He studied her liquid brown eyes for a sign that she was lying. “How long ago was that?”

“Seventeen months, two weeks, and a day.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me, too.”

“You weren’t stupid.”

“Yes. I was. That doesn’t mean it was my fault, though.” A pause. “When people think of human trafficking, they think of Thai virgins kidnapped from villages and shipped overseas. But sometimes it’s just drinking the wrong glass of champagne.” She let that one land for a moment, then said, “But I don’t know how to fragment a C2 vertebra into someone’s brain stem. So I must do this.” Her grip on his back flagged. “You’re no good at not having sex.”

“Thanks.”

She flipped them over so she was on top. “Let me be in charge.”

“Gladly.”

Her hips did something magical. “Is that you getting aroused?” she asked.

“No,” he said.

“Uh-uh,” he said.

“Nope,” he said.

She smiled. “Maybe I should be less in charge?”

“Maybe so.”

She eased off him a bit.

All of a sudden, outside lights went on, flooding the bedroom through the sliding glass door. There were shouts and sounds of commotion.

Evan got up, pulled on his jeans, and stumbled through the slider, the balcony frosted beneath his bare soles. By the barn four narcos were laid out on their backs, making tiny, listless movements. Another was curled on the wet ground beside them, clutching his stomach, vomit drooling from the side of his mouth. The skinny guard was off the tower, radioing frantically. He waved around one of the slender white remotes, clicking on more lights to illuminate the grounds. Samuel staggered out of the barn, veering unevenly toward the fire. He banged into the suspended pot, knocking it to the ground. A sludge of chili spilled out.

Samuel sat heavily on a crate, wiping sweat from his brow. He pointed to the dark glop of chili on the ground.

The skinny guard’s posture changed. His rail-thin shoulders lowered. He crouched and picked up one of the bone-china plates resting on a crate. Let it drop from his hand. It shattered. He sat on the crate, lowered his head into his hand.

Then he rose, doubled over, and ran into the barn. No doubt looking for a toilet.

“What?” Despi said, keeping a few steps back from the threshold to the balcony. “What is it?”

Before Evan could answer, he heard the resonant boom of the chalet’s front door opening. A moment later Dex lumbered off the porch into view, his massive back bowed, his shadow elongated before him. He approached the barn and spoke to Samuel.

Hard rain spit at Evan. He squinted through the haze as Samuel slid off the crate, collapsing to the ground.

Two dogs, three guards, two snipers, and Dex.