AJ’s phone rang, singing “Bad to the Bone” at an ear-piercing volume in the silence of the library.
Several people turned to him, giving the stink eye and muttering under their breath.
AJ couldn’t get his phone out of his back pocket fast enough.
He didn’t have a picture of Sasha in his phone, just her phone number next to the name he called her in his head. Sex on a Stick.
“Miss me?” she asked once he said hello.
“’Bout damn time.” His curt words were said in a harsh whisper. He held the phone to his ear with his shoulder and gathered up the papers he’d been writing on. “Where the hell did you go?”
The phone sounded like it was cutting out, then he heard her.
“Are you laughing at me?”
“Get over yourself, Junior. I’m on my way. Check out of the hotel and return your rental car.”
He closed the windows he had open on the library computer and filled his arms with paperwork.
Heads turned and watched him as he walked by. “I feel sorry for whoever marries you. You’re more demanding than any woman I’ve ever met.”
“Ha. That will never happen.”
Yeah, AJ didn’t see her married either. Outside the library, the cool autumn wind blew through him. “Where am I meeting you this time?”
“The subway. Alexanderplatz Station. You have an hour.”
AJ turned on his heel, headed back toward the hotel. “That doesn’t give me much time.”
“Make it work.”
She hung up.
Thirty-eight hours of no contact, and when she called, nothing but demands.
This pace is getting old.
But damn it was good to hear her voice.
Sasha looked at the road behind her.
Richter was a mile away, but if you peered above the line of the trees, you could see the rooftop of the clock tower. Something told her she’d be back. Only the next time might not be on such friendly terms.
Sasha placed her phone in the inside pocket of her jacket and kicked over the bike. She made it half a mile before she sped past a lone person walking down the side of the empty road.
One look in her rearview mirror and she slammed on the brakes. A turn of the wheel and she skidded next to the pedestrian, cut the engine.
Sasha ripped off her helmet and yelled, “What the hell are you doing?”
“You can say I’m going AWOL, but I prefer early leave.” Claire jostled a backpack higher on her shoulder and grinned.
“Does the headmistress know you’ve left?”
“Probably not yet.”
Sasha shook her head. “Get on. You’re going back.”
“No, I’m not. You see, recording private conversations between men who hire killers and, well, anyone . . . might be grounds for punishment at the school, but it also happens to be illegal in Germany. I can’t imagine Mr. Pohl would like to hear that a student on campus knows his agenda. So I think, for my safety, I’d be better off out here.”
“He will never know.”
“Can you guarantee that?” Claire asked.
Sasha knew she couldn’t. Her gut twisted.
“That’s what I thought.” Claire approached the bike, tugged her other arm through her backpack, and secured it with a clip. She took the helmet from Sasha’s hands and placed it over her head.
Sasha’s mind raced for an argument.
“Since you got me into this mess, you can make sure I’m safe before trotting off to wherever you’re going.”
“The only mess is you running away.”
“I didn’t run. I hopped over the fence after leaving a little note for Linette. Walking past Checkpoint Charlie would have resulted in an inquisition. One, quite frankly, I wanted nothing to do with. Especially since Pohl was still poking around.”
“I thought he left.”
“Nope. He was down in the range. Just seeing him there made me puke a little in my mouth. So I left.” Claire turned her head. “Now if you don’t mind . . . I’d like to put some distance between me and the school before anyone knows I’m gone. I don’t really trust my roommates to keep their mouths closed about the boiler room. All they ever did there was watch YouTube videos.”
Sasha ran a hand down her thigh, fingers clenched. She cussed in three languages before giving up and kicking over the bike.
“Hang on.”
Arms clung to her waist, and Sasha put some distance between the runaway and a recruiter of killers.
AJ stood on the sidewalk above Alexanderplatz Station and searched the people walking. His gaze caught every dark-haired woman. He thought of the blonde wig and switched his search for that.
Too many women.
He glanced at his watch. An hour . . . on the nose.
He searched the crowd again.
He saw her. Her head popped above the others because of her height. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail, dark sunglasses covered her eyes.
But it was her.
His gut stirred.
She leaned over and started talking to someone.
