Chapter 4 #2
“So fix that. And frankly, I’m glad he’s there. I didn’t know that Jake would call him, but I’m glad he did. Finally, someone to watch your back. I was really worried.”
Chloe sighed.
“Please. It’s not like you don’t have some, um, issues.”
“What issues?”
“Commitment? Trust? The addiction to getting yourself in over your head?”
“I’m so glad I called.”
Selah laughed again. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”
Heat climbed Chloe’s neck. “Can we focus on more important things? Like the fact that people are dying and I’m probably the only one who can figure out why?”
“Sorry. How are you holding up? Really?”
Right. She sighed, trying for the right answer. “Dr. Tobias is dead. Poisoned, and I don’t know how. But I can’t help but think this is my fault. If I hadn’t dragged him into this—”
“Oh no. Dr. Tobias is dead?” Selah said softly. “Chlo, I’m so sorry.”
“He was a good man.” Her throat filled as she watched foot traffic on the street.
“Listen. I’m sure you didn’t drag him into anything. People make their own choices. You didn’t kill him. Evil people killed him. There’s a difference.”
“Is there?”
“Yes. And you know it.”
Maybe.
She walked across the deck. “How are you and North, by the way?”
“We’re good. Really good, actually. We’re back together.”
Something loosened in Chloe’s chest. “You scared me.”
“Right back atcha. I wish you didn’t have to go across the world to . . . well, to fill that hole inside.”
“It’s not a hole. It’s a . . . calling.”
“Yeah,” Selah said softly.
Chloe’s phone buzzed with an incoming text. She glanced at the screen—a message from May.
May
Found information about Dr. Radi?. He will be at the International Medical Conference in Bangkok this weekend. Arnoma Grand. Thought you should know.
“Chloe? You still there?”
“I just got a text from Chai’s wife. Dr. Radi?—the doctor I’ve been trying to find—he’s going to be at a medical conference in Bangkok this weekend.”
“That’s great news, right?”
“Yes.”
“Please tell me you’re not thinking of going alone.”
“Well, Skeet already said he’s not letting me out of his sight, so probably not.” She glanced inside. Yes, the man still slept on her sofa.
“Good. Let him help you, Chloe. I know you’re used to handling everything yourself, but sometimes the strongest thing you can do is accept help.”
Yeah. But suddenly, all she could think of was Tobias’s words. Let’s go keep each other alive. Her throat tightened.
Selah’s voice grew soft. “Just be careful, okay? I can’t lose you too.”
“You won’t. I promise.”
She hung up. Chloe stayed on the balcony for a moment longer, staring at May’s text. Bangkok was eight hours away. The conference would start Thursday morning—less than thirty-six hours from now.
If Dr. Radi? was there, she could find him. Get answers. Maybe even expose whatever conspiracy had gotten Dr. Tobias killed.
“Going somewhere?”
Chloe spun around to find Skeet standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, tousled sandy-brown hair rumpled from sleep. But his green eyes were completely alert—the look of someone who’d clearly learned to go from unconscious to operational in seconds.
He looked annoyingly good backlit by the soft apartment lighting, all lean muscle and protective intensity, the blond stubble along his jaw turning a little red in the light.
“Medical conference in Bangkok,” she said, holding up her phone. “May found him.”
“No.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re not going to Bangkok to hunt down a potentially dangerous witness at a public event where anyone could be watching.”
“I’m absolutely going to Bangkok.”
The words hung in the air between them. Beyond the villa’s walls, the city hummed with evening traffic and the distant sound of music from a night market. The pool below reflected stars that were just beginning to appear in the darkening sky.
“Over my dead body,” he said quietly.
And that, right there, was what she was afraid of.
Oh goody. Now they got to have another argument.
He fully planned on winning, even as Chloe stared him down.
Her jaw was set in that stubborn line he was beginning to recognize—her default response to anyone suggesting she might want to think twice about charging headfirst into danger.
“You can’t just go hunt this guy down.”
Her blue eyes blazed. “Why not?”
“Because you could be walking into a trap.”
“So, what?” Her voice lowered, sharper. “I’m supposed to just sit here while Dr. Radi? disappears? While whoever killed Dr. Tobias gets away with it?”
“I’m saying you should think strategically instead of emotionally.”
Wrong move, Blackwood.
Her eyes narrowed. “Emotionally? You think this is emotional?”
“I think you’re upset about Dr. Tobias—”
“I can’t just let people get hurt.” Her voice cracked on the last word.
