Say It Again (First Wives, #5)(28)

“Richter doesn’t stop you from having a family.”

“No. My lifestyle has made that harder than it could be. But unlike what the religious conservatives out there think, being a lesbian isn’t a choice.”

Sasha considered the people she did have in her life, as distant as she kept them, and realized that she wouldn’t want to cut them out for a job she didn’t financially need. What if Reed needed her help, or Trina found trouble with one of her famous husband’s fans?

“So I tell Pohl I’m not interested.”

Brigitte bit off a piece of a baby carrot. “He isn’t used to rejection.”

“He can’t make me take a job.”

Brigitte’s smile met with Sasha’s. She served up the salad in two bowls and handed one to her. “Be sure and tell him that.”

Sasha took her salad and wine and moved to the table Brigitte had in the dining room. It was her turn to ask a few questions. “I’ve been trying to find a few of my classmates and haven’t been having a lot of luck. Linette had alluded to the fact that some of our alumni went on to highly secretive jobs, which would account for some.”

“Those that were like you. Apt in all the physical challenges Richter put you through as well as those computer skills you so effectively used while attending the school.” Brigitte was grinning.

Sasha played with her salad. “What if I told you I found an unusual amount of students who have died?”

Brigitte lost her smile. “If they worked for people like Pohl, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Double agents, spies in general . . . that made sense.

“And if they didn’t?”

Brigitte set her fork down. “How many are we talking?”

“Three that I’ve found so far.”

Brigitte shook her head. “Linette has a great way of closing off if she feels her security is threatened. Anything that happens outside the walls of Richter is not something she’s interested in. An investigation would lead to all kinds of trouble.”

“If people are dying—”

“I’m not saying it’s right. Just that it is. This is why you’re poring over the yearbooks.”

Sasha pressed her fork into her salad, brought it up to her mouth. “It started out searching for memories. Trying to recapture some of the fire you have when you’re young and stupid enough to believe anything is possible.”

“And you stumbled upon something else entirely.”

“I did. I’m not a big believer in coincidence. Although these deaths may be unrelated.”

“Your gut says otherwise.”

Sasha nodded. “It does.”

“I don’t know anyone more qualified to find a connection than you.”

Sasha took a bite, swallowed it down with the wine. “Wouldn’t Linette be telling you to stop me from looking?”

“Maybe. I’m not her.”

Which was a big reason why Sasha trusted Brigitte with the basic facts she’d found out.



An hour later she was astride her motorcycle and buzzing back to Richter. A few miles away, she stopped at a fuel station and called AJ.

“About damn time you called.”

It wasn’t often she was cussed at over the phone. “How do you like the Harrison estate?”

“I wouldn’t know. I’m in the Hilton in Berlin.”

Sasha topped off the gas and returned the nozzle to its holding space. “Didn’t Reed contact you?”

“I don’t take orders, Sasha.”

She glanced around the deserted gas station. “I’m working on intel. I need you to keep low. London is perfect—”

“When you leave, I’ll go with you to London. Otherwise I’m here.”

“Why are you being difficult?” He wasn’t safe in Germany. She didn’t know what bugged the shit out of her more . . . the fact he wasn’t taking orders or the fact that she cared for his safety.

“I’m not leaving now that I know I’m right. I’m not walking away.” His defiance wasn’t expected.

“We don’t know you’re—”

“Listen, sweetheart—”

Sweetheart? “I bust noses for that comment.”

“Do you like Sex on a Stick better?”

She glanced down at her black pants, her leather jacket. A slight smile helped ease the tension in her neck.

Yeah, she did.

“Fine. Stay in Berlin, but don’t go around asking questions. Use secure networks. I have names for you. Do you have a pen?”

“Go for it.”

She told him half a dozen more names she’d found in the yearbooks and encouraged him to notify Reed.

“I don’t like the idea of you being at that school, poking around,” he told her.

“There isn’t a safer school in a first world country.”

“Richter alumni are turning up dead,” he said, as if he cared for her well-being.

“Do I give you the impression I can’t take care of myself?”

“You give me the impression that you trust too easily behind those walls. When I confronted Lodovica, I had the distinct feeling she was hiding something.”

“She’s protecting the school,” Sasha defended the woman, half-heartedly.