Page 47

Abby

Bangkok, Thailand

W e’ve been in the hotel room for less than an hour when the fire alarm splits the air.

“Don’t fucking move,” Rodrigo, who has been on the phone from almost the moment we got here, snaps at his minion.

He speaks rapidly into his phone in Spanish.

“It could be an attack. If you don’t hear from me within the hour, consider it war.

” He hangs up and glares at me. “This better not be your doing.”

I give a choked laugh and gesture to my bathrobe. “You made me strip in case I was being tracked. You know I don’t have a phone. I told you he’d come after us, Rodrigo.”

“ Joder ,” he mutters: fuck. He glances around the room, but we both know there’s no escape. The windows don’t open, and even if they did, we’re ten floors up. The only way out is the same way we came in .

“ Esperar ,” says Rodrigo’s minion, holding up a hand. Wait. He has his ear to the door.

There’s a timid knock on the door. “Leave room!” calls a female Thai voice. “Please! You leave now!”

The minion glances back at us. “It might truly be a fire,” he says in Spanish to Rodrigo. “There’s a lot of people yelling out there.”

I almost laugh. “It’s not a fire,” I mutter. Rodrigo glares at me, but I can see his mind working.

“You.” He grabs my arm and shoves me into the bathroom. “Stay quiet.” He puts an arm around my neck, holding me close to him, then takes out his gun and nods to the minion. “Open the door. And if anything comes through it that looks wrong, fucking shoot it.”

His man takes out his gun and takes a deep breath.

Then he opens the door.

For a split second, when smoke fills the room, I think there really is a fire.

Then Rodrigo’s bodyguard is blown back into the room with most of his chest missing, and I realize the smoke is coming from a canister on the ground.

Utter terror rips through me. I have to get out of here.

Rodrigo fires blindly into the smoke, and I hear the smash of breaking glass as his bullet hits the bar. Then he cries out, and his grip on me loosens as he clutches his leg. I twist out of his grasp and bend down, lurching through the smoke in the direction of the door.

Except I never make it even close. Instead, I run straight into a huge, solid wall of flesh, with arms that lock me into an iron grip.

I’m about to fight when I hear the snarl of a heartbreakingly familiar voice: “I’ve got her.”

Dimitry?

But there’s no time to process my shock or relief. I can feel Dimitry’s arm raising the gun behind me to shoot Rodrigo again.

Which will get us all killed.

“No!” I reach for his arm, trying to push it down. “Don’t shoot him,” I gasp, straining to see Dimitry’s face through the smoke. “You can’t.”

“Listen to your girlfriend.” Despite the gunshot in his leg, Rodrigo’s voice is remarkably steady. “If you shoot me, you will never leave Thailand, my friend, I promise you that.”

From behind Dimitry comes another low voice. “Room is clear.” A second gun points directly at Rodrigo. “Except for this fucker.”

“You can’t shoot him.” I’m still trying to press Dimitry’s gun arm away from Rodrigo.

“I’ll explain why later, I promise.” I don’t want to say Dimitry’s name aloud, don’t want to give Rodrigo anything to go on.

Dimitry’s face is still indistinct in the smoke, and he’s wearing a low hat that covers his eyes, but I can still feel his rigid tension, how poised on the edge of violence he is.

“We need to get the fuck out of here,” says the man with Dimitry. “I’ll check the corridor.”

I look back at Rodrigo, who is dripping blood on the floor and staring narrowly at Dimitry. “Tell them I escaped in the chaos,” I say to him quickly. “And lie about your bodyguard. Tell them you had a fight, anything. Just make them believe it.”

“We made a deal, Abby.” He glares at me through the smoke, despite the looming figure with a gun trained on him.

“ Mudak! ” Dimitry surges forward.

“Please.” I press my hands hard against his face, forcing him to look into my eyes. “Trust me.” And don’t speak Russian , I mouth. Dimitry’s eyes lock onto mine. His arm tightens around me, hard enough to squeeze the breath from my body, his face grim as death.

But at least he doesn’t shoot .

I glance back at Rodrigo. “I will keep my end of our deal,” I say. “You have my word.”

“Contact me at the other hotel.” He stares at me coldly. “I expect to hear from you very soon, Abby. If I do not—I will find you.”

Dimitry gives a snort of incredulous laughter, his gun still locked on the figure dripping blood in the bathroom.

“You won’t need to.” I hold Rodrigo’s eyes just long enough for him to know I mean it.

“Corridor is clear” comes another low voice from somewhere behind me. “Let’s go.”

The corridor is deserted. Dimitry practically carries me along it, into the stairwell. “Three minutes,” he mutters. Then: “I don’t think so, but be ready.” I realize he’s speaking into some kind of comms system.

