His gaze focuses on me. "Boss. We have information."
I glance once more at Liesl, who is now visibly trembling, and look at Viktor. "Talk."
Viktor looks at the woman, then back to me. "She's an heiress. Baumann family. Her father is a billionaire in real estate and private equity. She's worth more alive than dead."
I draw in a slow breath. That, at least, is something I can sell to my men if they question why I haven’t killed her. If she’sworth something, then a bullet is the foolish choice. I run my tongue along my teeth, considering.
"How much?" I ask Viktor.
He glances at her again. "Her father? He'd pay millions to get her back. Tens of millions, probably."
That works out neatly enough. I can hold her here and send her father a ransom demand, then carry out a clean exchange once payment is received. It's more complicated than just killing her, but the payoff is substantial. And it solves the problem of my men's incompetence in a way that actually benefits the organization.
I look at the two men standing at the door. “Untie her and escort her to one of the guest rooms. Make sure it’s locked and guarded. Then I want you two and whoever else was on this job waiting for me downstairs.”
"But boss—" The younger man starts.
"You think I'm asking?" My voice drops to a lethal quiet. "You think this is a discussion?"
The younger man shuts his mouth. The older one looks thoroughly uneasy, now.Good.
"She's worth money," I continue flatly. "More money than any of you will see in a year. We ransom her back to her father; we make a profit from your fuck-up. This is a strategic decision. A business decision."
Both men swallow hard and nod.
"Move her," I order. "Now."
I stand there while they both jump quickly to follow my commands, going to undo her restraints and pull her up from the chair. She doesn't fight as they help her stand, but I can see the fear spike in her eyes now that she's being moved again. She doesn't know where they're taking her. She looks at me as they guide her toward the door, and I can see that she’s still pale and terrified, but she says nothing. She doesn’t fight, as if she knowsit would be pointless. She lifts her chin, as if trying to summon a tiny bit of defiance, and I fight back the astonishing and startling urge to laugh.
She’s helpless and completely at my mercy, but she doesn’t want me to see her crumple. Once again, I’m struck with a jolt of admiration. There’s steel somewhere under that pretty blonde exterior.
Then she's gone, the door closing behind her and my men.
I stand in my office, alone with Viktor, and feel the weight of the day pressing down on me. The morning's challenges with my men, and now this kidnapping fuck-up. I’d already planned for a ransom for Katya, but this is an unknown quantity, which means I’ll have to come up with a strategy for this woman. It should be easy enough, though. Contact her father, collect the money, and hand her over. Then I can figure out what to do next about the Volkovs, now that my plan has gotten fucked up.
"Why ransom?" Viktor asks quietly. "You could have just had her killed. Cleaner."
I reach up and rub the back of my neck. The tension there has my muscles knotted tight. I need a fucking vacation, but I probably won’t get one until I’m six feet under. If some of the men in this organization have a say, that might be sooner rather than later.
I need this to go well.
"Money is always useful," I say finally. "And this way, the mistake becomes profitable."
Viktor nods, accepting this explanation. “Money is good,” he allows. “Dead, she’s not worth anything. But this was unplanned. And your men don’t seem to fear making mistakes as much as they should.”
“They will.” My jaw clenches as I push away from the desk. “Come with me. We’re going to talk to the men who screwed thisup right now. Call the rest of the men. My lieutenants, security, anyone working for me directly.”
Viktor's expression doesn't change, but I see the understanding in his eyes. "All of them?"
"Da. Time to send a message."
—
The front courtyardis packed when I walk outside. Viktor stands at the center, near the fountain, the three men assigned to this morning’s mission next to him. The younger one that was in my office earlier looks nervous, but the oldest of them is grey-faced, as if he knows what’s coming. He’s been around for a long time; I have a feeling that he does.
The rest of the men stand in a loose formation, talking in low voices, most of them gathered by rank in the organization. I see Alexei, his hand bandaged, talking to a group of younger men. My jaw clenches. After this, he’ll be glad all I did was drive a car key into his hand.
When I get closer, I see that the older man is sweating. It’s hot out, but the look in his eyes tells me it’s not for that reason.
