Page 28 of Sting
As the sun was coming up, he pulled off the two-lane highway onto another side road that was almost as rough as the first. Leaving the car to idle, he got out and opened the trunk.
He took what he needed from it and by the time he opened the backseat door, she was struggling to sit up. He reached in to help her, but she recoiled, saying “I can manage.”
“Maybe, but it’s my time you’re wasting.”
He placed a hand on her shoulder and levered her upright. She looked at him resentfully but then noticed the bandana he was shaking out of its folded square. “How many of those do you have?”
“They come twelve to a pack.”
“What’s this one for?”
He placed his foot on the door frame and used his raised knee as a platform on which to fold the bandana into a triangle, then to fold the center point forward several times until he’d formed a strip about three inches wide. “Blindfold.”
“What?”
“Blind—”
“You’re going to blindfold me? Why?”
He gave her a stupid-question look.
“So I can’t see when you shoot me?” Her voice went thin with panic. Just a trace, but discernible.
“Turn your head,” he said.
“No.”
“You’re not gonna face a firing squad, Jordie. I just don’t want you to see where we’re going.”
“I have no idea where we are much less where we’re going. Not even the direction—”
“Turn your head.”
“I can’t see anything when I’m lying down. That’s why you insisted on it, right? So I couldn’t see road signs? The only thing I can see through the window is the sky.”
“Which was fine when it was dark. But now it’s getting light.”
“I won’t be able to see anything.”
“Not if you’re blindfolded. Now turn your head so I can tie this on.”
“You’ll have to force me.”
“Is that what you want?”
She didn’t move.
“Goddammit,” he said under his breath. “It’s been a long night. I’m tired of this crap.”
“I’m tired of you,” she said, her voice cracking. “Why don’t you just get it over with. Panella wouldn’t know when—” She broke off when she realized she had blurted out the name.
It hovered there, a sound wave momentarily trapped between them. Moving slowly, Shaw bent down to bring them eye to eye. “Ooops.” He said it softly but with enough emphasis for her to feel his puff of breath against her face. “Earlier you asked who’d hired Mickey and me to kill you. Why’d you play dumb when you knew it was Billy Panella?”
When she didn’t answer, he pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger and tipped her head back so she had to look at him directly. “Do you know where he is, Jordie?”
“How would I know?”
“Fucking good question.”
