Cold with horror, I sink to my knees on the floor. Clutching the phone in both of my shaking hands, I whisper, “Please. Please don’t hurt him.”
Capo’s chuckle is soft and dark. “Oops. Too late.”
My groan is a terrified animal’s. “No. Please. I-I have the diamond, I’ll be there soon—”
“With your boyfriend the mercenary? I think not. I understand he has quite close ties with American government agencies that go by three initials. Now listen carefully. A plane is waiting for you at JFK Airport. Go to the Sheltair private jet terminal and tell the gate agent your name. Your real name, please, none of your covert identity nonsense—”
“Capo, please,” I beg, “Reynard had nothing to do with this—”
“Don’t insult my intelligence!” he thunders, his patience snapping like a twig. “I’ve been record
