“Shh.” Stavros wiped away the tear as it slid down the quivering woman’s cheek. “You did good.” He smiled and she shrank back. That made him smile wider. “Very good.”

“Don’t kill me,” she sobbed.

“Well, I make no promises,” he told her. “It all depends on your son, really.” A lock of her gray hair had escaped her loose bun so he twirled it around his finger before tucking it behind her ear.

“You-You’re a friend of my Toro?” Tears shimmered in her eyes and when she blinked, it dropped, sliding once again down her cheek creased with age. She was a good-looking woman, plump and smelling like warmth and welcome.

“Friend is a strong word.” He left it at that.

He’d barged into her modest house, just Bruce and him, over an hour ago. The rest of his men watched the exterior of the house, keeping a lookout for her son. He’d been surprised to find out that Daniel had a nephew. Toro wasn’t officially a Nieto, but he had that crazy Nieto blood coursing through his veins.

That was the only requirement needed.

“You won’t hurt him, will you?”

He liked her. Tied to one of her living room chairs, she still glared at him with fire in her wet eyes.

“Again,” he told her. “It all depends on how cooperative your Toro turns out to be.” He hadn’t hurt her. They’d only scared her when she’d returned home. Bruce kept his balaclava on, Stavros choosing to show his face.

“Does your mamá know what you’re doing?”

He pulled up a chair and sat opposite her. “I didn’t have a mother,” he said while Bruce stood over in the corner, all silent and imposing. “She died giving birth to me.”

She watched him warily. “Is that why you’re doing this? Because you didn’t have a mother to teach you right from wrong?”

He barked a laugh. “Oh no. I just like doing this.”

“I’ll pray for your soul.”

He cocked his head. “I don’t have one, but I thank you all the same.” He touched his knuckles to her cheek. “I can see your love for your son,” he murmured. “I think I might be envious of it.”

Bruce’s phone went off and he shifted in the shadows. “He has arrived.”

“Come.” He peeled off a piece of the tape in his hand.

“No. No.” She twisted her side to side, but Bruce stepped forward, holding her steady so Stavros could tape her mouth.

She sobbed, the sound muffled by the tape.

“Shh.” He nodded to Bruce who bodily lifted her and carried her to the back room.

Keys jiggled in the lock then a second later a man in a black hooded sweatshirt and dark jeans entered.

“Mamá, I’m home.” He closed the door behind him.

“Hello, there.”

The newcomer spun, gun appearing in his hand. “Who are— Shit.” His eyes went wide when he spotted Stavros.

“Toro, yes?”

“Where’s my mother?” He lurched forward, grabbing Stavros by the front of his shirt. “Where is she?”

“Now. Now.” Stavros didn’t pull his weapon. He didn’t need it, not when he owned the upper hand. “Your mother—lovely woman, by the way—is somewhere close. Alive,” he said quickly. “But not if you decide to pull that trigger.”

Toro’s nostrils flared and he glared at Stavros. “I want to see her.”

“Em, nope.”

Toro swore and pushed Stavros away hard enough that he staggered. “What do you want?”

“You look like him, you know,” Stavros said softly. “It’s not too obvious, but in the eyes.” He touched a finger to the corner of his own left eye. “You look like Daniel.”

Toro watched him as if he’d lost his mind. “Killing his wife wasn’t enough? You plan to kill another one of his family members?”

“Not sure if you notice, but we’re in something of a war, your uncle and I,” Stavros told him. “And it is expected there will be collateral damage.”

Toro scoffed. “You don’t really think you’ll win this, do you? You’re crazier than I thought if you do.”

“Depends on your definition of winning.” He winked. “Right now, I just need you to come with me.” The men from outside entered the room via the backdoor, and Toro’s jaw tightened when he spotted them.

“My mother—”

“Oh, don’t you worry.” He smiled just as one of the men plunged a needle into Toro’s neck. “She’s coming too.”

Didn’t take long to get from El Paso to Seattle. Not when you had your own jet and were on a mission. He rolled with a small crew and holed up in a hotel room making phone calls.

He couldn’t just drop in on the fly, he needed a plan. So he formulated one using the information at his disposal. It exhilarated him, got him high enough to fly. For the longest time he’d been living for his father, for Annika, for the business. Now that he’d handed over the day to day running to his uncle, he had more free time to do shit like poke at Daniel Nieto until the man erupted.

Stavros wanted to be on his knees to taste it.

“Are you sure about this?” his uncle asked when Stavros checked in on him.

“Naí.” Yes. “I am.” He sat in the back of the rented sedan driving to his destination with the phone at his ear, Bruce next to him with a possessive hand on Stavros’ thigh.

“It’s a line you can’t uncross,” Christophe pointed out. “You think you’ve made him angry before, but this…” He hesitated. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Stay at the penthouse, theíos. I’ve got this.” He hung up and stared out the window at the damp city. He’d stashed his uncle at his place. Stavros didn’t want blowback on his actions to land on Christophe. Which was fucked up considering what he’d done the past few days, and what he was on his way to do right this second.

But nobody ever said he wasn’t hypocritical as fuck.

“We’re here, sir.”

Stavros leaned forward. “You know the plan.” He got out, walked up to the building, and went inside.

