They’d finished eating the grilled tuna, mango salsa, and rice Aria had prepared for dinner when Damian’s phone rang. He looked at the display as he carried their plates into the kitchen.

“It’s Cole,” he said to Aria.

She took the plates and he stepped out into the courtyard, the pool glimmering in a darkness lit only by the lights subtly planted in the fragrant bushes.

“Tell me you have something,” he said into the phone.

“I have something,” Cole said.

He’d called Cole from the plane to tell him about Aria. Cole had still been patrolling outside the hospital and Damian had the feeling Aria had not won any points with his underboss by sneaking out the emergency room entrance before the two extra guards had arrived.

Damian didn’t blame Cole for Aria’s escape— he knew more than anyone how crafty Aria could be — but it was still a wound to Cole’s pride.

The last time they’d talked, Cole had still been running down leads. Damian had hung up the phone hoping they got a break soon. Hanging out indefinitely in Chiang Mai wasn’t the plan — nor was blindly searching the streets, a move that would in all likelihood get him killed before he ever laid eyes on Gatti.

“Talk to me,” Damian said.

“He’s in the city,” Cole said. “Landed right on time. I had one of our guys with ties to the area reach out to the organization there. Rumor has it, Gatti’s been making overtures.”

“Overtures?”

“Making calls, offering up information on New York and the Greeks in exchange for a buy-in to the organization,” Cole said.

Damian almost laughed. “He’s trying to buy his way into the Thai Mob?”

“Yeah, and word is Kirt Juntasa isn’t exactly thrilled,” Cole said.

Kirt Juntasa was head of the Thai organization. Damian had never met him, but his reputation preceded him — according to everyone who was in a position to know, Juntasa was more than dangerous, he was sadistic.

Creatively sadistic.

“I wouldn’t think so,” Damian said. “Is Gatti really dumb enough not to realize that kind of move will be seen as disrespectful?”

Malcolm Gatti was a lot of things — a lot of grotesque things — but Damian had never taken him for stupid.

“He’s not dumb — he’s desperate,” Cole said. “This is the only play he has.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t make a move for Anastos’ territory,” Damian said.

“I think he knows the Syndicate will be coming for that too,” Cole said. “Besides, Anastos probably had at least five guys vying for the turf already.”

He had a point. Damian would never say never with the Syndicate — they might come for Thailand eventually, but only after they’d achieved domination in the more obvious markets. Thailand was as safe a place as any for Gatti to seek refuge — if he didn’t get himself killed first.

“Where is he now?” Damian asked.

“Place called Lucky Bar controlled by Juntasa.”

“Lucky Bar?” Damian chuckled into the phone in spite of the situation. The Thai, like many Asian countries, had a fascination with American culture. It wasn’t unusual to find strange or remedial combinations of English words on nightclubs, bars, restaurants, and clothing shops.

“Yeah,” Cole said. “If you hold off a couple days, I’ll have your back. I can be on a plane in an hour.”

“Can’t do it,” Damian said.

“You can,” Cole said. “And you should.”

The words sat between them on the phone. They were dangerously close to insubordination — no one told Damian what he should or shouldn’t do.

No one.

He exhaled. Cole was worried about him. It’s what people did when they gave a shit if you lived or died, something Damian was just beginning to experience.

“I can’t risk Juntasa taking him out,” Damian said.

“Why?” Cole asked. “Seems like a good solution to me. Juntasa takes out Gatti, you and Aria come home, problem solved.”

He couldn’t explain it to Cole — that he had to be the one to kill Gatti, that he had to be able to tell Aria he’d seen Gatti die with his own eyes.

“It has to be me,” Damian said. “But I appreciate the offer.”

Cole sighed. “I’ll text you the address and a current photo of Juntasa. Keep me posted.”

Damian disconnected the call and slid the phone into his pocket. He looked into the pool, as blue as the water off the island of Kythnos. He hoped he got the chance to take Aria someplace beautiful when this was all over — this time for nothing but R&R.

He was tired of being in incredible countries on a mission to kill.

Tired of seeing the worry in Aria’s eyes.

Most of all, he was tired of leaving her, of not knowing if he would ever see her again, if he would see their baby born.

He felt her arms slide around his waist from behind and turned around to hold her.

“Time to go?” she asked.

He kissed the top of her head. “Time to go.”