Say It Again (First Wives, #5)(12)

Sasha flipped through the first few pages and found them.

The first birth certificate had her name as Sasha Budanov Petrov. Mother’s name Natasha Budanov, the father’s name was left blank. Her birthday was a year off. “I’m only twenty-eight?”

“Surprise.”

The second birth certificate had her name as simply Sasha Budanov. Father’s name was marked as unknown. The third and final certificate had changed her birthday by a year.

“Alice went through a lot of work to keep Petrov from learning about me.”

“He knew about you. He just assumed you ended up as a gutter rat somewhere. Alice went through great pains to keep you out of the government system and used a series of handpicked foster homes for you before finding Richter.”

“And all those years I thought I was sent to Richter because I ran away from those homes.”

Linette sat in one of the half dozen chairs in the center of the room. “You were, in part. Only Alice needed to keep you out of the public eye and, more importantly, away from your father. I knew she was going to employ you once you left here. It was her way of keeping an eye on you.”

“She hired me to protect her son and his new wife. I failed.”

“She hired you because she could no longer keep you locked up here at Richter. She made sure you were enrolled in every possible self-defense, firearms, agility, and investigative curriculum we offered. And when she felt you’d mastered what we had, she insisted that we find new instructors and new classes. We teach computer programing, but only a few students were in the advanced class that gave you the path to the back doors of computers.”

“You taught me to hack.”

Linette ticked her tongue. “You educated yourself on that skill. We simply showed you where the door was. You chose to open it. Not that we didn’t know exactly what you were doing with your new skills.”

“My pranks.”

“Your fine-tuned skills used for mischief . . . yes.”

Sasha rested her hands on her file. “I wasn’t the only one in those advanced classes.”

Linette tapped a finger on the table. “Some of our students went on to agencies that needed those types of skills.”

“You mean the government?” Sasha thought of Amelia Hofmann.

“There are government agencies all over the world.”

Sasha voiced what she’d always assumed. “Spies.”

Linette held all emotion in. No denial. No validation.

“I suppose that would explain why my search for some of my old classmates has come up empty.”

Linette placed a hand over Sasha’s file. “Names change. People get married.”

“People lie.”

“Something we’re all guilty of, I’m sure.”

Sasha flipped through her file and read through a list of accomplishments she’d achieved in the underground education at Richter. “I was an orphan, skilled, without any family. I would think my profile would have been one sought after.”

She looked up to see Linette smiling. “You were promised to return to Alice.”

“And therefore not recruited.”

“No job would have earned you what Alice set aside on your behalf. Financially, you’re much better off than most of your classmates.”

An understatement if there ever was one. Alice had set aside millions for Sasha. A bankroll she wasn’t even aware of until after the woman died.

“Money isn’t your motivator,” Linette said.

“Which is why I returned searching for something.”

Linette leaned forward. “And are you finding it?”

Sasha nodded, glancing around the locked room full of secrets. “I feel closer than I did yesterday.”

An hour later Sasha sent an encrypted text message to Reed, spelling out AJ Hofmann.



The bar was much busier than it had been the night before. AJ sat at the far end, nervously watching the door. He’d gotten a text from a number he didn’t recognize. He assumed it was her.

Hoped it was her.

The text had simply said I’m thirsty.

So there he sat, waiting for a woman who never gave him her name, while the beer in front of him grew warm.

He ran his fingers along the condensation on the glass, his nerves nothing but raw tentacles, exposed and jumping around in a state of madness. He’d been at a dead end going on two weeks, completely out of his element, sitting in a pub in Germany with very little of the language inside his brain. The police had rummaged through Amelia’s condo in their half-assed attempt at finding her killer. They questioned him and his parents about a trip that his sister had apparently planned to fly to London. Since Amelia flew for work all the time, he hadn’t thought much about it. When he took the time to look through his sister’s home, he found a calendar with the dates circled and the words Keri’s funeral in the center of the trip. That’s when he followed his gut and flew to Europe. He spent less than forty-eight hours in Wales, realized the common bond his sister had with Keri, and flew to Germany. He really should have gone to Richter with Amelia. Then he’d have a better chance at getting on the inside.

Only he hadn’t taken that opportunity.

The chair on his right scraped against the floor, drawing him out of his thoughts, and Sex on a Stick turned it around and straddled it like a man.