I’m intrigued. From Sloane’s description of him as boring, I was expecting less energy. “Why? Is your master, Kazimir, coming to rescue you? You’re not high up enough on the totem pole, boyo.”
“I’m talking about kidnapping my woman.”
Hearing him call her that sets my teeth on edge. “Your woman? You seem to be operating under the misconception that she gives a shite about you.”
Or that she could belong to anyone. No man could ever really own her. Like all unbroken spirits, she can’t be claimed.
Stavros is undeterred by my sarcasm. “You have no idea how she feels about me.”
“I know she thinks you’re as interesting as curdled milk.”
“She wouldn’t tell you the truth!”
“She might. Under pressure.”
The insinuation that I’ve tortured her for information doesn’t faze him. He shakes his head vehemently.
“You don’t know her. Sloane’s not like other people. She won’t give anything she doesn’t want to give, no matter what it costs.”
I’m starting to get aggravated by his confidence. Could she have lied to me about her feelings for him?
“Everyone has a breaking point. You, for instance. How many fingers of yours will I have to remove before you tell me everything I want to know about your boss?”
His reply is instant. “None. I’ll tell you anything. I’ll tell you everything about him that I know.”
Spider is astonished. “This is the loyalty you show your king?”
“I don’t care about him. I only care that you don’t harm Sloane. If you let her go, I’ll do whatever you ask. I’ll spy on him if you want me to.”
Disgusted, Spider spits on the cement. “Unfuckingbelievable. For a woman.”
I turn and give him a cold stare. In Gaelic, I say tightly, “That’s a mighty high horse you rode in on. Have you already forgotten how easily the same woman tested your loyalty, Homer?”
He freezes. A look of guilt comes into his eyes.
“Take off his hood. And get me a chair.”
I turn back to Stavros and watch as Spider pulls the hood from his head. Stavros sees me standing in front of him and gives me a quick once-over.
I’m satisfied to see him swallow in fear.
Spider places a chair in front of me and stands back. I turn the chair around, straddle it, and sit facing Stavros with my forearms resting on top, my hands dangling loosely over the edges.
Then I tell Spider to leave us alone.
When the echo of his footsteps have faded, I say to Stavros, “You’re in love with her.”
The question catches him off guard. I can tell he’s trying to guess what angle I’m playing. He debates with himself for a moment, then says simply, “Yes.”
“So much so that you’d betray Kazimir without a thought.”
“Yes.”
Interesting. “How long were the two of you together?”
He’s starting to look confused. Maybe he expected I’d be slicing off body parts by now, not engaging in polite conversation.
“Three months.”
That’s all? When I raise my brows, he says defensively, “Fourteen weeks, to be exact. And two days.”
Jesus. I’m sure if I asked him how many hours and minutes, he’d know.
He blurts, “Tell me if she’s all right.”
Holding his gaze, I say quietly, “You’re in no position to be making demands.”
“Please. I have to know. It’s killing me. I’ve been going out of my mind.”
His dark eyes plead with me. I experience a strong urge to gouge them out. Instead of doing that, I say, “She’s fine.”
His exhalation is huge and relieved. He says a prayer of thanks to the Virgin Mary in Russian. Now I’d like to pour gasoline over this kid and light him on fire.
My ego decides it’s time to fuck with me and reminds me that Stavros isn’t a kid. He’s a man, full-grown. And, like Sloane, at least a decade younger than I am. He’s young, strong, good-looking, and madly in love with my captive.
Maybe her perfume is laced with oxytocin. It would explain a lot.
“What is it you love so much about her?”
“Everything.”
“Name one thing.”
He’s even more confused by my challenging tone. If I’m being honest, it’s confusing me, too.
“Is this some kind of game?”
“Indulge me.”
After a moment of closely inspecting my expression, his changes to one of horror. His voice comes out choked. “You have feelings for her.”
I scoff. “Aye. Many feelings. Annoyance. Aggravation. Exasperation. I could go on.”
When he only keeps staring at me with that look of dismay, I decide to prod him a little. “I admit, her tits are bloody amazing. And that arse…well. You know.”
My smile suggests I’ve seen quite a lot of her perfect arse. Suggests that I’ve taken it. As I knew it would, the idea drives him insane.
“Fuck you!”
“No, thanks. Back to Sloane.”
He seethes for a while, debating whether to scream more obscenities at me or obey.
“I won’t talk to you about her.”
I remove my gun from my waistband, lean forward, and shove it against his kneecap. “How about now?”
He’s sweating. The veins in his neck stand out. He licks his lips nervously, takes a breath, then shakes his head.
His courage surprises me. Deeply. After twenty years in the syndicate, I’m rarely surprised. “You’d give up your boss for nothing, but you won’t talk to me about a woman you’re not even with anymore?”
“Not for nothing. For her. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”
He’s so frightened, he’s almost shitting himself. But he’s also defiant. Willing to get his kneecap blown off to defend her honor.
Goddammit. I refuse to like this kid.
I lean closer and shove the gun into his crotch. He emits a small cry of terror.
“Let’s try this again. What is it you love so much about her?”
He spends a few moments hyperventilating and convulsively swallowing the excess saliva in his mouth. I give him some leeway to pull himself together and wait calmly until he manages to speak.
“S-she’s the smartest person I’ve ever met.”
Fuck. I was hoping he’s say something shallow about her body so I could shoot his dick off. I say drily, “She agrees with you. What else?”
“She isn’t afraid of anything. She’s thoughtful and kind. And funny. You don’t expect a girl so hot to be funny, but she is.”
“But irritating, though, right? Didn’t she irritate you something brutal?”
He looks appalled by the suggestion. “No. She’s not irritating. She’s a goddess.”
I’m beginning to see why Sloane got bored of him. His earnestness is tiresome. This kid is as dry as unbuttered toast. She’s so far above his head, they’re not even in the same atmosphere.
I shove the gun back into my waistband and consider him.
Apparently, he thinks I’m plotting his murder. He turns a shade paler and starts to shake.
“I’m not going to kill you, Stavros.”