Say It Again (First Wives)

by Catherine Bybee

  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.

  She walked away after shaking the guy’s hand.

  “That looked way too easy,” AJ said once she was back by their side.

  “Money talks.”

  Sasha handed Claire the passport. “Your name is Crystal Smith. Your birthday was September ninth. You’re nineteen. Just remember nine, nine, nine.”

  “Got it.”

  They’d already bought tickets separately for the same train headed to London.

  “The train will stop in Brussels, and that is where we will need to get off the train and pass through immigration. From there, we spread out in line, meet up in the third coach car,” Sasha instructed. “Keep your cool, Crystal. If something goes wrong, I won’t get on that train. You’ll have to trust me to have your back.”

  Claire shrugged with attitude. “I got this.”

  Sasha grinned.

  “And me?”

  “You get your ass to London, call Reed.”

  “All this and I don’t even know why she is here and why we’re hiding like we’re the ones doing something wrong.”

  Claire looked at the two of them. “He doesn’t know about Creepazoid?”

  AJ shook his head. “I don’t. Who’s Creepazoid?”

  Sasha sucked in a breath.

  Claire kept talking. “Just a man who offered Sasha a job to kill people.”

  “What?” AJ asked.

  “This isn’t the place for this conversation.”

  AJ grabbed her arm. “We’re talking about this now.”

  It took every ounce of concentration to keep her arm still and not attract attention to them.

  She stepped into his personal space. “Do you like that hand?”

  His grip tightened. “You don’t scare me.”

  Claire backed up.

  “I should.”

  Their breaths mixed, eyes locked.

  “Ah, boys and girls. We have a train to catch.” Claire brought their attention to the present.

  Who knew that palms sweating was an actual thing?

  Breaking up the pending fight between Katniss and Peeta had been cute and all, but the first leg of their train ride, and disembarking from the train only to be shuffled through security checks and immigration, was nail-biting worthy.

  They had spread out per Sasha’s instructions, and Claire was two people away from having her fake passport checked.

  And yeah, her palms sweat.

  Border agents snif
f out fear.

  She tried to look bored.

  One more person.

  I’m going to throw up.

  The agent waved her over.

  She hiked her backpack over her shoulder and stepped up. She handed her passport and train ticket. “Hi,” she said.

  “Hello.” He looked at her picture and then her face. “Where are you going in the UK?”

  “London, then maybe Ireland. I haven’t decided yet.”

  He looked at her picture again, paused.

  Breathing became an effort.

  She was fairly certain the man could hear her heart beating.

  “Stay away from warm beer. Don’t let anyone tell you that’s the way to drink it,” he said with a wink.

  His hand reached for his stamp. Down it went on the passport, and he handed it back.

  “Thanks. I’ll remember that.”

  Oxygen left her head as she walked away, leaving her a little dizzy. She took a second to tuck her passport into her backpack and catch her breath . . . then headed to the platform in front of the third coach car.

  Sasha showed up next, kept her distance.

  AJ stood a few feet away, rocking back on his heels.

  She’d done it.

  Her smile grew until she was certain everyone on the platform could see it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  A car was waiting for them when they arrived in London.

  By car, he meant limousine.

  AJ wasn’t a stranger to luxury travel, but the accommodations they were taken to were something else. Even in the pitch-black of night, long past midnight, the silhouette of the estate Sasha had taken them to was impressive.

  “Who lives here?” Claire asked.

  “A friend.”

  AJ grabbed Sasha’s bag and started up the steps. “Some kind of friend.”

  The massive front door opened before they reached it.

  The man who opened the door filled it with broad shoulders and a thick neck.

  “Neil?”

  “Reed would have come, but—”

  “I didn’t request backup.” Sasha moved past AJ and Claire.

  “The fact you requested anything at all gives me a reason to be here.”

  Neil gave Sasha a stare that would intimidate the most hardened man.

  Not Sex on a Stick. She stared back, her chest rising and falling with short breaths.

  Claire brushed past AJ and straight up to the brick shithouse of a man. “I’m Claire.” She put her hand out.

  Neil stared at it.

  When he hesitated a moment too long, Claire reached out with her left hand, grabbed Neil’s right, and pushed his palm into hers. She shook it twice before letting go. “Nice to meet you, Neil,” she said.

  AJ bit his tongue to keep from laughing.

  Sasha shook her head and walked around Neil and into the house. “I’ll give you a briefing in twenty minutes.”

  “I’m AJ Hofmann.”

  “I know who you are,” Neil told him. Unlike with Claire, Neil put his hand out to shake.

  His grip proved what AJ had already determined. Neil was a whole lot of muscle behind his girth.

  “Thank you for having us.”

  Neil closed the door behind them.

  Sasha and Claire were following a woman in a maid’s uniform up the stairs.

  “Coffee or whiskey?” Neil asked.

  “Is that even a question? I’ve been traveling with the two of them all day.”

  AJ couldn’t say for sure if Neil smiled. But there was something in his eyes that passed as humor before he turned and led him into a den.

  Sasha joined them nineteen minutes later. She was prompt, AJ would give her that.

  She’d changed out of the wig and housewife sweater and slipped on a tank top that hugged her chest and abdomen like a good friend on a Saturday night. Upon entering the room, she crossed to the whiskey in the decanter and poured herself a drink.

