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I wait a moment.

"Let's try again," I try again calmly. "Who do you work for?"

The man sobs, shaking his head. I sigh. Disappointed. This is going to take longer than I want it to. It's frustrating because we all know he's going to break. It's just a matter of time. I glance at Brick.

He grins. "Want me to get creative?"

"Not yet." I step closer again. Lower my voice. "You see… I was under the impression this was something else." I tilt my head. "Something bigger."

He's staring at me with a shitload of questions running through his mind. The biggest one is whether this is good or bad for him. I can see it in his eyes. He's wondering,Is it a chance to get out of here alive?

"Someone who's been… irritating me lately. El Recaudador."

I watch him carefully. This time it lands. His entire body goes still. Whatever color he had left drains from his face. His breathing stutters.

"No…" he shakes his head frantically. "No, no, no—I have nothing to do with him."

"Keep your fucking mouth shut," the other guy pipes up.

Before I even have a chance to look at him, Brick has already pulled half of his ear off.

My guy's voice cracks. The fear in his eyes is replaced with something else. Terror. Not the kind I've been pulling out of him. This is different. Deeper. Instinctive. He'd rather face me than be associated with that name. Interesting.

Very fucking interesting. I grab his chin and force him to look at me. "So I'm going to ask you one more time." My voice drops. "Who do you work for?"

"I'll tell you!" he blurts out immediately. "I'll tell you everything—just—just don't say that name again—please?—"

Behind me, Alessio shifts, and Damiano goes still. I don't look at them. But I know they caught it, too. Massimo mentioned a similar reaction from a man he dropped out of a plane somewhere over Arizona. Whatever El Recaudador is building, it's not just power. Its reputation. The kind that makes grown men choose death over being tied to him. I loosen my grip slightly as curiosity gets the better of me.

"Start talking." I lock my hands behind my back at the thought of what these bastards did to Audra. "Who sent you after the woman?"

The other guy decides to make some sounds again. "Shut up, Emmanuel, shut up."

Emmanuel decides to do the opposite. "It wasn't about the woman. She's just… collateral. We—We didn't?—"

My eyes narrow. "What?"

"It was the husband!" he cries. "The husband!"

The room stills. Behind me, the other men listen on with interest.

My grip tightens. "Explain."

"He was looking into accounts—" the man gasps. "Asking questions—too many questions?—"

My jaw locks. "So you kidnapped him."

"Yes—yes?—"

"And her?"

"The bastard wouldn't talk, so… the boss told us to get the wife."

Fucking hell. Talk about what? Pete was a lowlife bank accountant for shit's sake. I run a hand through my hair and look at Mauro, who shakes his head, as clueless as I am. He's been in Phoenix and doesn't know much about Pete and Audra. I kept it on the down-low even when he was home, but as my second, he knows more than the others.

Whatever Pete stumbled into, it must have been coincidental. He wasn't the hero type. Neither was he the type to resist torture. After losing one finger, he would have spilled his guts. Hell at the sight of the pliers, he would have. I nearly laugh, but the sound chokes in my throat when I think of Audra.

My hand clamps around Emmanuel's throat. "You fucking idiots. Amateurs. He didn't know anything. That's why he wasn't fucking talking."