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“It’s what I do best, Mr. Chalmers.” I return his stare. “It’s been my life for a long time, which is one of the reasons your daughter left me. And I want you to know I respect that. I respect her decision. I’m not searching for Abby to try to talk her into changing her mind and coming back to me.”

I swallow hard on the pain it causes me to even say that. But this isn’t about me, and Abby’s father needs to know the truth. Even if it fucking kills me to admit it. Especially to him.

“I’m going to find Abby because I love her.” I say it simply, straight to his face. “And because I need to know she’s safe. Even if she never wants to see me again.”

I inwardly wince, but I need to get this out. Before I do even more damage by dragging Abby’s father into a world he should have no part of.

“But to find her,” I go on quietly, “I’m going to need to do all the things she didn’t like. Worse, probably. I’ll be going to places, and into situations, where all the rules you know don’t apply. Places where thereareno rules.”

When his grim expression doesn’t change, I bring it home, hard.

“I know that I’m the last man any father would ever want to see their daughter tied up with. But I also know you want to find your daughter, Mr. Chalmers. And whatever else I might be, I am the man who can bring her back to you. I need you to let me do that.”

Pete has stood throughout my little speech without moving his eyes from me at all. There’s a short silence, and I’m not entirely sure whether he’s going to storm off, punch me, or put his rifle in my face. But in the end, all he says is, “Are you done?”

Somewhat at a loss, I nod.

“Good. I’m coming with you. Abby is my daughter. I won’t get in your way. And if you think I’m a stranger to throwing fists or blowing a hole or two in idiots, then you’ve never worked on an Australian cattle station.” He gives me a hard look. “And we can talk about who lets who do what when we’re face-to-face with trouble.”

Oh, for Chrissakes.

Luke interrupts what might have turned into an uglystandoff. “I’ve set it up. Paddy will meet us in Bangkok. There’s a midnight flight out of Perth. If we put pedal to metal, we can just make it.”

I turn back to Abby’s father. “Look, Mr. Chalmers—”

“Don’t bother, mate.” He picks up his bag and strides past me. “And for fuck’s sake, Dimitry, stop calling me Mr. Chalmers. My name’s Pete.”

14

Dimitry

Bangkok, Thailand

It’s midmorning when we land in Bangkok.

“Best not to fuck about.” Paddy, Luke’s old army contact, keeps his chin tucked and cap on as he leads us through the teeming crowds in the airport. “Keep your head down, don’t make eye contact, and you better hope nobody’s expecting you, because Thai immigration leaks worse than a fucking army tent.”

We do as he says all the way through the taxi ride through the Bangkok suburbs. We pull up in a street filled with market stalls and local restaurants, then follow Paddy through a door beside one of them and up a set of stairs to an apartment above the restaurant. It’s basic, just one bedroom, a bathroom, and a basic kitchen, but it’s neat and clean.

Paddy pulls out enough folding chairs to seat us and serves up some cold drinks. “So.” He takes a pull on his soda and eyes Luke. “How much shit are you in?”

Briefly Luke fills him in. Paddy listens, nodding occasionally. He’s lean and wiry, with a face that looks like it’s taken more than its fair share of punches. Like Luke, there’s no ink anywhere on him; the special forces boys keep their skin clean, Luke told me once, to avoid being easily identified if they’re caught behind enemy lines. I catch him studying me out of the corner of his eye a couple of times, but he waits until Luke’s given him a quick rundown before turning to me.

“You’re not going to be able to move in this town without drawing attention,” he says bluntly. “Which, going by the ink on your arms, you should know already.” He frowns at me. “What’s a bratva boy doing in town without connections? Your people own this place. Even the fucking menus are in Russian. If you’ve got trouble, why don’t you call them?”

I avoid Pete’s curious eyes. I’m definitely not about to start explaining the Russian mafia to Abby’s father.

“This is off book,” I say shortly. “I need it to stay that way.”

Paddy sits back in his chair and lights a cigarette. “No chance,” he says amiably. “Or not for long, at least. Your people have eyes everywhere, and the triads have eyes wherever the Russians don’t. Either way, by the sound of it, you’ll have people wanting to talk with you soon enough.”

“Then we need to move fast.” I’m in little mood for a security lecture. “Luke told you there was a contract out on Abby. Do you know anything about it?”

Pete tenses in his chair at the wordcontract, his eyes narrowing as he looks between us.

Tough,I think.You wanted to come. Now you’re going to find out all the things you’d rather not know.

Paddy shrugs. “Nope. Not my line of work, or at least, not on my home turf. Never shit where you eat,” he adds, taking a drink. “I make a living supplying others with what they need, but I stay out of their business.”