Revealing Us (Inside Out #3)(49)

Obviously entertained by the man’s reaction, Chris’s lips twitch and he motions me to the door. We’re halfway to the exit when Bernard calls out to us. Chris stops but doesn’t turn, as if the man is unworthy of his attention. He answers the man, sounding rather amused, as if whatever power Bernard believes he has is a joke. Then we start walking again and we don’t stop.

We travel briskly through the waiting room, where people cluster like ants. Halfway to the exit the hair on the nape of my neck prickles, as it had when I was shopping yesterday.

Fighting the urge to look behind us, I try to erase the sensation with a rub of my hand. It has to be Bernard watching our departure, and I cast Chris an anxious glance. “Can we just walk out like that?”

“We just did.”

Right. We just did. The prickling sensation deepens and I rub harder; I can’t get out of here soon enough. “What about Rey and Chantal?” I ask when we inally step into the main corridor.

“I had Rey take Chantal home.”

“They don’t know about—”

“No. You can relax. I questioned Rey on the phone before I got here.”

Relief washes over me. “Have you talked to Stephen?”

“Long enough for him to tell me to do what I’d planned on doing anyway, and get you the hell out of there.”

Having my freedom blessed by our attorney is cold comfort, considering I’m still without a passport and being questioned about a murder I didn’t commit. “You know,” I say through my teeth, “these accusations are really starting to piss me of.”



Chris looks down at me, approval glowing in his eyes.

“About time you got mad.”

Yes, I think as we approach the exit. About time. I guess I have Bernard to thank for my coming around. It’s time I remind everyone I am a victim, but not the kind I’ve acted like. Ava tried to kill me. They should be helping me, not attacking me with her.

We join a half-dozen people near the exit, all staring at the sheets of rain coming down outside. I cut Chris a hopeful look.

“I don’t suppose you have an umbrella under that jacket of yours?”

“’Fraid not,” he replies, shrugging out of his jacket to wrap the heavy weight around me. “Let me pull the car as close to the door as I can get it. Watch for me at the curb, but it’s still a pretty good run.”

An image of me slipping and falling lat on my face is not a pleasant one, and I take of his coat, wishing I hadn’t left mine with Rey. “No, it’s too heavy for me to run in. Really. I’m no Grace Kelly, Chris. I will fall. I’d rather just leave now with you.” I shiver and hug myself. “I want out of this place.”

“I’m parked too far away. Wait for me. I’ll come back to the door with something to cover you up.”

“Fine. If you want to play Mr. Good Guy. I’ll wait. But please hurry. I don’t want Bernard cornering me again.”

Chris shoves an arm back in his coat, and the prickling sensations on my neck return. Uneasily, I glance around the lobby, and I’m instantly drawn to the proile of a man leaning against a nearby wall. He glances up and I gasp with shock at the familiar face. The man straightens instantly, preparing to bolt, and I grab Chris’s shirt. “It’s the pickpocket from the airport. He’s here.”

“Where?”

I point.

My pickpocket has dashed for the door in a full sprint.

Chris turns to me, hands solidly planted on my shoulders. “Stay here. And I mean stay here, Sara.” Then he runs for the door.





Sixteen


I’m running before Chris is even outside. There’s no way I’m staying inside when he’s chasing a criminal who could easily be armed.

Shoving my way past the doors, struggling to slide my purse across my chest, I burst outside, and I might as well have been sprayed in the face with a ire hose for the ierceness of the cold rain attacking me. Shoving my soaked hair from my face, I desperately scan for Chris, and ind him in a hard run to my left. Instantly I am in motion, wishing my thin silk blouse was warmer and my heels lower. Wishing even more that I dared have my phone ready in case I need to call for help, without the downpour ruining it.

When I am a half a block from the embassy, Chris is another half block ahead of me, and the rain is torture. I swipe the water clinging to my face, as if that will really help. I blink again and panic when I can’t ind Chris. One minute he was in front of me, the next he is out of sight. Panic assails me, and my heart jackhammers. Thunder crashes above me and I nearly jump out of my skin, but I keep running.

At the end of the street I scan wildly in all directions and cut left, the path without a street to cross and the logical choice, praying it’s the right one. I’m another block down, doubting I’ve chosen correctly, when a swinging gate catches my attention and instinct stops me in my tracks.

Cutting around the corner, I see a small, deserted court-yard and gasp as I discover Chris and the pickpocket in a physical scramble. My ingers curl around the metal gate and I barely contain a scream as Chris is shoved against the wall and punched in the face. A second later, the pickpocket is against the same wall and I watch as Chris throws a blow himself, followed by another. And he does it with his painting hand.

I don’t think; I just act, running toward them. I have to save his hand. “No!”