Viktor stepped over to Tyler. The blood on his fists was evidence that he’d hit Tyler, too. “Now, maybe you’ll talk.”
Tyler held Viktor’s gaze but didn’t speak.
After about five seconds, Viktor threw a left cross, hitting Tyler in the eye. Her rescuer pulled away. A line of blood trickled from the cut in his eyebrow caused by Viktor’s ring. “Where is my son?”
“Long gone.” Tyler coughed.
“That’s bad news for you.”
Tyler struggledto breathe past the agony in his body. Sharp pain shot through his broken ribs. The vest might have saved his life, but it didn’t prevent injuries from getting hit by the SUV. The ache in his head worsened with every blow Viktor and his guys dealt. Blood from the fresh cut on his eyebrow dripped down the side of his face and almost into his eye.
Viktor paced a couple of steps in front of him.
With the Croatian’s gaze on the floor, Tyler worked at the ropes tying his hands behind the chair. His wrists were already raw from the constant rubbing, but the ropes had loosened. Another twist of his left wrist made the coarse texture tear at his skin again. He bit back a grunt at the pain.
The Croatian mobster faced him again, forcing him to stop. “Perhaps your people will want to make a trade for you.”
“I doubt it.” They had to complete the mission, which meant they had to rescue Elara. Not him. Koen wanted his daughter back. But Von wouldn’t trade the kid for Elara either, so they needed another way.
“You’re not close with Yvonne Khatri?”
Tyler’s muscles tensed, despite his effort to stop them. The Croatian knew of Von and her team. Not good. He might have their location too, and no doubt he’d retaliate. Von needed to get out before that happened, and forget about that house. Their lives were more important.
“I had my people check through records, and she doesn’t seem to have you on her payroll.”
No. Von didn’t. Koen was paying him. Looking back, that was a good decision not to get tied to the team. The mobster now didn’t have any intel on him.
“You just appeared out of nowhere. Like a ghost.” Viktor frowned. “No ID on you. Nothing to identify you. Even my woman won’t tell me your name.” He glared at Elara.
Elara hugged herself, avoiding Viktor’s dark eyes. She was smart. She knew not to identify him. When her gaze met Tyler’s, he gave her a nod.
Viktor faced Tyler. “Where did Yvonne take my son?”
“To Australia,” Elara whispered.
“No. She could not fly him there directly. Did she go back to Dubrovnik?” Viktor stepped toward Elara. He probably figured Tyler wouldn’t talk.
“I don’t know.”
Viktor slapped her.
“Hey!” Tyler couldn’t keep quiet and let her get hurt. He pulled at the ropes again. How was he supposed to get them out of here? They’d taken his weapons and beaten him up—with their fists and their vehicle.
The Croatian turned back to him. “You don’t want me to hurt her.”
Tyler clenched his jaw. He had to be careful what he said.
“You better talk then.” Viktor’s hand drifted to the Beretta holstered at his waist.
After taking a painful deep breath, Tyler said, “It’s over. You lost.”
Viktor sneered. “Ghost from Australia, I don’t lose.”
His finding out Tyler’s home country was the least of Tyler’s concerns. No one knew where he lived. Only Koen. “The boy is gone. Itold them to take him and leave.” He braced himself for what Viktor might do. The Croatian had little patience.
In a split second, cold metal pressed into Tyler’s forehead. He didn’t flinch. The Croatian might have been a little trigger happy and any movement might force Elara to remain trapped with the mobster.
“You should have stayed in Australia, ghost.”