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“So,” he says sullenly. “I’m here at your invitation, and with minimal security, as requested. Talk.”

“Please,” Leon says, gesturing at the outdoor furniture. “Sit.”

We do. Dao serves tea and politely withdraws.

“I know you,” Rodrigo says abruptly, glaring at Leon over his tea. “We met in Bangkok once. With my father.”

“We did.” Leon inclines his head. “At Sotheby’s. Juan and I bid on the same piece.” He smiles coolly. “Your father lost, as I recall.”

Rodrigo’s eyes narrow. He looks between the three of us. “What is going on here?”

Leon places a laptop on the table and turns it around toface Rodrigo. “You will receive this invitation in an email later today.”

Rodrigo barely glances at the screen. “I’m not exactly in the market for art,” he says curtly.

Dimitry interrupts, his voice flat and cold. “I really don’t give a fuck what you’re in the market for.” He taps the image on-screen, of a golden Fabergé egg featuring peacock feather layers on the outer shell. “You’re going to accept the invitation. You’re also going to suggest, in the encrypted group chat, that the auction be held at the SK compound in Myanmar. A week from today, you and Abby will attend the auction there together.”

Rodrigo gives him an incredulous look. “In case you weren’t listening earlier,” he says sarcastically, “the owner of that compound is just a few awkward questions away from sending his killers for me, not to mention your girlfriend. Hosting an auction with us both in attendance is unlikely to be a priority for him.”

Although his hands are as smoothly manicured as ever, I can still see the raw patches on his knuckles from the frenzy of blows he rained down on me a few days ago.

He’ll have more scrapes on those knuckles soon enough.

I haven’t mentioned that part to Dimitry, and I don’t plan to. But I can’t go back to SK with faded bruises. Not if this is going to work.

They’ll need to be fresh.

I shiver and try to push the thought from my mind.

“It’s your job to make that auction a priority,” Dimitry is saying coldly. “And to suggest that it be held at the SK compound.”

Rodrigo’s eyes narrow. “And why the fuck would I do that?”

“Because,” Dimitry snaps, “in a few hours, you and Abby will fly to Myanmar so you can deliver her back into captivity.You are going to tell your host that you had such agood time,” he continues in a scathing voice, “that you want to repeat it. This time, you’d like the added thrill of bidding for, and winning, a very valuable piece of art—while Abby watches you do it.”

His disgust is palpable.

“If your host, or his minions, question your absence this week, you will say that after a man was seen asking about Abby in a Bangkok bar, a bomb went off nearby. You had some security concerns. Since you wished to enjoy yourgood timewithout interruption, you shifted the party to a private location.”

I don’t miss his contemptuous inflection,and by Rodrigo’s suddenly hard expression, neither does he.

“You’re giving a lot of orders for a hired gun,muchacho.” Sitting back in his chair, he lights a cigarette and eyes Dimitry narrowly through the swirling smoke, his eyes lingering on the ink visible above his shirt. “The bratva may tolerate subordinates giving orders, but in Colombia, the boss does not bow to the soldier.”

“Then it’s fortunate,” Dimitry says coldly, “that I no longer belong to a bratva clan and that neither of us are in Colombia.” He leans forward, hands clasped loosely between his legs, pinning Rodrigo with a hard slate glare. “I’m thehired gunwho is going to kill the man who murdered your father,” he says quietly. “I’m telling you how that is going to happen. You can agree to work with me—or you can die, here, on this patio.”

There’s a sudden rush of movement as the men behind Rodrigo pull out their guns, aiming them at us.

Dimitry doesn’t move.

Nor does Leon.

I’m too terrified to breathe, let alone move.

“Those are very dangerous words,muchacho,” Rodrigo says softly.

“Oh, I don’t think so.” Dimitry’s smile is chilling. He holds up a black remote control that looks like a gaming stick. “This entire patio is wired to blow. Shoot me, and you’re dead before you move a foot.”

Rodrigo sneers, his eyes shifting to me. “You wouldn’t kill your girlfriend.”