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It takes a second before I realize I haven’t been hit.

“There’s no need for anybody to come looking for me, Jacob.”

My eyes fly open.

Jacey is still sitting in the chair. But he’s not holding a gun anymore. He’s not holding anything at all, because his hand is shredded to ribbons. He’s staring up at the dais, his thin mouth stretched in a strange parody of a smile.

“You disappoint me, Leon,” he says softly. “I had hoped you might run the auction in person.”

In slow motion, my eyes follow his to the dais, where Leon is standing beside Pavel, the gun in his hand trained directly on Jacey.

“But I know how much you enjoy the game, Jacob.” The fury etched in every line of Leon’s face isn’t fresh. It’s old and worn, like metal on a shield that has faced a thousand battles. “And since this will be the last time you ever play, I wanted to make it worth both our time.”

I stare between the two men, trying and failing to make sense of any of this.

“Either you overestimate your own abilities,” Jacey says softly, staring up at Leon, “or the years have led you to underestimate my own.” His unnervingly blank face makes him seem impervious to both his destroyed hand and the gun currently pointing at him. “Either way, I fear you have miscalculated, my friend.”

“The guards outside this room are already dead.” Leon takes a step forward, slate eyes boring into Jacey. “And the rest soon will be.”

Jacey’s eyes narrow slightly. “Impressive,” he says quietly. “But still not enough.”

Leon’s mouth curls. “Zinaida Melikov sends her regards, by the way.”

Zinaida?

The faintest spark of hope flickers to life inside me.

“It’s Zinaida’s team you have to thank for the bodies outside this door.” Leon’s gun points unwaveringly at Jacey. “The guards on your gate apparently don’t see women in evening dress as a threat. A mistake, in this case, given how many of us came in their limousines.”

“Zinaida Melikov.” Jacey’s face hardens. “That bitch is living on borrowed time.”

“If I were you,” Leon says coldly, “I’d be grateful Zinaida is in Thailand, waiting to help the girls you kidnapped, instead of here in my place. We both know that whatever happens to you now is nothing compared to your fate if Zinaida gets her hands on you.”

There is a shout from somewhere beyond the door, and the sudden rattle of gunshot.

“None of this matters.” Jacey sounds suddenly impatient. “Herwomenwill all die here. And you should have known better than to come to me alone, Leon.”

A shadow moves somewhere in my peripheral vision.

“Oh, he didn’t come alone.”

I freeze. The voice coming from behind me is an echo from my past.

From the grave.

“Forgive me, my son.” Juan Cardeñas’s hand comes down to grip Rodrigo’s shoulder, though his gun, like Leon’s, remains trained on the man in the chair. “A necessary deception, I’m afraid.”

Rodrigo stares up at the man behind us, the blood draining from his face.

Jacey’s smile has disappeared entirely. “I commend you,Señor Cardeñas. Not many manage to fake their own death and get away with it.”

“Well, you would know all about that, wouldn’t you, Jacob?” Leon walks slowly toward him. “You’re going to tell me what happened to my wife,” he says coldly. “And then, Jacob Cohen—you’re going to die.”

37

DIMITRY

SK Compound, Myanmar