“We need to get closer.” Chloe was already reaching for the door handle.
“No.” He didn’t meant to be so blunt, but—“We confirm and report. That’s it.”
“But if we could hear?—”
“Chloe.”
Something in his tone seemed to make her stop. She looked at him.
“We confirm and report,” he repeated, gentler this time. “Getting closer means getting dead.”
She settled back in her seat, but her grip on the binoculars stayed white-knuckled. “Fine. But we don’t leave until he does.”
“Agreed.”
Volkov left twenty minutes later, and they followed him out into traffic. The sedan let him off at the Peninsula Bangkok hotel.
“Should we follow him?”
“No,” Skeet said. “Time to collect the team. They’re due here in an hour.”
He drove through Bangkok’s congested traffic. Chloe stared out the window, lost in thought. Or avoiding conversation. Hard to tell which.
“What’s on your mind?”
“Just thinking about the implications.” She turned from the window. “What is going on in that warehouse?”
He glanced at her. “Chloe—let the team figure that part out.”
Her mouth tightened.
Traffic thinned as they approached the residential district, Bangkok’s urban chaos giving way to manicured order. Ahead,ornate gates marked the entrance to Baan Sansiri, one of those upscale developments where expatriate executives lived behind walls topped with decorative spikes and twenty-four-hour security.
He’d found an Airbnb in a secure neighborhood. Mostly because he planned on leaving Chloe behind when the team arrived for a better look-see into the warehouse.
So maybe Chloe was right. This would never work between them.
“You can drop me off at the entrance and head straight to the airport.” Chloe pointed toward the gated community, where uniformed guards checked IDs from air-conditioned booths.
“I’ll drop you at the house.”
She glanced at him—he felt the burn on his neck. “I’ll be just fine.”
Skeet slowed as they approached the checkpoint, flashing their temporary-resident passes to the guard, who barely glanced up from his smartphone. The gates slid open, revealing a neighborhood that could have been transplanted from suburban America—two-story contemporary houses with clean lines and driveways paved with interlocking stone.
Their Airbnb house sat midblock, its glass-and-concrete facade glowing in the evening light. Motion-sensor security lights illuminated the covered carport and front entrance.
“Nice and quiet,” Chloe said as he turned into the driveway. “Good for getting some work done.”
And for staying safe, he didn’t add. Though not safe enough to keep him from worrying about leaving her here alone.
“I’ll be back in a couple hours,” he said, keeping the engine running.
“Take your time. I’ve got plenty to write about.” She grabbed her bag from the back seat. “Maybe I can order in some food.”
His mouth opened.
She smiled at him. “I’ll be fine.”