Say It Again (First Wives, #5)(34)

Chapter Thirteen



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.