Say It Again (First Wives, #5)(36)

AJ sat next to the window and was doing a pretty good job of taking orders even when she hadn’t given him very much information.

“Is she linked to my sister?” AJ asked.

“No.”

“Then why is she here?”

Sasha looked around, didn’t notice anyone with eyes on them. “She stumbled upon a conversation that might result in a less than favorable way of life.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Later, AJ. Believe me, I don’t want the extra responsibility any more than you. But I couldn’t leave her there.”

He leaned into her as if he had the right. “You don’t seem the maternal type.”

Sasha shoved him off. “Younger sister at best.”

She knew the minute she said sister, she’d picked the wrong choice of words. AJ’s smile fell.

“At least you understand the need to protect someone.” He turned to stare out the window.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

He looked deep in her eyes. “You’re a lone wolf. From your own admission, you don’t play well with others. In my experience, people like you aren’t loyal to a cause that isn’t their own.”

“If that were so, why am I helping you?”

“Because that school is the link, and therefore personal.”

She opened her mouth to respond.

He cut her off before she could utter one word.

“And you love the chase.”

“Excuse me?” She glared at him.

He looked at her wig, touched the edge of her sweater. “All of this. You shine when you’re snapping orders and taking charge. There’s a light in your eyes that isn’t dimmed by the sunglasses covering your face.”

“It’s called concentration.”

“It’s called excitement. Almost the same as the charge you get when you see someone across a crowded bar and the air snaps.”

His words brought her to the moment she noticed him watching her at Brigitte’s choice of pubs.

AJ’s gaze fell to her lips.

That snapping charge he spoke of zapped attention straight to her breasts.

Sasha wanted to slap them as if they were disobedient children.

She looked away.

AJ shifted in his seat and stood. “I’m going to use the little boys’ room.”

She scooted her legs and let him pass, happy to have him out of her air so she could calm down.

No sooner did he leave than Claire jumped from her seat to the vacant one beside Sasha.

“So, what’s his story?” Claire asked.

“That’s not your concern.”

Claire watched him as he disappeared down the car and pushed past the doors leading to the bathrooms. “He’s into you.”

Instead of pushing the girl’s observations aside, Sasha met them head-on. “Of course he is . . . look at me.”

Claire started to laugh until Sasha felt her gut laughing with her.

“I wish I had an ounce of your confidence.”

“You have plenty. Don’t worry.”

Their laughter faded and Claire’s lips pressed together. “Do you think they know I’m gone by now?”

“I’d be disappointed if they didn’t.”

“She’s going to look for me.”

“Probably.”

“She’ll want to drag me back.”

Sasha placed a hand on Claire’s arm. Even for her, the gesture felt awkward. “You’re eighteen. She can’t make you.”

“I know what the rules are. I just have this feeling in here”—Claire pointed to her stomach—“that they aren’t going to let me go quietly.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I just do. I’m paranoid, I guess.”

Sasha released a long breath, leaned close, and lowered her voice. “Get past that. Border agents everywhere clue in to nervous travelers. It makes them look twice. You’re just another teenager backpacking through Europe. Make up a pretend itinerary and keep your story consistent. Leave Berlin out of the mix.”

“I can do that.”

“Good. Now go back to your seat and work on your story.”

Claire stood.

“Keep it simple.”



Amsterdam was a whole lot like Vegas, minus the casinos and flashy lights. The boardwalks were littered with people, even after the sun set and the temperatures started to drop. The number of sex shops on every corner corresponded with the number of pot shops . . . or coffee shops, as they called them. Although coffee wasn’t on the menu. Well, it was, but that’s not what these places were known for selling.

AJ assumed the lax attitude and acceptance of this alternative lifestyle lent itself to being a place where Sasha could obtain a phony passport in record time.

Sure enough, after grabbing a bite to eat deeper in town, they returned to the train station, where Sasha asked them to hold back in the off chance the passport exchange was being watched. Even in Amsterdam, obtaining fake passports was illegal.

Several yards away, AJ watched and attempted to calm his nerves when the handoff happened. A completely chauvinistic male part of him said he should be the one making the exchange. He didn’t like Sasha putting herself out there. AJ would ask himself why later . . . right now he felt his heart squeeze in his chest with anxiety. He kept his eyes peeled to see if anyone else noticed a thing. But between the bicycles rushing by and the noise of the party crowd settling in for a long night, no one cared to even glance at Sasha and the twentysomething who handed her the papers.