I know better than to feed Merc’s insults so I ignore that whole f**king outburst. “I need dirt, Merc. Lots of dirt.”

“What’s the name?”

“Damian Li, owner of Li Pharmaceutical Imports, based in Tijuana. How fast can you get it?”

“Depends, Ford.” I hear keystrokes and know he’s looking right now. “He’s big time. You sure you wanna mess with him?”

“I’m in love with his daughter and he took her away this morning.”

“Give me a few days.”

“I’m leaving for location filming a week from today. I need it before then.”

“Got it.”

I press end on the phone and tuck it back into my coat pocket. I finish the drive home in silence. I’m missing them. I’m missing Ashleigh’s antics and Kate’s gummy smile. This is the first night in a week that we’ve been apart and I am missing them.

I park the Audi and look longingly over at the Bronco, picturing our road trip. Those were the best seven days of my life. Truly. I get out and go inside, not even bothering to turn on the lights until I get to Kate’s room.

It’s wrong for it to be empty. Just wrong.

I think about my plan as I take in her things. Her little crib that is not nearly good enough for her. She deserves something fancy and pink. This one is just a portable fold-up thing that Pam got in a hurry. No love went into choosing it. If I get them back, we’ll buy all this stuff again. We’ll spend lots of time mulling over every little detail.

But right now I need to think about the job. Because the risks this time are so much higher than money and prison time.

This time, I’m risking my heart.

Chapter Forty-Three

The downtown San Diego office of Damian Li, CEO of Li Pharmaceuticals is not what I expected.

One, it’s not an office building like one might imagine houses other large corporations around the world. And two, it’s not some waterfront warehouse that one might imagine houses an international drug smuggler.

No. Damian Li’s office is actually a craftsman-style bungalow in Hillcrest.

A house. A f**king house smack on Sixth Avenue, in the middle of one of the largest g*y communities in California, across from Balboa Park, with no f**king off-street parking. I drive past to make sure I know where the place is, then hang a right onto Laurel and go down a few blocks until I see the brightly colored lavender building and hang a left into the alley where a tall, thirty-something blonde woman waves out a hello. I unlock the doors and she opens the passenger side and gets in with a whoosh.

“I told you it was easy to find,” she says, dragging her seatbelt across her chest. California has its people trained well. We are going two blocks down the road, but the seatbelt action is instantaneous and automatic.

“Well.” I nod up at the building. “It’s the only f**king purple office building on Laurel. Not exactly stealthy.”

“No, we’re not about being stealthy here.” She chuckles at her inside joke.

“Right.” I look over her clothes and give her the once-over, then proceed down the alley so I can get back over to Sixth Avenue. “Well, you clean up nice. That outfit is perfect.”

“Thanks, I had a little help, but yeah. I like the business classy look. I might adopt it in the future.”

“Good for you,” I say absently as I search for an on-street parking spot. “Who the f**k has an office with no parking?”

“I thought you said he does business in TJ?”

I shoot her a dirty look. “Just remember when we get inside, no talking. You nod or look to me for guidance, got it?”

She waves her hand at me like I’m the one annoying her. “There!” she exclaims, pointing. “That guy’s pulling out. Quick, put your blinker on and—”

I reach over and place my hand over her mouth. “No. Talking. I know how to parallel park, for f**k’s sake. Stop mothering me.”

She rolls her eyes when I move my hand and wait for the car to pull out, then I slip in and straighten out the Audi. I let out a deep breath and look over at my accomplice. “Please, just whatever you do, don’t f**k this up. I only have one chance.”

She holds up three fingers on her right hand. “Scout’s Honor.”

“That is just so unnecessary.”

She snickers.

Please, God, I know I don’t check in often since I’m pretty good at figuring this life shit out myself, but please, do not let this woman f**k up my plan. I beg you. You totally owe Ashleigh.

And then I get out of the car and walk down the street and cut over to Sixth Avenue to Damian Li’s home office. It’s a modest place for a man of his stature, but real estate is at a premium here, so it’s a much bigger deal than it looks like from the street. I walk up the expansive porch supported by the signature craftsman-style pillars, and then tap the large square knocker on the equally impressive front door.

Mr. Li greets us personally.

How quaint.

“Mr. Aston.” He smiles a fake smile. I might not be Ronin, but I can finger the fakeness as well as anyone. “It’s nice to see you again. You’re looking well.” He steps out of the way and waves me forward. “Come in, please.”

He eyes my companion with a slight narrowing of his eyes, but that’s all. To her credit, she says nothing. We are directed through the reception room and down a hallway to the office. “Do you live here?” I should not be worried about it, but I can’t help myself. What the f**k is up with the house-slash-office in Hillcrest?