Page 131 of Lethal Abduction

If I think back to when Nico worked with the Cardeñas cartel, it was the same then, too. As his girlfriend I was expected to maintain myself immaculately, dress well when we met his clients on yachts at the marina. That was the only role women played in that world.

It’s one of the reasons I fought so hard against Dimitry in the beginning. I wanted to paint, to build a life of my own, not be just the handbag of some bratva soldier.

I still want that.

“Yes,” I say slowly. “I guess I can understand why a certain identity might be important in that world.” I meet his eyes. “But you still haven’t told me how you got to know her so well.”

“Ah.” Leon’s smile stretches slightly. “I’m beginning to see why Dimitry cares about you so much, Abby. You don’t back down from a challenge, do you?” He doesn’t wait for an answer before continuing, still smiling. “Very few people can afford the kind of rare art that emerges on the black market. Often, those who covet such items have an appetite for the forbidden. It isn’t so much the art that they prize, but ratherthe illicit thrill of acquiring what others can never own. I’ve sold black-market Rembrandts to men who have never heard of the Dutch Golden Age and immaculate first editions of Tolstoy to oligarchs who will never readWar and Peace.” His smile fades. “Unfortunately, that taste for the forbidden often stretches to human beings, too. Of all theillicit thrillsavailable to purchase, there are those—usually men—who seek out rare humans as much as they do rare art.”

“Rarehumans?” I frown. “What do you mean?”

Leon shrugs. “It can be anything. A particular race or eye color. Sometimes it might be a public figure. That happens more than you might think; there are social media influencers whose sudden rise to fame has nothing at all to do with talent and everything to do with their willingness to remain quiet after being... paid for by such men.”

I’m not surprised, exactly.

But I am disgusted.

And all I can think about are my friends. Of all of them, Lucky may survive without being forced to entertain men, given her programming skills. But Yrsa? Mary?

For both of them, it’s only a matter of time.

Sooner or later, everyone on the scam lines becomes worn out. At that point, they either end up dead or on their back, men and women alike.

I shudder.

I have to get them out of there.

“You asked earlier if I spoke from experience, when I talked about your parents.”

I look up in surprise.

Leon’s smile is entirely gone, and his face is no longer hard so much as it is haunted. “Fatherhood, I may not know much of,” he says quietly. “But guilt I know better than most men ever will. If you want to understand why Zinaida and I work together, then that is your answer.” His eyes are opaque, but Ican see the pain behind them. “Guilt is a corrosive, destructive thing to live with. And if you will forgive me, Abby, it seems to me that you are in danger of being overtaken by it.”

My breath catches in my throat, the tangled threads of all the people I am afraid for twining around my chest in a gnarled knot.

Darya. Roman and Dimitry. My parents. Lucky, Mary, and Yrsa.

All in danger, because of me and my mistakes.

Leon is right. From the moment Dimitry burst into that hotel, the knot of guilt has been tightening, drawing those I love ever closer to a fate I feel helpless to prevent.

I know I can’t run again. I wouldn’t do that to Dimitry, even if I could.

But even though I can see a glimmer of hope in the loose plan Dimitry outlined, I know, better than anyone, the true darkness he’d be walking into. I know there’s little chance of success, no matter how well we plan.

Leon’s voice cuts through the black cloud. “I realize that we might not know one another very well, so you can choose to ignore my advice, if you wish. But I hope—very much, Abby—that you might at least allow me to give you the benefit of my own mistakes?”

I nod, words temporarily failing me.

“Tell Dimitry everything you haven’t already.” Leon’s gray eyes are steady and reassuring, oddly comforting. “Trust him. He loves you, and he will go into that compound whether you tell him the truth or not. My advice is to be completely honest.” He gives me a half smile. “Guilt and shame grow in the darkness of silence, Abby. Bring them into the light, and they fade like mold beneath the sun. WorkwithDimitry. Because I promise you, whatever guilt you feel now is nothing to the years of regret you will endure if you withhold information from Dimitry which may save him later.”

28

Dimitry

Iwake from a dead sleep in late afternoon with a lurch of fear and a raging hard-on.

It takes a minute for the events of the previous days to reassert themselves, and another few for my heart to slow down.

---