Say It Again (First Wives, #5)(8)

“No one at the school will answer my questions. Amelia was an analyst for the UN. Dead from three bullets is not how she should have left this world.” Just reciting how his sister was found made his heart ache and his fists clench.

Something passed over the woman’s eyes. Hesitation, concern . . . AJ wasn’t sure which.

“Go to your embassy.” She lifted her helmet again.

“It didn’t happen here.” He lifted a hand down the deserted street. “She was murdered in Washington, DC. The authorities have nothing. Not one lead. Three weeks ago I found a connection to Richter.”

Sex Kitten narrowed her eyes. “What kind of connection?”

“One of her classmates died when someone shot holes in her tires while going around a curved road on the side of a cliff six weeks ago.”

“Sounds like a coincidence, not a connection. People make enemies.”

“Not my sister. Everyone liked her. Are you faculty at Richter?”

She didn’t answer.

“A visitor?” Richter didn’t entertain visitors. They didn’t let him past the gates without an escort to and from the headmistress’s office.

She kept silent.

“Alumni?”

No emotion, not one speck of light, shifted on her face, but he was fairly certain he’d hit her association to the school.

“Two young women a half a world apart murdered within the same month. Both went to this school. A place I know damn well doesn’t just teach reading and writing. Amelia knew better than to mess with anyone that would kill. Like anyone from Richter.” He ran a hand through his hair before dropping his palm to the stubble on his chin.

“I’m sorry for your loss, but I can’t—”

“No,” AJ almost yelled, emotion choking in the back of his throat. “You can help. Maybe you don’t want to. But don’t tell me you can’t.” He took a couple of steps closer.

She stiffened.

With slow movements, AJ reached for his wallet. “I’m just getting a card,” he told her as he carefully did just that.

The woman in front of him held her ground, like a cat watching a circling dog.

AJ approached with his card dangling from his fingertips. “Lodovica wouldn’t talk to me outside of offering her condolences. The police have zero leads. Her name was Amelia Hofmann.” He waved the card. “Take it.”

She hesitated.

“Do you have siblings?”

She didn’t answer, but something flashed on her face.

His heart sped in his chest. “If they suddenly ended up dead, wouldn’t you want to know why? I didn’t protect her.”

Catwoman lifted her gloved hand and took the card.

For the first time in weeks, his voice grew husky with emotion. “I’ll be back at the pub tomorrow night.”

“I make no promises,” she told him before tucking her head into her helmet and swinging one leg over the bike.

Two seconds later the night air roared with her engine and all the sounds of wildlife stopped.





Chapter Four



Hofmann, Amelia Hofmann.

Not only did Sasha know the name, she could picture the girl. Pixie short hair with lips many women paid for. Stocky. Amelia Hofmann wasn’t a thin girl, and it showed in her efforts in the obstacle courses Richter put them through every week. Amelia was only a year younger than Sasha, and the memory of her stuck out because Sasha would often push her to move faster and train harder. She wouldn’t say they had been friends, but they hadn’t been enemies.

Then again, Sasha hadn’t fostered friendships at Richter, nothing lasting.

She didn’t foster friendships anywhere. She wasn’t sure if she could classify Reed in the friendship pool. Colleague, confidant . . . someone she could count on.

She shivered.

Sasha lay on her bed. The open window allowed the cool night air to filter into the room. The card AJ had placed in her hand had just a phone number. No name.

She recited the number several times, committing it to memory, and then reached into her bag and removed a lighter.

In her private bathroom, she flicked the lighter to life. Flames licked up the single card until it was too hot to hold. Once it was all but ashes, Sasha turned on the water and removed the black soot from the white porcelain sink.

AJ’s words echoed in her head. “Do you have siblings? If they suddenly ended up dead, wouldn’t you want to know why?”

She thought of the brother she never had a chance to know. When Fedor had ended up dead, she’d stopped at nothing to find out why. Their biological father had killed him. Nearly killed her, too.

She was robbed of the only blood relative she had.

Sasha didn’t want to care. Shuffled around from foster home to foster home, she didn’t root in anywhere nor with anyone before her years at Richter. Her entire life had been a series of disappointments, especially when she thought she could depend on someone other than herself. Her life had taught her to depend on no one.

Ever.

She had three phone numbers memorized. Reed, Trina, and now AJ.

Sasha looked at her reflection in the mirror. Hands poised on the edges of the counter while water ran down the drain. Long sheets of black hair framed her face in a sight very few ever saw.

Dark eyes stared back at her.