“Tell me about the woman, Delov.” It was an order.
The man didn’t make a sound. His eyes were wild and his heart beat out of control.
“You can die hard or you can just die. It’s up to you.” Timur sounded bored.
“You can’t kill me. I’m just the messenger. That’s the rules. You can’t kill the messenger,” Apostol stuttered.
“We don’t live by the rules,” Timur said. “Lazar knew if you were taken, you would be killed. Why do you think he chose the lowest leopards in the lair for his messengers? He expected you to be caught. I don’t mind taking you apart. I grew up learning those skills. You get used to it. My old man was a master at it. It’s your choice.”
Deliberately, Timur shrugged, but he didn’t take his eyes from his prey. He let Delov see his cat, that murderous leopard who wanted to tear the prisoner from limb to limb. This was the man who had chased their mate and would have marked her for death, although he hadn’t succeeded in marking the door, nor had he sent the address. Kyanite and Rodion had gotten to him first.
“Tell me about her. Why does Lazar want this woman?”
For a moment, it looked as if the prisoner would try to hold out, but when Timur took a step toward him, he changed his mind.
“Her mother was sold at auction to a very wealthy man in Greece. He bought her for his son, just to play with for a time. She was supposed to be given back when the boy was tired of her. She would have come to Lazar’s lair. Lazar had promised her to his lieutenant. The two kids ran off. Lazar vowed to find her and kill both of them.” Apostol stumbled over the explanation he gave it up so fast.
“How did he find them?”
Ashe told Timur her family had lived off the grid, and yet, in spite of that, Apostol had been sent after them, along with a hit team.
A sob escaped, hastily choked back. “The girl, Raisa was her name, wanted to find her sister and help her get out before Lazar ordered her killed. The sister, I think her name was Sarafina, was the wife of Lazar’s lieutenant, given to him because they’d lost the other. Raisa got in touch with Sarafina and her husband found out. They talked about exposing the trafficking pipeline.”
Stupidity. Ashe’s mother hadn’t known the first thing about survival in their world. Her husband had been more cautious, but he should never have allowed his wife to communicate with her sister.
“More information, Delov.” He kept his voice very low, seemingly non-threatening, knowing from a thousand experiences that a low tone would be taken as a threat.
“They had a secret means of talking to each other, a kind of code, but Sarafina’s husband found her diary and tortured her until she told him what it was and how to decipher it. She’s dead now. He beat her to death as a testament of his loyalty to the lair and its leaders.”
“And then Lazar sent you straight to the United States to find them?”
“I need a cigarette. Please. Let me have a cigarette.”
“I don’t allow my men to smoke, nor do I,” Timur said, wishing he did smoke. His leopard would never have stood for it. “You’ll have to do without. Answer the question.”
“Yes, yes. He sent me. I found them and marked their whereabouts for the team. The team missed the daughter.”
“You mean you missed the daughter.”
“Raisa never mentioned her daughter to Sarafina.” There was a whine in the voice. “That wasn’t my fault.”
“And you made certain Lazar knew it wasn’t your fault, didn’t you?” Timur asked, his voice much gentler than before. “You told him about the girl yourself.”
“Yes. I can’t be held accountable if no one knew about her,” Apostol insisted.
“No, only accountable because you all but signed her death warrant by giving her up to Lazar. She wasn’t on his radar and could have gone her entire life without having a gun aimed at her, but you trained it right on her.”
“No. Yes. No. But you see, I had to. If he found out …” Delov squeezed his eyes shut but then couldn’t take the silence stretching out and had to open them again. “I’m just the messenger. I don’t kill anyone.”
“Of course, you do. You bring the hit squad right to the door of Lazar’s victims. First a girl who had been sold into slavery at what age? Fifteen? Sixteen? Younger?”
“Fifteen.” Tears tracked down the messenger’s face.
This was a man who was dangerous. Scary. In spite of what Timur had said about Lazar choosing the lowest leopards, it wasn’t the truth. This man hunted, and he had to be able to defend himself over and over, on his own. What did that make Timur, if Apostol was so terrified now? Timur didn’t want to think too much about that.