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We cross the plaza, and I figure out how to reverse the charges to Nero in New York. My nerves are racing as I dial. I can only imagine what he’s been thinking since the plane disappeared.
It rings and rings. Just when I think he’s not going to answer, I hear a click and his gruff voice comes over the line. “Yeah?”
“Nero, it’s me. Avery.”
There’s a long pause. “Bullshit.” His voice is suddenly like steel.
Damn. Of course he’s not trusting at the best of times, but now? “It’s me, I swear it is,” I insist. “Look, I don’t have time, but… I know how you got that scar on your knee, the one from falling flat on your damn face after you stole your father’s whiskey when you were twelve.”
I hear Nero’s hiss of breath at the old memory. “Avery?” he says it again, disbelieving. “Holy shit, they said you were dead.”
“I almost was,” I reply, with a glance to where Sebastian is pacing near the booth. “I don’t have time to explain, but… I need help. We have to lay low until we can figure out who tried to kill Sebastian. Can you wire some money, and book a hotel? We’re in Zurich.”
“We…” Nero echoes. “You’re with Wolfe?”
“Yes.”
He doesn’t ask anything more, thank God. Just gives a brief promise not to blow our cover and hangs up. I knew he’d come through for me. He’s had his fair share of near-death experiences himself.
I step outside the booth and fill in Sebastian. “Nero’s organizing everything for us,” I tell him.
His lips twist, wry. “I figured he must be in on this. Let me guess, he threw that game of cards?”
I nod, wondering if he’s mad about my lies. But Sebastian just gives me a look. “I don’t like cheating. One of these days, I’m going to need a rematch.”
I almost laugh out loud at that. “Sure,” I reply. “You, me, and Nero Barretti can sit around a card table and catch up.”
Sebastian smiles back at me, too. Then the phone rings behind me and I go to answer. Nero has arranged a wire to a Western Union nearby, and a hotel in the central business district. “I booked it in your name,” he says. “I figure, Sebastian’s the only one splashed over the press right now.”
“Thanks.” I reply.
“Just be careful,” he warns me. “Whoever the hell is coming after Sebastian, they have deep pockets. Everyone’s bought the plane crash story, they all think you’re both dead.”
“Then hopefully, that will work in our favor. Nobody will be looking for us,” I say.
“Nobody would be looking foryou,” Nero corrects me. “Avery—”
“I’ve got to go,” I cut him off, before he says what I know he’s thinking. “Thank you, I’ll be careful. Talk soon.”
I hang up and rejoin Sebastian. We pick up the cash, then head to the hotel. “You should wait out here while I check in,” I tell him, glancing to the luxurious looking building. “They’re less likely to remember a woman traveling alone.”
He nods, and I head inside, Nero’s words echoing in my ears.
It’s Sebastian Wolfe the world knows—and hates. He could get recognized at any minute, and the people who tried to kill him with that explosion might come back to finish the job.
But me? I could slip away into the shadows and leave no trace behind. The Avery Carmichael I’ve been pretending to be these past months is just that: a fake. With a few keystrokes from Nero’s hacker contact, Charlie, I could disappear again, and nobody would ever know I survived.
But I wouldn’t be with Sebastian.
“Guten tag,” the doorman greets me, and I try to pull myself together as I step inside the lobby. It’s all gilt-edged and understated, just screaming money, so I try to look like I belong as I stride to the front desk and flash a smile.
“Room for Carmichael,” I say, “I believe my assistant made the reservation.”
The clerk searches the system. “Ah yes, we have you in the Rose suite. Will you be staying with us alone?”
“Yes,” I lie, and show him my passport, which I kept since the crash.
“Very good,” he nods, dealing with the paperwork. “You’re on the third floor. Do enjoy your stay.”
