He stared at the rising sun. His men knew better than to leave him hanging.
They all knew that the last thing they ever wanted to do was disappoint him. Disappointments could be fatal. Correction, disappointments were fatal.
“What do you want to do with him, boss?” A growling voice broke into his thoughts.
Kurt’s gaze slid toward the man still tied in his chair. That blue hair hung in the clerk’s eyes. His face was swollen. Lips busted. “You weren’t very helpful, Charlie,” Kurt told him.
Charlie Murphy. Twenty-two years old. Thief. Drug dealer. No family. No friends who gave a damn about him. It had been so easy to learn everything about the punk. Some people just could not handle pain.
Charlie whimpered. “I told you…told you everything that I knew.”
Yes, he actually believed that the younger man had done just that. Unfortunately, Charlie knew shit.
Kurt studied him, frowning. “You understand who I am, don’t you?” Charlie hadn’t just been a clerk at the hotel. Charlie had been a distributor. His youthful appearance had let him blend with the teens in the area, and Charlie had been passing his drugs off for years.
Charlie was far more industrious than he appeared.
Charlie’s head tipped back. His eyes met Kurt’s, just for a moment, before his gaze darted away. As if he was too afraid to hold Kurt’s stare for long.
Good. Kurt enjoyed invoking fear in others. One of his favorite things to do. Everyone had to enjoy a hobby.
“I-I know,” Charlie whispered.
“Right. That’s why you sent in the tip about Delaney. You were in the network who knew I was searching for her.” The drugs Charlie distributed? They came from Kurt. “You wanted to impress me, didn’t you?” He stalked toward Charlie. “I am not impressed.”
“Oh, God.” A desperate gulp.
Kurt assessed his prey as he began to plan. “You have two choices. Either die right here…”
“No! Please, no!” Frantic shakes of Charlie’s head. “I will do anything, just don’t kill me! Don’t!”
Ah, fabulous. That was just the kind of positive, enthusiastic talk that Kurt liked to hear. “Or you do exactly what I say. You follow every order I give with no questions.”
Charlie’s head stopped shaking.
“I know all about the skeletons in your closet, Charlie. With one phone call, I could have you locked away. There are lots of cops who see the value in working with me.” A pause. “Or I could just kill you here and now.”
“No, No, I can follow orders, I promise! I can!”
Good. “I want my wife back.” Not his wife, not yet. But, soon, she would be. “And you are going to help me get her.”
Charlie scrunched his face. That young, currently battered-looking face. The guy looked like such a victim.
And Delaney had such a soft, soft heart. He’d originally approached her while she was working for the charity she loved so much in Milan. In truth, he’d found it fucking hilarious that the granddaughter of Carmello Ricci had been intent on helping people. Especially when Carmello destroyed lives with a snap of his fingers every single day.
Priceless.
“How am I gonna get her?” Charlie wanted to know.
Kurt smiled at him. “Don’t worry. I’m working on the plan. Though, I do have to warn you, you may need to suffer more in order for it to work.”
Charlie whimpered again. That pathetic, weak whimper.
“That’s the spirit,” Kurt praised.
Chapter Fifteen
The Wedding March was playing again.
