Felipe Guzmán had the oiliest smile Stavros had ever seen on a human being, and he had to actively keep from punching the man in the face when he turned that fucked up gesture in his direction.

They sat poolside at Stavros’ rooftop pool, both of them flanked by their men. Felipe didn’t hesitate when Stavros placed the call to set up a meet, nor did he put up a fight when Stavros offered his own place for the occasion.

Men like Felipe, Stavros understood them. His father had been a man like that, and while he’d loved his father, rarely did Stavros ever like him. He had no such familial bond with the man who sat opposite him now, legs crossed at the ankles, sipping on Stavros’ twenty-year old cognac.

“Didn’t think I’d hear from you again, Konstantinou.” Felipe watched him over the rim of his glass. “I made other arrangements.”

“Did you?” Stavros brought his gaze to the skyline over in the distance, steadily stirring the drink in his hand. “That’s a shame.”

“I’m sure I can find some other way you can make up for what you took from my family.”

Stavros bit back the chuckle. Nothing the clueless bastard came up with could ever come close to the loss of Daniel. Too bad Felipe wouldn’t get the chance to try. “Why do you want Daniel dead so badly?”

“I never wanted him with Petra.”

Her name landed like a kick to the face, but Stavros shook off the blow and returned his gaze to Felipe.

“He took her away from us, her family. Isolated her, and led her to her death.” With each word Felipe spoke, his voice got louder, his face redder. “Now, he wants to come back and take even more from me.”

Stavros cocked his head. “He wants back into the business?” He hadn’t expected that, but he should have. Daniel grew up in that life. Made sense he’d want to go back to it.

“He wants what’s mine.” Felipe pounded his chest, spilling the expensive-ass whisky. “That will not happen.”

“So you put a bounty out on him.”

“You were taking too long to bring me his head.”

“Of course.” Stavros inclined his head. “My apologies.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly in an attempt to rein in his temper. “Let’s talk business.”

“Lets.”

“Cancel the hit on Daniel, and I’ll do it myself. Free of charge.”

Felipe laughed, a big roiling sound that made his entire body quiver. “You’re too late.” He tossed back the last of his drink and slammed the glass down on the table between them. “Besides, I already paid your cost with my sister’s blood.”

Fingers tight around his glass, Stavros pursed his lips. He’d been going for civilized. Trying to keep his emotions out of it. But that wasn’t going to work. Felipe Guzman was a threat.

To Daniel.

To Stavros.

“I’d hoped you’d be reasonable.” He got to his feet, the near empty bottle of liquor in his grip. As Felipe gazed up at him with narrowed eyes, Stavros smashed the bottle against the table. He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Stavros struck. Stabbing him in the throat with the jagged glass.

Blood spurted.

Felipe’s eyes went wide and he jerked, grasping at his throat as blood flowed.

“Just because my guns have been checked at the door doesn’t mean I’m not still armed.” This, he didn’t mind this. Behind him, a shout went up then a few soft pfft pffts sounded as his man handled Felipe’s two bodyguards.

Arrogance would lead a man like Felipe to think himself untouchable. Arrogance would make him walk into Stavros’ lair without fucking head-to-toe armor. Arrogance kept Stavros in business.

He waited beside Felipe as the man gurgled his last breaths away then Stavros turned to Bruce. “I want his head.” He stepped over the bodies of Felipe’s fallen guards and headed downstairs to shower and change.

He had a meeting to get to.

* * *

“Mr. Konstantinou, you called?”

Stavros closed his eyes briefly as Syren slid into the chair opposite him. He’d arranged for their meeting to take place in neutral territory. A restaurant about a dozen blocks from his place.

He had to give it to Syren, the man was prompt. And per usual, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit. This one—vest and pants—charcoal gray. The shirt was a subtle black and white pattern, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Before either of them could speak again, their waiter appeared. Stavros ordered a scotch. Syren opted for water. Stavros waved the waiter off then refocused on Syren.

The other man smiled at him. “Something you need?”

Obviously. Otherwise they wouldn’t be where they were. “Where is he?”

