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Thirty-Eight
Damian parkedthe motorcycle he’d found in the garage around the corner from Lucky Bar and paid a guy on the street a hundred U.S. dollars to watch it, promising him a hundred more when he got back. It didn’t mean the bike would still be there, but if he made it out of this alive, replacing Locke’s motorcycle would be a small price topay.
He’d given strict instructions to Sarut not to leave Aria alone under any circumstance. Damian had also given him instructions for getting Aria out of Thailand if he didn’t return alive, telling him to get Aria to the charter terminal in Chiang Mai immediately and to see her on the Cavallo jethimself.
Then he’d headed into the city on themotorcycle.
He considered making a trip around the block before entering the bar, but if it was a Thai Mob stronghold he didn’t want to do anything to alert Juntasa’s men of hispresence.
Damian wasn’t expecting a warmwelcome.
The city was beautiful at night: lights strung across the trees in outdoor restaurants, motorbikes and scooters whizzing past, the smell of cooking fish and frying oil making his stomach grumble in spite of the dinner he’d just eaten withAria.
He wished that they were here for some other reason — any other reason. He wanted to hold Aria’s hand as they walked the streets, stopping to perch on chairs in the outdoor markets like any othertourists.
Maybesomeday.
He navigated through the throng of pedestrian traffic with his head down and entered a narrow street paved with stone. Lucky Bar was at the end, across from another establishment called The YellowBar.
Some of the bars and restaurants on the street had outdoor tables and chairs, and Damian maneuvered around them as he made his way to the end of thestreet.
The crowd thinned as he got closer to Lucky Bar, and he wondered if the locals knew it was controlled by Juntasa’s men or if everyone in the vicinity was picking up on some kind of vibration that screamedDANGER.
Unlike some of the bars he’d passed that were open to the street without a door to mark their entrance, Lucky Bar was fronted with a dull reddoor.
He hesitated only a moment before pushing his wayinside.
The place was small and narrow. A room at the front led into a narrow walkway next to the bar. Beyond it, he could make out a slightly bigger and darker room, two pool tables in the center, their green felt like a flag planted in the sea of people blocking hisview.
He took a moment to look around, scanning the crowd for Juntasa or Gatti before he made his way past the bar to the backroom.
He’d reached the end of the bar when he spotted Gatti sitting at a table, a bottle of beer in his hand, a young Thai man across the table fromhim.
Then he saw Krit Juntasa in the corner, surrounded by men in leather jackets, smoke rising from their cigarettes as they surveyed Damian through watchfuleyes.
Malcolm reached inside his jacket, but Damian walked past him, stopping in front of Juntasa’stable.
He half-expected a bullet to hit him in the back, but apparently even Malcolm Gatti wasn’t reckless enough to fire a weapon in Juntasa’s establishment without hispermission.
Damian nodded at Juntasa, making sure to keep his hands visible as hespoke.
“Thank you for allowing me in your fine establishment,” Damian said, feeling like he was approaching a tribal chief. “I bring only respect and regards to yourorganization.”
Juntasa took a drag on his cigarette before putting it out in the ashtray in front of him. “I know why you’ve come, DamianCavallo.”
Damian nodded. “I seek only yourblessing.”
It wasn’t entirely true. He would gun Malcolm down and take out as many of the other men as possible if that’s what it took to make sure Aria was safe even after hisdeath.
But he didn’t want it to go down thatway.
“Ours is a family business.” Juntasa’s English was impeccable, laced with a British accent that spoke of an overseas education. “All of the men at this table are myfamily.”
Was Juntasa making a point about Malcolm trying to buy his way in? A point about Malcolm’sdisrespect?
“I understand family,” Damian said. “Andloyalty.”
Juntasa studied him. Damian forced himself not to reach for his gun when Juntasa rose to his feet. He waved a hand at the men seated around the table and they allstood.
