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“Taking itwell?” He cocks an eyebrow at me. “We might be in Thailand, instead of Europe or the US. But being chased by dangerous criminals?” He shakes his head, looking mildly amused. “That’s hardly unusual—that’s just another fucking Tuesday.”

I laugh softly. “I guess.”

“But I’m definitely glad you’re finally talking about it.” Dimitry’s eyes become more serious. “That’s the first step. Now it’s just a process.”

“A process?” My smile falters. “What do you mean? As in the process of getting out of Thailand?”

“No.” His face hardens. “I mean the process by which I destroy the fuckers who are chasing us.”

My mouth goes dry, my heart galloping like a runaway horse.

“You said it yourself, Skip.” Dimitry meets my eyes squarely, his voice calm but certain. “Neither Rodrigo or Mr. Kingpin are going to stop coming for you. If anything, they’ll be coming harder than they ever have. Which means they need to die.”

I stare at him in horror. “You can’t.” I can barely speak. “I told you. Not even Roman can match these people—”

“Roman won’t be involved.” He cuts me off, his smile disappearing. “There’s no chance of that, Abby.” He turns away, staring back out over the water and lighting a cigarette.

I stare at his hunched shoulders and stiff stance. The change from his open half smile of barely moments ago couldn’t be more profound. This Dimitry is braced against the world and as shuttered closed as a fucking hurricane cellar.

“Dimitry.” I know better than to try to approach him. “You said that Roman is no longer a factor in your decisions. But you haven’t told me what happened between the two of you.”

“It doesn’t matter.” His answer is flat and hard. “The only thing relevant to this discussion is that Roman isn’t part of it. Nor is he going to be part of it. Mak, either, before you ask.”

I stare at his back, feeling a dull helplessness rise through me. “Then what do you plan to do, exactly? Storm the SK compound with Luke and that mad Irish bloke? Just the three of you against the most dangerous criminal organizations in South East Asia?”

“Luke’s back in Australia with your parents. And Paddy will be lying low for a bit, after what went down in Bangkok. He mentioned he’d probably be getting out of town for a while.” Dimitry half turns, meeting my eyes with a twisted, hard smile. “I’m afraid it’s an army of one, Skip. That’s all it’s likely to be from now on, too.”

I watch him, suddenly aware that he’s talking about more than what we’re currently facing. I can see the unspoken darkness lurking behind his eyes, the white scar down his face gleaming as his jaw tenses.

“I thought we agreed last night that we’re in this together.” I stand up and walk across to the railing, facing him. “Or was that just hot talk to get me into bed, muscle boy?” Despite the words, there’s nothing casual in my tone, and Dimitry doesn’t smile.

“We did.” He crushes out his cigarette. “But we also talkedabout choices. Which means that you should probably know the consequences of the choices I’ve made lately, since they might affect the ones you make next.”

I put a tentative hand on his arm. “Dimitry, nothing is going to affect how I feel—”

“You don’t know that.” He removes my hand and steps out of touching range. “Look, Abby. I’ve been part of the Stevanovsky organization my entire life. Now I’m not. Regardless of what happens between me and Roman in the future, that’s unlikely to change. Which means that my circumstances are going to be... different than when you knew me before.”

“Different?” I watch him, unsure of what he’s trying to say.

“Christ.” He grimaces, his hand unconsciously rubbing the scar on his cheek. “I’ve got money, Skip. But not Stevanovsky money. Not the kind that can buy armies and penthouses.” He shrugs. “I never really thought about it before. Never needed to. But before this goes any further, I need to be honest about where I’m at.” He holds my eyes. “I’ve got a decent amount saved and invested. Enough to look after us both comfortably. But when we make it out of this, I have no fucking idea what’s next.” He shrugs. “I live in an apartment Roman owns. Drive a car leased to his company. I’ve never given much of a fuck about money beyond having enough of it to do whatever I please. I guess I never really had to think about it.” He pauses, looking out over the water.

“Until now,” I say slowly. “Until me. And all of... this.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He steps toward me, then stops abruptly. “None of this is your fault, Abby. It’s mine. The break with Roman would have happened sooner or later. Maybe I already knew that, long before you ever put it into words. I just didn’t want see it. And none of it changes how I feel about you or how I’m going to approach this situation. I just need you to know the truth, is all.”

“I see.” I take a step toward him. “But now you’re worried that I might not like Dimitry two-point-oh, the version without the black credit card and a soulless apartment I hated anyway?”

Dimitry gives a low laugh. “You really did hate that place, didn’t you? I don’t think you ever spent a night in it.”

“Millennial gray decoration, windows that don’t open, and a fridge with nothing but vodka, beer, and old pizza?” I roll my eyes. “What’s to like?”

His apartment was in one of Roman’s Hale Property developments in downtown Malaga. Despite being on the top floor, with a view over the entire city, I’d taken one look and insisted we decamp to my tiny one-bedroom walk-up, even though it was in a much rougher part of town.

“And don’t try to tell me you loved that place either,” I say, moving closer, shivering with delight as his arms come around me. “You spent every night at mine.”

Dimitry laughs low in his throat. “Not that your fridge was any better stocked, Skip. I seem to recall that your rarely had anything more than a round of cheese and several half-finished bottles of wine.”

I laugh too, but not without a tinge of sadness. “I loved that place, you know.” I touch his face. “I think my time there with you is the happiest I’ve ever been, if I’m honest.”