  “Where’s Claire?”

  “Facedown in a bed.”

  AJ envied her.

  “What did Reed tell you?” Sasha asked Neil.

  “The basics. Hofmann is searching for his sister’s murderer, thinks it’s linked to your old school. The names you gave Reed have met with unfortunate dates with the grim reaper.”

  “You’ve seen the data?” she asked.

  “Everything Reed found.”

  “Your first impression?” Sasha sipped her drink.

  “There’s a link. I’m just not sure what yet.”

  Sasha moved to what looked like a small secretary desk and pulled out a drawer. From there she removed a Bluetooth keyboard and made a few keystrokes.

  What appeared to be a solid wall with paintings of family members peeled back to reveal a series of monitors from floor to ceiling.

  “Holy crap,” AJ muttered.

  Sasha slid a zip drive into the computer port after the wall revealed a second desk.

  A few more keystrokes and a series of pictures were brought up on the screen.

  “I took several pictures of the yearbooks from when Amelia Hofmann attended Richter. The group photos to help establish personal relationships. Senior photos with names.” She pressed another button and two pictures popped up. “Top left. This is the headmistress, Linette. She’s been in charge of Richter for as long as I remember.”

  “This is a current picture?” Neil asked.

  Sasha nodded. “I took all of these this week.”

  “Who is the guy in the suit?” AJ asked.

  “Geoff Pohl. Or Creepazoid, as Claire likes to call him.”

  “The businessman?” Neil asked.

  “Yes, but maybe with this picture, we can find something.”

  “I’ll get the team on it.”

  AJ sat forward. “Are you going to explain what Claire meant when she said this man offered you a job to kill?”

  Neil narrowed his eyes.

  Sasha slid a second drive into the computer. “It appears that Linette has some sort of arrangement with Pohl for him to interview students graduating from Richter for classified positions that require high marks in agility, self-defense, marksmanship, foreign languages, and computer skills.”

  “Covert operations . . . spies?” Neil asked.

  “That’s what I thought.” Sasha pressed play, and a male voice sounded through the speakers. “That’s Pohl.”

  They sat and listened to the conversation between Sasha and Pohl.

  AJ could hear the tension in Sasha’s voice when the man became condescending. Then when he said that his employer would do just about anything to obtain her services, Neil lifted a hand.

  “Back that up.”

  Sasha paused the recording, replayed it.

  “He’s threatening you,” Neil said.

  Sasha stopped the playback. “That’s what I got.”

  “Did I miss something?” AJ asked. “Sounded like he would offer her whatever she wanted.”

  Neil shook his head. “No, he said he would do anything to get her.” He looked at Sasha. “He alluded to others, but do we know who he works for?”

  “No idea.”

  Neil made little circular motions with his fingers.

  Right before Sasha’s voice left the recording, Neil had her stop the tape again.

  “What circumstances would need to change for you to take that job?” Neil asked.

  Sasha sat in a chair, pushed her feet out in front of her. “How do you get people to do something they don’t want to do?”

  “Pay them,” AJ suggested.

  “Sasha doesn’t need the money,” Neil said.

  “Blackmail.” Sasha sipped her drink.

  Neil sat in silence. AJ could see the wheels in the man’s head turning. “Does he have anything?”

  Sasha shook her head.

  “Then we’ll have to wait and see what he creates.”

  She reached for the computer again. “Point taken. And this is where Claire comes in. Richter does not
allow unsupervised computer access without firewalls to the outside. Cell phones are prohibited for the students. But when you teach intelligence to your elite students, they find a way. Claire helped me find the hidden upper-class computers that held the data from alumni . . . including me. Which was how I was able to record this conversation and the next one.”

  Once again, she pressed play.

  Pohl’s voice sounded once again.

  “She didn’t take the job.”

  A pause.

  “Did you really think she would? We move on to plan B. I already have things in motion.”

  Neil brushed the back of his hand to the side of his face.

  “That doesn’t sound good,” AJ stated the obvious.

  “Is there any more?” Neil asked.

  “I don’t know. This is the first time I heard the recording. Claire called me from the computer room to tell me my plan worked. I asked her to put it on a drive. I shouldn’t have involved her.”

  “Could you have obtained that without her help?” Neil asked.

  “Not without a few toys I didn’t bring with me.”

  “Then let it go.”

  “You just took Claire and left?” AJ asked. “That doesn’t sound like the school my sister went to.”

  Sasha rubbed her forehead. “She jumped the fence and found me. She indicated that she wanted to leave when I first met her. Illegally recording a message from a man employing hired guns gave her the excuse she needed.”

  “Smart,” Neil said. “How old is she?”

  “Eighteen. Richter has their senior class taking their first year in college, so that when and if they leave after they’re eighteen, they have a head start. The second Claire became of age, she could opt out and leave.”

  “So why run away?”

  “It wouldn’t be without an exit interview and a conversation with her benefactor,” Sasha explained.

  “You mean her parents?” Neil asked.

  “She’s an orphan. Like me.”

  AJ stop with his drink halfway to his lips. The way Sasha had revealed the personal information was so flippant it made his chest ache.

  Processing the information didn’t have a chance before the speakers crackled and voices filled the room.

  “How did it go?”

  “That’s Linette,” Sasha told them.