Say It Again (First Wives, #5)(87)

Sasha heard at least two of the men sigh.

“On one condition.”

“Name it,” Neil told her.

“I go out with you tonight. Part of the team.”

“Out of the question.”

Olivia faced off to Neil. The man towered over her, outweighed her by a hundred pounds of sheer muscle, but she didn’t back down. “Then I won’t be here when you get back.”

“How do I know you won’t escape while we’re out?”

“You. Have. My. Word.” Each word was its own sentence, all humor on Olivia’s face gone.

Neil’s jaw twitched.

Sasha wasn’t sure she’d want the decision that was his to make. For what her opinion was worth, she believed Olivia would be there in the end. But trust needed time to be earned, and they hadn’t known her long enough to grant her that.

“You team with me,” Neil finally said.

Anxious looks moved around the room.

AJ took a giant step toward Olivia. “If you fuck this up.”

“I owe your sister.”

He tilted his head, clenched his fists. The tension in his frame called a warning in Sasha’s head.

She jumped up, moved between them. “Let’s take a walk.”





Chapter Thirty-One



“Wait up.” Sasha jogged after AJ as he stormed out of the room and down the hall.

He kept walking.

She doubled her steps to keep up. She got it. The need to move, the need to exercise emotion out of her system.

Her legs kept up with his. They marched through the warehouse, past the van that brought them there, and out the door. It was dark, a little after midnight in Berlin.

Cold air slapped her in the face.

She ignored it.

AJ turned, stopped. “My mother was on the board.”

Sasha kept her lips tight. Let him vent.

“She knew . . . she had to know about Pohl. Why? What the hell does she have to hide?”

“I don’t know, AJ. Maybe your mother didn’t have a choice. Stuck in a loop like Olivia and unable to get out.”

His nose flared. “My sister is dead. Nothing is worth that.”

“You’re making a lot of assumptions.”

“Am I? If my mother is on a rat wheel she can’t escape, then she has something to hide.”

She stepped in front of him, reached for his arm. “What if your mother was protecting you? Maybe someone got wind of your occupation?”

“It wasn’t an occupation when Amelia attended Richter.”

“Are you sure about that?”

AJ looked toward the sky, his eyes moving back and forth as if searching his memory for the answer. “No. Yes . . . I’m sure. Amelia was out of Richter and in college.”

“You mean to tell me you took a hiatus between the car you were caught stealing and the next?”

“Yes. I cased cars. Learned to open doors and hotwire them. Found blind buyers . . . I learned my trade long before I crossed the line. I wasn’t going to get caught. I didn’t get caught. I remember that first Christmas after Amelia was in college. I’d come off that first adrenaline high the Thanksgiving before. My sister was out of Richter. Dad was back in the States. My mother is guilty of something, protecting someone . . . but it wasn’t me.”

“We get through the next twenty-four hours and you can ask your mother every question running through your head.”

He shook his head. “None of her answers will matter.”

Sasha followed him when he turned. “I know about betrayal, AJ. My mother had me to blackmail my father and he killed her for it. The bruises on my neck lasted for weeks when he tried to put me in the ground. I’ve met your parents, and while they may not tell you everything, they don’t want to see you dead. Give this another day. We’ll confront her together.”

Their breath merged in the cold night. AJ reached for her, pulled her close.

The feel of his desperate arms around her was a life preserver.

For him.

For her.

She held on, leaned her cheek against his chest. Only when the brisk autumn air seeped into her soul did she say, “We have plans to make, Junior.”



Twice in a week.

AJ nudged his tie into place, looked in the mirror. “If I’m going to wear suits, I really need to purchase ones that fit.”

Sasha walked up behind him, smiled at their reflections in the mirror. She slid her arms around his waist. “I’m usually a leather and chains woman, but I like you in this.”

He twisted around and held her face in his hands. He leaned over and kissed her. She pulled at his heart.

Her lips followed his as he ended their kiss.

“Another time, Stick. We have something to do tonight.”

“You ready for this?”

“As much as I can be.”

Sasha removed two cuff links from a small bag. “This one”—she waved the decorative metal in her hand before she attached it in place—“is a microphone. We can hear you, but you cannot hear us.”

When she finished, she slid a tiny earpiece around her ear and secured it with an equally small clip into her hair. “It picks up voices within twelve inches.”

“That’s cool.”