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Play the victim, Abby. And hope like hell he’s here to help you, not hand you to Jacey.

“Some of your old friends from Colombia are currently in Bangkok,” Rodrigo says. “My men. My father made them pay dearly after you stole from us, and they’reverykeen to meet you again, Abby.” He smiles unpleasantly. “Unfortunately, they could not accompany me here, which means that I must take you,cariño, to them.”

“Wait.” The triad guard looks uneasy. “This—I am sorry, but it is not possible.”

“Not possible?” Rodrigo stares at the man like he’s a cockroach. “Who the fuck are you to tell me what is and isn’t possible? I thought she was agift.” He glares at the guard. “I don’t know how gifts work in your country, but in mine, the giver does not dictate how the gift should be used.”

The guard shifts uncomfortably. “The girls, they do not leave here.”

Rodrigo shrugs contemptuously. “So you get another girl. What do you care?”

The guard takes out his phone. “For this, I need permission.”

Shit. We’re going to need to sell this.

Something tells me there’s no way Jacey will agree to me leaving this compound.

I look pleadingly at the guard. “Please don’t let him take me.” I sniff for effect. “I’ll work hard,” I whisper, my eyes wide and brimming with tears. “I’ll make money for you, I promise. Just don’t let him give me to his men. He’s going to let them rape me...” I start crying properly.

Rodrigo’s hand hits my face, so hard it almost knocks me out. “Shut up,puta.” His voice is low and vicious. “You will come with me. My men will take you one by one. And then you will come back here, and I will make sure they keep you alive so I can do it again. And again.” He hits me on the other side of my face, knocking me to the ground.

I don’t need to look at him to see the savage light in his eyes, the cruelty.

“As for yourpermission.” He spits on the floor beside the guard. “I do not ask permission from anyone,muchacho.You tell yourjefethat if he has a problem, he can talk to me about it himself. For now, I have a helicopter waiting for me on the pad, and some very angry men in Bangkok waiting to fuck this bitch bloody. You’ll get her back.” He sneers at the guard. “And when you do, you’re going to patch her up and make sure she’s in good condition for the next time I want to take her out to play.”

Ten minutes later, Rodrigo and I are in a helicopter, heading for Bangkok.

“Drink?”Rodrigo holds up a bottle of white wine, smiling coldly. “This was your preference, if I recall correctly.”

“Thank you.” I attempt a tentative smile. It’s the first words we’ve exchanged since the helicopter took off from Myanmar. I didn’t bother asking how he was able to cross international air space; I’ve lived too long in the shadows not to know rules don’t apply to men like him, particularly not on the murky border between Myanmar and Thailand.

We landed on the roof of a Bangkok hotel a short time ago. Now I’m sitting on a white leather couch in the penthouse, trying to ignore the pain radiating from Rodrigo’s recent blows.

He hands me a glass, then sits down on a chair opposite and raises his own. “To your newfound freedom.” His smile has a mean twist that makes me distinctly uneasy. “Enjoy it while you can.”

I drink, my mind racing. I know that smile.

The minute I give him the information he wants, I’m dead.

Which means I need to stall him for as long as I can.

“Then you believe me,” I say, meeting his eyes. “You found out that I was telling the truth?”

“I talked with my father’s friend,si.” Rodrigo’s mouth curls. “He was reluctant at first. But eventually he told me about his daughter. And admitted that he went to my father for help.”

I don’t want to imagine what it took to get that information.

“Then I made a visit to El Buen Pastor.” He takes a sip. “There, too, the girls were reluctant. But they also talked. In the end.” His nasty smile makes my skin crawl. “It seems that some still recall a girl who never spoke. A girl they calledLa Silenciosa.I showed them your photograph. It appears that part of your story, at least, is true.”

The chill of old ghosts climbs up my spine.

“I thought I mentioned the importance of being discreet.”My voice shakes, but more with anger than fear. “Questions leave a trail, Rodrigo. One this man will be looking for.”

“He will have little success.” His eyes gleam. “Everyone I spoke to is dead.”

I gape at him, temporarily lost for words, seeing the faces of the girls I slept beside in El Buen Pastor.

Which ones?Sorrow and anger seize my chest like a vise.Who died for my secret?