Page 177 of Lethal Abduction

I tense slightly. “Oh, he doesn’t close for a few hours yet.”

“Right.” His eyes narrow. “Pretty sure he’d be happy to close early, if you rang.”

Christ. Not you too.

Abby has been dropping more than a few idle hints lately, about how Leon and I need to have what she diplomatically terms aproper conversation.

“You know, you Russians are a lot like Australians,” Pete goes on when I don’t answer. “Since I’ve been here, I’ve met your mate Roman, and that smooth prick Mak, as well as your father. You all love a drink and a story. But when it comes to the shit that matters, you’re buttoned up tighter than a bloody priest.” He swallows a mouthful of his pint. “Do you know why Suze and I are over here?”

I lift a shoulder. “I don’t know, Pete. Seeing the world in your old age?”

“Yeah, well. You’d think that would be it, wouldn’t you.” His eyes in the mirror are suddenly somber. “Truth is, it came down to a fight with my son—over a bloody hay baler, of all things.”

He shakes his head when I smile.

“All these years,” he says quietly, “I always thought Jamie was happy. Then the baler broke down. I was pissed off, obviously. Ripped him a new one for not getting it looked at earlier. Next thing I knew, my boy had laid me out.”

He smiles ruefully, rubbing his jaw. “Knocked me so hard I saw stars for days. Turns out, he’d asked me at least a dozen times to get someone out to look at it, but I’d just ignored him. Tried to fix it myself, whatever. Point is, I didn’t actually hear him. And what he’d really been trying to say for years was that he was more than ready to take over running the farm. He was just waiting for me to offer it to him, but I never did.”

He meets my eyes in the mirror. “You and your father are opening a business together. He’s coming to your wedding. You get together and talk about business. But from what I can tell, you don’t talk about anything else, despite you spending every other week in London.”

I scowl. “Sounds like you two did a lot of talking, for two men who hardly know each other.”

“Well, we’re about to be family. That has a funny way of breaking down barriers. And we’ve both got sons who are stubborn as Mallee bulls, so that helped, too.” Pete pushes the phone across to me. “Call him. I’ll take myself out for a walk.” He downs his pint. “Try to enjoy all this culture my wife keeps dragging me out to see.”

He claps me on the shoulder, then leaves without waiting for a reply.

I stare at my phone for a good five minutes.

Pete’s right, and I know it.

Leon and I get along as well as we did that first dinner. We’ve spent hours together working out how our business will work and talking about the future.

And amid all that, never once have we discussed our shared past.

I take a deep breath and punch his number.

“Hey,” I say when he answers. “It’s me. I was thinking—are you free for lunch?”

“We can eat afterward,if you want,” Leon says. “But some things are better talked about in the open air, where nobody is listening.”

We’re walking through Hyde Park, where the mist still lies low over the water despite it being early afternoon and well into spring.

Fucking London weather.Thank Christ Abby and I will be living in Spain.

“How did you know it was that kind of conversation?” I give him a curious sidelong glance.

He smiles wryly. “You’ve come to the gallery to talk business. You’ve invited me out with Mak and Roman. You’ve never once asked me out for lunch.”

I feel a twist of shame.

“I understand it,” Leon says quietly. “To be frank, I’m not sure I felt like talking either. I... needed a minute, after Myanmar.”

Yeah.

We all did.

It was weeks before Abby stopped waking up drenched in sweat, and even longer until the hunted look began fading from her eyes.

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