“Chloe—”
“No.” She turned away, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes. “You don’t understand. People always get hurt when I’m not paying attention. When I’m not there to stop it.”
The words hung between them, loaded with history. He knew the story of her missing sister a little from the wedding, from Jake.
He’d never asked for details. But the regret he recognized. So, “C’mon.”
She dropped her hands. “What?”
“We’re going out.”
“I don’t want to go out. I want to plan how to find Dr. Radi?—”
“We can do that while we’re out.”
She stared at him. Then, “Where are we going?”
“Food therapy.”
“Still bossing me around?”
“No. But my sister always said food soothes all problems.”
“Your sister has never been to Overeaters Anonymous.” But something had shifted in her expression. “Your sister?”
“Katie. Three years older, way smarter, and the only person who could talk me down when I got wound up.” He moved toward the door. “Trust me on this one.”
Well, lookee there. She followed without argument.
They went down the external staircase, past the glowing pool, and through the villa’s garden gate onto streets that were transforming in the gathering darkness.
Chiang Mai came alive at night. Shophouses that looked ordinary during the day revealed hidden restaurants tucked into narrow alleys with the lure of grilling meat.
“Tell me about Katie.”
He glanced at her. Okay. Maybe if it made her stop obsessing over Dr. Radi?. “She was the responsible one. She had to be, with Dad deployed half the time and Mom having a hard time when he was gone.”
“That must have been tough. I know my mom always hated when Jake went OCONUS and she had no idea where he was.” Chloe was studying him, a look of compassion on her face. “How old were you when he started deploying?”
“I was born into it. He was always gone. But the last time was when I was fourteen. He left a note on the kitchen table that said ‘duty first,’ and I thought it meant I was supposed to do my homework before messing around.”
She stopped walking. “He left a note?”
“Emergency deployment. Couldn’t say goodbye in person. Katie found me waiting by the window three days later, convinced he’d come back to explain.”
“That’s awful.”
“Yeah. He died on that mission, so . . .” He lifted a shoulder.
“Took me until I was eighteen, until I joined the SEALs, before I really understood what his words meant.” And wow, he didn’t know why he’d told her that, but it seemed easy, walking in the crowded streets, the words leaving his chest to be lost in the chaos of the city.
Next to him, she said nothing, just nodded. Duty first. Maybe she got it too.
“That’s when I discovered food therapy. Katie always said some problems were too big for regular food, but ice cream made everything feel possible again.”
“She’s not wrong,” she said, and laughed.
And the sound of it just pinged inside him, a spark that lit him up.
He might be in trouble here.
They turned the corner onto Changklan Road, and the streets gave way to an explosion of light and color and sound.
Night market.
Red-and-gold lanterns strung between food stalls cast twinkling lights over a river of humanity.
Steam rose from dozens of portable gas burners, vendors tossing food in hot oiled woks, others manning grills, all the food stalls carrying competing scents of garlic, fish sauce, tamarind, and chili oil.
“I’m in,” Chloe said. “But I’m picking what you eat.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“Says the man who just spent two days eating MREs in the jungle.” She moved toward a stall where an elderly woman was grilling marinated pork skewers over glowing charcoal. “Thai street-food rule number one—if there’s a line of locals, the food is worth the risk.”
She gestured to the food, and the vendor handed over two skewers, fresh off the grill.
“What is it?” he asked as he took it.
“Moo ping. Grilled pork. Just eat it.”
Yes, definitely food therapy. Tender meat marinated in something complex—soy sauce, palm sugar, garlic, and herbs he couldn’t identify. The char from the grill added smokiness that made the sweetness pop.
“Good?” She watched him with a slight smile.
“Katie would have loved this.”
“Would have?”
He should deflect, change the subject. Instead, “She died four years ago. Car accident. Drunk driver ran a red light.”
Chloe’s face went soft. “I’m sorry.”
“She was a teacher. Third grade. Used to say she was raising the next generation of people who would fix the world’s problems.” Another bite of the grilled pork. “She would have liked you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. She had the same thing you do—that need to help people even when it’s dangerous.”
They moved through the bazaar side by side, looking at the food offerings—pad thai, grilled chicken, fried oyster omelets. She stopped at a stall of crispy grasshoppers and silkworms.
“No. Please, for the love, no,” he said.
She laughed. “Your turn.”
He paused at a stall where a vendor was flipping what looked like pancakes.
“Roti.” She watched the vendor spread banana and chocolate across the grilled dough. “Thai pancakes. You’re going to love this.”
“I’m in.”
He bought one for her, then for himself.