“Give it to someone they fear. I have ideas on that, of course.”
“Yes, fear is your favorite emotion,” I say dryly, still admittedly bitter at his faked death and reappearance. “If you don’t know who this organization is, how do you know what they fear?”
“You fight organized crime with organized crime. Pit them against each other, step back, and let them go to war and kill themselves off. But we have to find the package. The seller doesn’t stop wanting it because one buyer is dead. He'll find another.”
“We know we need the package. How do you suggest we find it?”
“The only chance we have of figuring that out is to become a buyer which just got easier if you’re telling me they killed off the buyer to keep you from picking their brain. We need to attract the seller, convince them we have money, and intent to buy. That would be easier to do if we knew what was in the package. Bottom line, you need to trust me for me to help you.”
“Just trust you?” I say and lean in closer. “You held a gun to my head, Kurt.”
“You know I wasn’t going to hurt you.”
But that’s the point, he doesn’t understand. I knew Luke would never hurt me. I knew Luke would never have killed Kasey had he had any other option. Grief destroys people and relationships. You see it all the time. A couple loses a child and then they lose each other. I almost killed Luke. That thought has me flashing back to that day in the cemetery when Luke stepped out from behind the tree. I should have run to him. I should have held onto him. I will not lose him now because I too easily trust Kurt.