“She could go to the police. You haven’t paid off every cop in the city. So what then?”

“She’s a smart girl. She’ll know going to the police is a risk.”

Lucas decided to push. “But?”

His paranoia wasn’t unwarranted. Lucas didn’t know Mian. I knew her all too well. “She’s pigheaded like her father. She thinks she’s a fighter.” I could get lost in memories of just how pigheaded my little bandit could be. Back then, I enjoyed pushing her. It was like luring a fish out of water and watching it squirm.

I would show I was merciful by letting her drown in her illusion of safety before doing it all over again.

“So how will we persuade her?”

Mian’s love was possessive. I’ve seen it in how she mourned her mother and loved her father, despite him being undeserving. Fear would make her seek help, but instinct would drive her here instead. She’s a mother. “He’s all the persuasion she needs.”

“My murdervitaedoesn’t include children.” He looked visibly sick. Silently, I shared his sentiment. Of all the bad shit I’d done, stealing a kid was the most fucked up. I told myself it was for the greater good of my family, but what honor can be found among thieves?

“I’ll handle the kid if it comes to that.”

He tilted his head thoughtfully. “And her?”

I held his gaze and spoke only when I trusted my voice would give no reason for doubt. “I vowed on my father’s grave that she’ll suffer.”

Just hours before Mian hadwaved the red flag, I visited my father’s grave for the first time since he was put there.

It seemed fate wasn’t on her side.

The doubt in Lucas’s eyes slowly faded away. He then scratched his chin and looked beyond my shoulder as if recalling something important. “She’s pretty scrappy,” he finally said and then chuckled at the memory. “It may not be as easy as manhandling her into doing what we want.”

“Hence,the kid. We beat her if we have to, but use the kid to persuade her before it comes to that.” A familiar glimmer brightened by the second. Lucas was nothing if not daring. He got off on pushing limits, same as I.

“And if we could persuade her another way?” I glanced across the room where Z dwelled in a corner. He had been quiet until now.

The three of us had shared more women than either of us could count. When one of us was through, if she proved tempting enough, she would find herself in the next brother’s bed. However, Mian was still alive so we could bring her pain, not pleasure. “Fucking her won’t be on the agenda even if she wants it.”

And with one or all of uspersuadingher, there was no doubt she’d want it.

I felt my cock harden and swiftly tent the sweatpants I’d slept in. Of all the women I’ve sampled and devoured, Mian was the only one to make me feel anxious like a horny teen again. She made me vulnerable.

And for that, Ihadto destroy her.

I was thankful for the desk hiding my erection even if I failed to hide my irritation. Lucas was smirking when he said, “We want to know if she means something to you.”

“She’s revenge. She’s the daughter of the man who murdered my father.” I glanced back and forth between the only two men who could challenge me and live to do it again. “Pure and fucking simple.”

He waited a beat before saying, “How many times do you think you’ll need to say that before you start believing it?”

“What else does she need to be?” I questioned coldly.

“For your sake, we hope you never find out,” Lucas answered smoothly. My gaze shifted to Z, and I braced for his two cents, but he remained quiet. He looked as if he was concentrating with a deep frownwrinkling the space between his eyebrows.

When he noticed my attention, his expression slackened into impassiveness. “What are we supposed to do with the kid while we torture his mother?” His swift change in subject wasn’t expected, but I welcomed the opportunity to end the interrogation. “We’re not nannies and hiring one is risky. It could backfire on us.”

His argument wasn’t one that I hadn’t considered before. Outside of Lucas and Z, there wasn’t anyone I trusted. After my father’s death, I was firmly against letting anyone else close. Lucas and Z were left in charge of the men we pay to get their hands dirty—dirt such as kidnapping a baby in broad daylight. Even then, we kept only a few on the books because I trusted no one who hadn’t bled for me or with me.

“I’ve got it covered.”

“How?”

“Milly.” She was my parent’s part-time maid and had been on vacation the night Mian broke in. Whenever she wasn’t cleaning, a silent alarm that rerouted the signal to me instead of the police was activated. Mian had mistaken good luck for fate’s worst hand.