Say It Again (First Wives, #5)(13)

His mouth went dry.

Her hair was pulled back in a single ponytail. Eyes framed with eyeliner she didn’t need and full lips painted red.

He ignored the stirring in his jeans and cleared his throat. “Where did you come from?”

“There’s more than one entrance.”

He glanced behind the bar. “You came in through the kitchen?”

“You must be new.”

AJ scooted his chair closer and tried to keep their conversation to just the two of them. “What’s your name?”

She lifted her chin, waited a beat. “You can call me Sasha.”

“Is that your name?”

“Sometimes.”

Damn, she was a piece of work. “I wasn’t sure you’d call.”

She looked at his glass, took her time moving those dark eyes to him. “What are you drinking?”

He pushed the warm beer aside. “Whatever you want.”

Sasha flagged down a waitress and ordered in German. AJ had no idea what.

Much as he liked to watch her, AJ wasn’t there on a social visit. “Did you find out—”

Sasha leaned forward and stopped his question by placing one long finger on his lips. Her eyes followed her fingertip as it slid off his lips and rested under his chin. She drew him close until their lips were a breath apart.

His entire frame tightened.

“First things first.” Her eyes looked at his lips. The tip of her tongue licked a tiny portion of her upper lip.

His cock stood at full attention and all the energy inside his brain traveled south. He’d seen this before. Smoky woman in a bar enticing a man . . . right before she slips his car keys or wallet into her purse. AJ was pretty sure he’d taught that move to a couple of his friends in Florida.

Only his car keys were in his front pocket, and his wallet was outside of Sasha’s reach.

She leaned back when the waitress set a bottle of vodka on the table with two glasses.

“You’re serious?” AJ asked, looking at the liquor and then her.

“I told you I was thirsty.” She opened the bottle and poured a generous portion into each glass. “Cheers.”

“I didn’t come here to get drunk.”

Sasha picked up the glass. “Then don’t.” She finished her drink with one swallow.

He picked up the drink and followed her lead. The liquid burned the back of his throat like a trail of fire.

For the first time, she smiled. “What I need to know, Alex, is if you simply got better at breaking the rules or if you stopped breaking them altogether.”

AJ cleared his throat. “You looked me up.”

“A stranger goes out of his way to follow me home under the guise of concern for his family and I’m supposed to take his word as gospel? Of course I looked you up.”

He supposed when she put it like that . . . “Both. I got better, and then stopped.”

She poured another shot for each of them, took her time sipping her second round. “Why don’t I believe you?”

“Which part . . . better or stopped?”

She kept silent.

“I got caught. And since my goal had been to gain the attention of my father, and that was never going to happen unless I followed his political path, I decided to follow the rules.”

“Your dedication to your version of the truth is admirable.” Her accent hit every r a little harder. She was calling him a liar in the best possible way.

AJ sat back in his chair, lifted the vodka to his lips. He knew damn well his day job hadn’t followed him to Europe, or anywhere, for that matter.

Sasha was speculating.

“Your father, Alex Senior. US ambassador to Germany back when Amelia was at Richter.”

“You did look into her.”

“I looked into you. I knew Amelia. Remembered why she was at Richter to begin with.”

Now they were getting somewhere. “She was killed as an adult. There shouldn’t have been any threat for her safety, especially after my father left Germany and took a position on the Democratic campaign trail.”

“Political affiliations are always targets.”

“For my father, maybe, but not his adult daughter working with the UN . . .”

Noise from a nearby party grew louder.

“Executions of political families receive plenty of police attention. What do you think you can do or find out that they can’t?”

“They aren’t looking here. One death in Europe six weeks ago and Amelia’s one month ago. They said they aren’t related.”

Sasha put back another shot of vodka, looked at his glass.

He wasn’t sure of the test she was giving, but holding his liquor came easy. They finished their second round and poured a third.

She leaned forward, wiped her bottom lip with her thumb. “You were caught stealing your neighbor’s car. Maybe someone was angry at you for taking something that didn’t belong to you.”

So they were back to him. “I was a minor.”

“You’re not a minor now.”

He expected the same questions from the police, only they never happened. That was how good he was at what he did.

The fact Sasha knew about his record proved she was good at what she did.

“This isn’t about me.” He’d run through that idea so many times his nose bled.