses, any mentions of your name, any videos streaming about a woman being murdered.”

      Armond’s face twisted. “Lewanna. That’s the woman.” Then he changed his tune. “Isn’t that dangerous, checking on your phone?”

      She shook her head. “It’s a burner.”

      “Of course,” Connor said on a reassuring note. “I told you Josie knows her stuff.”

      Armond didn’t look convinced. “So...what should I do now?”

      “I’d say we wait,” Josie replied, her fingers tapping on her phone. It really was a burner. She’d hidden her secure work cell in her car, where his men couldn’t find it when they went out to do a search. She’d fill the burner with what she needed and send it to the fake email account she used as Josie Grant. Then she’d hide the phone in her lockbox in her apartment. If she got out of here alive, of course.

      “Look, Mr. Armond, your girlfriend got shot on a city street and there’s bound to be other witnesses who will come forward and tell what they saw.” She leaned forward, her dark bangs covering her face in what she hoped was an intimidating, mysterious way. “Some of them could lie, so it’s a good thing Connor came along when he did. He knows the truth.”

      Glancing over at Connor, she caught a whiff of admiration before his eyes went dark again. Then she turned back to Armond and did her tough-girl act. “Did you see the shooter?”

      Armond shook his head. “No. I was too busy telling Lewanna to leave. We could never be seen together.” He held his hand to his head as if he had a bad headache. “I can’t believe she’s dead. If my wife hears this...”

      Connor got up and poured coffee for Josie and then got himself a cup. “So why did she show up at the opera?”

      “She was frightened,” Armond replied, his hand shaking when he tried to take a sip from his cup. He finally gave up and grabbed a silver flask off the table. Opening it, he poured what looked like whiskey into his coffee. “I’ve never seen Lewanna like that. Someone had left a nasty note on her porch, along with a dead rat.”

      “Do you think she ratted someone out?” Josie asked.

      “No, but someone thinks she did. And that means they also think I ratted them out. Lewanna showed me the note.”

      Connor glanced over at Josie and then turned back to Armond. “Do you have that note?”

      Armond looked shocked, as if he’d forgotten. “I tucked it into my pocket.” He pulled the crushed paper out and stared down at it, then began reading.

      “Your boyfriend has been playing outside the boundaries. Tell Armond he’s a dead man if he crosses that line again.”

      He threw the letter down and stared at Connor. “They know something. They musta found out I was meeting you tonight to give you information.”

      “You can still give us information,” Connor replied, his gaze full of resolve.

      “Did you read that note?” Armond asked in

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