AJ’s gaze narrowed on a teenage girl. Dark brown hair, wide eyes.
Sasha stopped in front of him.
“Who the hell is this?” he asked.
“Baggage,” Sasha said without humor.
“Hey!” The girl elbowed Sasha and turned to him. “I’m Claire,” she said, pleased with herself.
“Sasha?”
She pushed past him and headed downstairs to the trains. “I’ll explain later.”
AJ had no choice but to follow.
Claire fell into step behind Sasha.
A train pulled in as they reached the bottom steps. They pushed into the crowded car and held on to steel poles to keep from falling into the people standing next to them. He had a hundred questions but held each one in.
Claire, on the other hand, didn’t. “So, are you the boyfriend?”
AJ laughed, looked up to see if Sasha heard Claire’s question. Her blank expression said she’d missed it.
“No.”
Claire glanced at their mutual companion. “Huh.”
They rode in silence; the noise of the crowd around them filled the air. On the third stop, Sasha motioned for them to follow.
She immediately dragged them toward the bathrooms and stopped him at the door. “Wait for us.”
“Again with the orders.”
Only he did.
When they stepped back out, Claire was wearing Sasha’s jacket and a baseball cap. Sasha had tucked her hair into a red pixie cut wig, and a long light gray sweater went all the way to her knees.
He took one look at her and grinned. “I like the red better than the blonde.”
She muttered something in a language he didn’t speak.
Claire laughed.
“Should I change?” he asked.
Sasha looked him up and down. “No one is looking for you.”
Claire shrugged, and once again they followed Sasha out of the station.
“Now where?” AJ asked.
Sasha marched as if on a mission. Her long strides ate up the sidewalk; her head was buried in her phone. AJ looked over to see her on some kind of airline app.
“Sasha?”
She lifted the phone to her ear and hushed him with a finger in the air. “It’s me.”
AJ listened to one side of the conversation while Sasha took care of whatever agenda she was on.
“Is Blake’s still an option? Great. I’ll need a passport . . . no. I’ll send you a picture. American. I’ll make it easy, Amsterdam, Victoria Station.” She stopped and looked between both him and Claire. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t have so much extra help.”
Claire leaned in. “At least I’m no longer baggage.”
Sasha turned and started walking again. “Precautionary. I’ll fill you in when we get there.”
She disconnected the call and stopped in front of them. She directed her phone at Claire and pointed toward the side of a white building. After making the girl remove her baseball cap, she snapped two pictures and sent them into cyberspace.
“I take it the papers are for her,” AJ said.
Sasha stared at Claire. “Even if she had hers on her, we couldn’t use it.”
“Linette keeps all of them.”
“I remember.”
She started walking again, this time close to the side of the busy road. At an intersection, she waited. As a bus pulled around a corner, AJ watched as she dropped her cell phone into the road.
“What the?” Claire said.
A double stomp later, and Sasha bent down to pick up what remained.
Someone on the street said something AJ assumed was a gesture of sympathy for the loss of an expensive phone.
Sasha shrugged, turned the device over in the palm of her hand, and removed a SIM card.
On the move again, she tossed the phone in a nearby trash can, the SIM card made it into a city drain.
They worked their way to the Hauptbahnhof station and Sasha told him to purchase three tickets.
“Let me guess . . . Amsterdam.”
“You pay attention, Junior. I like that in a man.”
Claire’s amused laugh reminded him of his sister when they were kids and he’d been busted by their parents for some offense or another.
“How long before we have what we need for our baggage?”
“Hey . . . I’m the help.”
AJ ignored the girl.
“Before the last train leaves.”
“You’re kidding.” He knew illegal passports could be bought, but that quickly?
Sasha stepped closer, tapped a finger to her chest. “Professional.”
That same finger tapped his sternum. “Amateur.”
The purr in her voice shouldn’t be a turn-on.
He stepped farther into her personal space. “I’m going to find something I’m better at than you and turn the tables.”
“I look forward to it.” She slid past him, her shoulder grazing his as she marched into a convenience store.
Claire laughed and followed her.
AJ was reduced to jockeying tickets on the next train to Amsterdam.