“Where were you supposed to take her?” I ask.
His chest heaves. “I don’t know.” The words are a low and mournful sound. “I was the driver.”
Apparently he’d taken off when his friends had lost the firefight. Not very sporting of him. “Tell me everything you do know.”
He straightens like an eager puppy. “Our group was paid a million dollars up front with a promised five million if we secured her.” He glances at his still unmoving buddy. “The transaction was in cash and all communications via written notes that we burned.”
Shit. Most folks aren’t smart enough to stay away from the convenience of technology. “Who received the note?”
“Tarantula did. He’s dead,” Renaldo says.
Anybody named Tarantula deserves to be dead. I cock my head at Justice, who’s now scrolling through his phone.
“High up,” he murmurs in Gaelic as he no doubt reads the dossiers we’ve compiled on criminal organizations. “We’ve never done business with him, but he’s close to the top. Rather, he was.”
Makes sense. “Do you know who killed your three fellow gang members?”
Renaldo looks away from the knife protruding from his leg. “Rumor has it the Sokolov family guards returned fire and Alana Beaumont escaped out the back.” He focuses on me, the pain in his eyes evident. “If you’re looking for her, I can tell you that nobody knows where she is. The Beaumonts have reached out to Twenty-One Purple, and there’s a five hundred thousand dollar retrieval fee.”
“Alive?” I ask.
He gulps again. “Yeah. Yeah, man. Definitely alive. They don’t want her back dead. The rules are clear.”
I do like clear rules. “What about the Sokolov family?”
“Nothing that I’ve heard.” He looks around and then shows a fair amount of backbone by asking another question. “Are you going to kill me?”
“Should I?” I cock my head.
He coughs. “No?”
“Where’s his phone?” I ask.
One of my men tosses it to Justice. He snatches it out of the air and walks over, holding the screen up to Renaldo’s face. It unlocks easily. Justice scrolls through, no expression on his hard face. Finally, he shakes his head. Nothing illegal or offensive on the phone.
“Do you run kids?” I ask.
Renaldo grimaces. “Gross. No.” He sighs. “The higher-ups run girls, and I hate it.” His voice has the ring of truth.
“Drugs?” I ask.
“Yeah.” He glances again at his unconscious buddy. I may have hit him hard enough to drive his nose into his brain. “I take orders and deliver, but I don’t have access to the sources. I’m not very high up. Yet.”
I reach over and yank the hood off the other man, noting his wide-open blank eyes. Yep. I did kill him. Blood covers the lower half of his face from his smashed nose. He appears to be around forty. “What about him?”
Renaldo shifts on the chair and hisses, his face turning the color of Italian marble. “He was higher up.” A certain note in his voice catches my attention. Slightly elevated. I nod to Wynd, who’s been quiet in the back of the little cave, and he goes to the body and removes a phone. It takes three tries to hold it in front of the dead guy’s face before it opens. He scrolls through and his jaw hardens.
“Kids?” I ask.
He nods.
Fuck, I hate pedophiles. Guess I killed the right guy.
Renaldo sags as if knowing he’s about to die. “I didn’t know that but it doesn’t surprise me. Ratchet was a jerk.” He sighs. “I shouldn’t say that, but why not tell the truth at the time of death?”
Because the truth is often both irrelevant and way too late coming. “What do you have to live for?” I ask, reaching into my back pocket for a piece of chocolate.
“A baby,” he says softly. “I’m in the life and not leaving, but my girlfriend is pregnant with my first kid.”
“Do you think that will keep me from killing you?” I ask, eating the chocolate to cleanse the mint from my palate.
He looks beyond me to the stone wall separating us from the sea. “No. I’ve heard about you. Everyone has. You’re a killer.”
“That I am,” I agree as the chocolate takes effect. “I’m also a businessman.”
He tries to hide it, but hope appears in his eyes. All humans, probably excluding me, feel hope whether they like it or not. I figure it somehow lurks in our DNA. I flash back to Alana telling me that the obedience gene is located on the Y chromosome. A tingling warmth slides through my frozen veins.
Renaldo waits, his instincts whispering not to speak.
I cock my head. “I have people on the inside of your little gang.” Sure, those gang members are notoriously dangerous in today’s world, but my people? The families who actually run this world? We’re the ones to fear. “I wouldn’t mind another mole.”
His eyes narrow, proving he’s not a complete moron. “You’re going to let me go?”
The taste of parsley slides across my tongue. Not enjoyable, but nowhere near evil. “Yes. Wynd will get you sutured up and then give you a schedule for check-ins.” I smile and enjoy how he draws back again. Not stupid at all. “You’ll be chipped, and if you cross me, you’ll wish I had tortured you for the rest of tonight before feeding the remaining pieces of your body to the sharks.” I lean in, making sure he understands. “And it won’t just be you. Everyone you’ve ever smiled at will join you in death. Get me?”
He nods so quickly I can almost hear his brain rattling against his skull.
“Good. The first thing you’re going to do is get me information on who hired your gang to kidnap Alana.” I keep his gaze. “I don’t care what you have to do to find me information. No limits. Got it?”
