“What did he take? I’ll have my men retrieve it,” Diego noted as I approached my limo.
My driver opened the door and I ambled in. “El Diablo Hotel. Now!” I barked. “A child. Eden. Approximately three years of age. She belongs to my fiancée.”
“He kidnapped a child from its mother?” Diego snarled .
Diego had a few children of his own and wouldn’t take kindly to a man separating a child from her family.
“Actually he stole her from her bed in the night, then accosted her grandfather who is currently being treated at the hospital.”
“How bloody do you want this?” Diego asked flat-out, direct and to the point. “My men can make it filthy, ese.”
As much as I wanted Aiden to suffer, and to do so in a way he’d never think twice about harming Faith ever again, I would much prefer to dole out his punishment in a way that lasted years, not hours or days. I knew Diego and his henchmen could, would, and had done horrifying things. I did not have a problem with the way they doled out justice, but the American legal system did. And frankly, I’d rather ruin him by destroying everything he loved most.
His money. His hotel. His reputation.
“Hurt, but not killed. I want him to taste the retribution I have planned. But I need the child delivered to me in my limo in the front of the hotel as soon as possible. I don’t care what you have to do to make that happen. Get me the girl, unharmed, and we’re even. I’m calling all my markers on this one.”
“Nah, amigo. This one I’ll take care of for one marker. You are owed a favor per life saved. Tres vidas. Tres favores.” Three lives. Three favors. “I have men close to his hotel and paid contacts inside. My guys will bring the child. I’ll call when she’s in our care,” he said and abruptly hung up.
My phone rang seconds after. I noted it was Alan, one of the guards I’d left with Faith.
I groaned. Faith was not going to comply with my request to stay out of it. The woman wasn’t used to having anyone to trust or lean on outside of her father. All of that would change now that she was my fiancée. Bringing back her niece safely would go a long way toward securing her trust and loyalty.
“What is it? ”
“I overheard a phone call she made. She plans on trading herself for the child as you suspected,” Alan whispered.
“Of course she does. Just keep an eye on her. She’ll try to escape your protection. Let her think she has, but stay on her.”
“Got it. I’ll keep you posted.” Alan ended the call.
I inhaled fully, letting out a long, frustrated breath. We should have been on my jet right now, having a lovely brunch together. I’d wanted to get to know the child a bit prior to introducing her to my daughter, Penelope. Now I feared she’d be closed-off and scared, clinging to her aunt after dealing with such a harrowing experience at such a tender age. It made me want to call Diego back and tell him to do his worst. Alas, I’d get my revenge on Faith’s behalf. The man deserved a lot worse than a quick death at the hands of strangers. When that piece of scum took his last breath, he’d do so knowing that he deserved every last minute of misery. And that it was given to him because he’d abused and tortured a beautiful young woman whose only mistake was loving the wrong man.
Death was too easy for the likes of Aiden Bradford.
We rolled up to El Diablo, the huge hotel that boasted all kinds of sinful, hedonistic activities and catered to couples or singles wanting to partake of such debauched offerings. I wasn’t one to judge, as I charged incredibly high prices for the ultimate luxury experience, but there was something slimy and gritty about the business Bradford ran. It was as though the stench and rot of his location clung to the surface of one’s skin when leaving his resort.
“Will you be exiting the vehicle?” Carlo, my right-hand man, driver, advisor, and everything in between, asked.
I shook my head. “We wait for Diego’s men… Ah, there they are now,” I smiled wickedly as I watched six rough-looking men approach the lobby entrance of the hotel. Two wore impeccable, tailored black suits while the others looked like they’d just gotten out of prison. Tattoos covered their faces, arms, necks, hands, and anything that wasn’t covered by cl othing. One carried a metal bat over his shoulder as he whistled a tune. Another had an assault rifle hanging down the center of his back, clearly visible to the public. They simply didn’t care. The Latin Mafia was not to be messed with. If you lived in Vegas, you were aware of this information. Which was proven immediately when two of the hotel’s security guys backed up and walked away at first sight.