It was a small office, with dark gray carpet and green walls. He scrunched his nose up at that. The woman behind the desk—African-American, with boxed braids pulled into a ponytail and thick red-framed glasses—glanced up as he strode in.

“Hello.” Her smile was big and toothy, and so damn bright he found himself returning it. “You have an appointment?”

“I do.” He glanced at the round-faced clock on the far wall. “And look at that, just on time.” He winked and she giggled, lashes fluttering. Women. Fuck, but he loved them.

Bruce walked past him and up to her desk, and from where he stood, Stavros watched the woman’s eyes widen just the tiniest bit.

“Ceptember, right?” he addressed her. “With a C?” She’d spelled it out for him over the phone earlier.

She nodded, gaze jumping from him to Bruce and back. Good girl, understanding where the threat really resided.

“Ceptember, I’m gonna need you to scream for me.”

Bruce brought the gun up, placed it gently at her temple, and she flinched backward with a scream. A nice, loud, hair-raising scream.

Her boss came running out of his office. “Cept—” He skidded to a halt, the blue folder in his hand dropping unnoticed to the floor. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Levi Nieto, I presume?” Stavros didn’t wait for him to answer, he went to the accountant staring at him with the angry eyes. Nieto eyes. “You move and she dies. You speak above a whisper, and she dies.”

To his credit, Levi stood his ground, and although he swallowed hard, his voice was steady when he spoke. “Do you know what you’ve done?”

“I do.” Stavros went through Levi’s pockets, removing his phone and wallet. He placed them on Ceptember’s desk. “I’m Stavros Konstantinou, and your brother and I, we’ve got unfinished business.”

By the ticking in his jaw, Levi recognized Stavros’ name. “Shouldn’t you be taking that up with him?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” He picked up Levi’s phone and handed it to Ceptember. “Please call Donovan Cintron, tell him Stavros has his husband. Let’s go.” He motioned for Levi to precede him out the door, but the other man didn’t move.

“I’m not leaving.”

“Well, that’s fucking selfish. I could have killed you, Levi. And your son. And that crazy husband of yours. But I’m simply borrowing you. So please…” He pointed to the door again. “Start walking, otherwise Bruce here will start shooting, and he won’t stop at the gorgeous Ceptember.” He winked at the receptionist whose stare remained on him.

She tore her gaze away, and he chuckled.

“Daniel will kill you.” Levi’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t even know what Van will do to you.”

“You let me handle your brother, and as far as your husband, I’m sure I know some ways to neutralize him.” He pushed Levi between the shoulder blades, propelling him to the door. The younger man went, grudgingly.

If only all of Stavros’ kidnappings went as smoothly as this.

“Make the call, Ceptember,” he called over his shoulder. They exited the building without incident, and he had Levi in the back seat of the vehicle in no time. “Let’s go.”

“You killed my brother’s wife.” Levi watched him closely, as though searching for something.

“I did.” He nodded.

“Are you proud of it, what you did? You destroyed him.”

“It was a job. I did a job. It wasn’t personal.”

“Maybe not then,” Levi said. “But now you’re deliberately making it personal.” He cocked his head. “Why?”

“I sent somebody to kill your husband once,” Stavros said instead.

Levi blanched.

“Obviously good help remains hard to find, since Donovan is still alive.” He touched Levi’s chin. “You want something done correctly, you do it yourself. Am I right?”

“You could just tell him,” Levi murmured.

Stavros stared at him blankly.

“You could just tell him how you feel.”

He ignored that. Worst advice ever.

They remained silent on the rest of the drive to the hotel, and once they were in Stavros’ room, he instructed the men, “Everyone leave. Bruce stays.”

“But, sir—”

“Not up for debate.” He crooked his finger at Levi who’d taken a seat on one of the loveseats. He didn’t look too worried. Maybe if he had a cartel kingpin for a brother and a former FBI agent with dubious morals for a husband, Stavros would feel the same way, too. “This way, please.”

He directed Levi to the adjoining door, connecting with the next room. He’d reserved the entire hotel floor, just to be on the safe side. In the room next door, Toro and his mother sat, hands and feet tied with rope, tapes over their mouth and dark hoods over their heads.

Levi stopped short when he spied them. “What the fuck?” He spun, glaring at Stavros who shrugged.

“You’re not my only captive.” He shoved the incredulous man into a chair. “I’m gonna tie you up now.”

And he did, while Levi watched with an open mouth. Good for him that he didn’t fight. Stavros didn’t want to actually hurt him. Once the ropes around Levi’s wrist and ankles were secure, Stavros stood.

“There, now you can get to know your nephew a little bit better.”

Levi’s eyes bulged. “What?” He jerked his head to the two hooded figures next to him. “Nephew?”

“Oh, forgive me.” He yanked the hood off Toro’s head, and the youngest Nieto blinked rapidly before glaring up at him. “Toro, meet Levi, your uncle. Levi, this is Toro, Antonio Nieto’s bastard son.” He left the room while the men gaped at each other.

Bruce waited for him, concern etched on his pale face. “Are you ready for this?”

Fuck, he’d been ready since the first step he took outside the room Daniel kept him in. “Yes.”