“Dimitry,” I say as I run down the stairs ahead of him. “No airports, nowhere there might be eyes, okay? It’s important.”

“Paddy.” Dimitry speaks into his comms. “You know anyone with a boat?”

As he continues to murmur to the invisible Paddy, I follow the other man downstairs. As he turns on the landing he looks back at me with a grin and a wink. “Hey, Abs.”

“Luke!” Despite the circumstances, I find myself smiling back. I’ll never forget the way he protected Roman’s daughters last year.

I’m incredibly aware of Dimitry right behind me, still in disbelief that he’s here, but there’s no time to turn around. I half expect to meet Jacey’s men coming up the stairs toward us. By the way Dimitry and Luke are holding their guns, so do they.

We sprint down the stairs fast enough that I’m grateful for my bare feet.

Dimitry and Luke pocket their weapons as we come into the foyer, and again, Dimitry almost lifts me across the floor as we head through the sliding doors.

We pass fire engines with their lights flashing and cross the road to an innocuous-looking white SUV parked on the curb.

The doors open as we near it, and Dimitry bundles me into the back seat, then follows me in.

Luke backs around the car, eyeing the street warily, then he’s in the passenger seat, and the car pulls out into the street.

I hear a grunt from the carrier space behind me, but I can’t turn my head, since it’s crushed into Dimitry’s shoulder. He turns and gives a low chuckle.

“Christ, Paddy. You weren’t joking about taping him up.” He reaches over the seat, and I hear the sound of tape being ripped from skin.

“Didn’t have a choice” comes an Irish drawl from the driver’s seat. “Bastard was about to storm the fucking hotel solo.”

“Abby!” The hoarse voice from behind me stops my heart momentarily, then my eyes fill with tears.

I edge out from beneath the protective weight of Dimitry’s arm and turn slowly, my mouth dry. “ Dad ?”

My father’s unshaven, grim face is barely inches from my own. He reaches over and grips my shoulder roughly, his eyes traveling over me. “Jesus,” he says furiously. “What the hell did they do to you, Abby?”

I shake my head, brushing my tears away, trying to force myself to smile. I pull my robe more tightly around me, horribly aware of the rainbow palette of bruises covering my face and my almost-naked body beneath the robe.

Way to confirm his worst suspicions about you, Abby.

“I’m fine, Dad.” I try to inject as much strength into my voice as possible. “Really.”

My father is here? With Dimitry ?

My mind is spinning. I glance at Dimitry, but he’s currently leaning forward between the two front seats, engaged in a terse, low-voiced conversation with Luke and the driver that I’m clearly not meant to hear.

“Abby.” Dad squeezes my shoulder. His eyes are bloodshot, his face as gaunt as I’ve ever seen it. “I’m so sorry, girl.”

I’m shocked into silence. The last time my father called me girl , I was ten years old. It’s one of the memories I’ve clung to over the years, a sweetness I never thought I’d hear from him again. Especially not accompanied by an apology.

“It’s me who’s sorry, Dad.” My voice catches, and I blink fiercely against the tears threatening to fall. Whatever is happening right now, there’s no time for tears. I clutch the hand resting on my shoulder. “I can’t believe you’re here,” I whisper.

“Your mum is going to be so bloody relieved. I need to call her.” Dad goes to move, then pauses. Scowling, he reaches down, and I realize his legs are taped together. “Just as soon as I get this bloody tape off,” he roars, loudly enough to break the conversation in the front.

“Calm down, Farmer Joe,” calls the driver. I can hear him smiling, even if I can’t see his face. “And I’ve got your phone.” He waves it in the air.

“Wait.” I look between them all in confusion. “Someone needs to tell me what’s going on.” I frown at Dimitry, taking in his attire properly for the first time. “And why the hell are you all wearing those stupid clothes?”

“We had to make your dad look like a desperado cruising for bar girls.” Luke grins at me around his seat. “And I think the Hawaiian shirt suits Dimitry, don’t you?”

Given Dimitry’s grim expression, and the way he seems to be putting a lot of distance between his body and mine, I refrain from commenting.

“Give me my phone, Paddy,” my father growls.

“You can call the missus from the airport,” the driver answers cheerfully. “Five minutes, by the way,” he adds to Dimitry in an undertone.

“Five minutes until what?” I frown between them. Dimitry is now sitting as far away from me as the SUV will allow, staring grim faced at his phone as his thumbs fly on the screen. “I told you I can’t go to an airport.” I try to breathe through the crushing despair I feel at his remote expression.

“Paddy will drop you and me off somewhere else in five minutes.” Dimitry’s voice is low and controlled, but he still doesn’t look at me. “I’ve booked tickets for your father and Luke back to Perth.”