One of Syren’s eyebrows shot up. “Who?”

“I’m not in the mood for games.” Stavros leaned forward. “There’s a bounty on his head, did you know that?”

“You dealt with Guzmán so now you plan on tossing your hat into the ring?” Syren sipped his water, seemingly unconcerned.

Stavros narrowed his eyes. “You already know?” That happened two hours ago, for fuck’s sake.

“Not a lot happens in the criminal underworld that I’m not aware of.” Syren smiled at him slowly. “Feel free to test that theory.”

“Does he know?”

Syren shrugged. “He’s…busy at the moment.”

Fuck. Stavros curled his fists, nails biting into his palm. “Is he all right?” He had to be. He was Daniel fucking Nieto. Hard to kill. But the fear inside Stavros sat cold and heavy on his chest.

“You think he can’t handle himself?”

Stavros grasped either sides of the table with both hands and lurched forward. “I know there’s a fucking bounty on his head, and if anything happens to him there will be hell to pay.”

Syren watched him, his unusually colored eyes giving nothing away. “Relax. Our mutual friend has it covered.”

Relax. Fucking relax?

He’d heard things about the man seated opposite him, but Stavros had never paid them much credence. After the way Syren had stolen him away from Daniel’s captivity, and the many ways in which he kept popping up like a bad penny, maybe the question should be asked… “Who are you? Really?”

“Who am I really?” Syren smiled. “I’m the kind of bullet you want in your gun.”

There was nothing sinister about him, yet that in itself was ominous. Stavros sat back, gaze narrowed as he tried to figure out Syren’s play. “You’ve made yourself indispensable to whole lot of powerful men, making you even more powerful than they are.” He could respect that. Ruthlessness was a talent he felt should always be nurtured.

“Does it make you want to come after me? You want that power for yourself?” Syren cocked his head, one eyebrow raised. Nonchalant. Cool as a fan. “My family, the one I’d die for? My family is made up of some of the most dangerous men you’ve never heard of. I’m seven killers deep.” He grinned, flipping a strand of white-blond hair from his forehead. “If you survive them, which I know you won’t, you get to tangle with me.” He shook his head, an almost pitying expression flitting across his pretty face. “No one wants to tangle with me, especially not you.”

Stavros grinned. He might actually like this man. “I like a challenge, and death isn’t something that scares me. You bring your killers, and I bring mine. Any time.”

Syren nodded. “What do you want?”

“I want Daniel’s location.”

“Last I heard, you two had a mutual parting of ways.” Syren’s gaze scanned the room before coming back to Stavros. “Can’t take no for an answer?”

“No.”

“Good man.” Syren’s teeth appeared then he sobered. “You want something. I want something. We should do business.”

Stavros held his gaze over the rim of his glass. “Name your price.”

“Renzo Vega is off limits.”

“That’s not up for discussion.” He had plans for Renzo Vega, and they’d been set in motion.

“Wrong.” This time Syren was the one to lean forward. “It is the only thing up for discussion. You want Daniel, you back away from Renzo.”

The liquor slid down Stavros’ throat, smoky smooth. He savored that touch as he watched Syren. “Renzo Vega is your price?” The club owner’s worth tripled immediately.

“Choose. Power or love. Daniel or Renzo. You can’t have both,” Syren told him. “There’s no space in your life for both, so choose.” He licked his lips. “And if for some stupidly self-destructive reason you choose Renzo, I will personally make it so you have neither one.”

Stavros chuckled. “Interesting.” He looked up from the swirling liquid in his glass. “Who is Renzo Vega to you?”

Syren’s purple eyes flashed. “Renzo is my business. Daniel is yours.” He smirked. “Unless you’re still in denial. In which case, snap out of it already.”

Stavros tossed back the last of his drink then pushed his chair back and stood. On his way to the exit, he stopped next to Syren. “Any price you named…” He shoved his hands into his coat pockets. “I would have paid it. Anything you wanted, I would have given it.”

Syren tilted his head back, exposing his throat. “I know.”