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In the seat beside me on the way, Simona’s intensely serious. I reach for her hand. The tips of her fingers are cool. “You okay?”
“I can’t imagine who I’m about to meet.”
“Don’t overthink it.”
She chuckles. “Impossible. I’m the queen of analyzing. Speaking of, did you see the way Josef was looking at us?”
I laugh. “Us? You mean looking at me like I’d done something to his baby girl?”
Her lips press together to cover her smile. “He kind of was looking at you like he might throw you into the cell in his basement.”
I do a double take.
She bursts out laughing. “You should see your expression.”
“That’s another first I don’t want to have today.”
“Well, I think I’m getting the next mind-bender—Meeting someone who might be my brother.”
CHAPTER FORTY
After arriving in England, it takes less than a half hour to reach the hotel where we are supposed to meet Mako and this stranger, Wolf Black.
But I swear the drive has never felt longer.
Scotch parks our new rental car in the small lot next to the slender brick building. He catches me for a quick kiss. “You’re going to wear a hole in your jeans if you keep rubbing your palms on your thighs.”
“It’s ridiculous, I know.”
He opens my door and I hop from the car, eager to get on with this. Scotch catches up to me and grabs my hand, which he holds firmly as we cross the lot and enter the small lobby. As if I might try to get away again.
I can’t help feeling squirrelly. I always took off when trouble reared up. That kept me safe and alive for all of my life.
The lobby is quiet. It’s early morning and only the staff are around. No one looks twice when we take the stairs to the second floor. Scotch lightly knocks on the door to room 203.
I nearly chew my lip in half while we wait. Holy smokes. It feels like the twilight zone.
Mako’s eyes have deep shadows under them when he opens the door. He motions us inside with a tilt of his head. “Come on in.”
I draw a deep breath as I step around him. Here we go. Without hesitation, I stalk into the small hotel room.
Sitting on the foot of the bed at the far side of the room is a young, lean, dark blond man. When he turns to face me, I’m struck frozen like I’ve been locked inside a block of concrete.
This man is a male version of me.
Same high cheekbones. Same slender nose. Same arch to our brows. His hair is a few shades darker. But otherwise, we look damned close to the same.
He stands up. The man is tall. Way taller than me. He’s muscular with a sharp, knowing gaze, the same color as mine. Slowly, he looks me over. His English is clear with just a slight hint of some undetermined Eastern European accent. “What the bloody hell?”
“Things just got weird,” I reply roughly.
He shakes his head with his expression clearly one of disbelief. “Mother of god. It’s like I’m looking in a mirror. Well, sort of. If I was a crossdressing little sprite of a thing. I heard you have the same birthmark.”
“Geez. That was a mouthful. And apparently, we do have the same birthmark.”
He turns his cheek toward me, taps his finger above the five o’clock shadow. I step closer for a look. There, in damn near the same spot as mine, is a mark that’s so close to mine it’s eerie. We both bear the same moon shaped birthmark without a doubt.
I can’t hold back the “eeep” that forms in my throat.
