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She had no choice but to trust Alex.
‘Okay.’
He squeezed her hand, his lips twitching into a smile, almost. It felt as though their truce had been reinstated, and perhaps strengthened.
Sarah reached for her baguette, unwrapping the sandwich and digging in.
‘So, how exactly does this work?’ she asked between mouthfuls. ‘I mean, you seem to have these contacts and money stashed all over the place.’
Alex eyed her over his cup of coffee. ‘I knew I’d need to hide out until the heat died down once I got out of Australia. So, I started making enquiries.’ He took a bite of his baguette before continuing. ‘I decided to come to Europe.’ He glanced up at her, looking sheepish.
Sarah raised an eyebrow, hiding her smile behind her coffee cup.
‘I found people who could get me passports, visas, weapons and safe places to stay. I had money and I started shifting it overseas.’ He shrugged. ‘For a price, there are people who can get you anything you need, including anonymity.’
‘Like Mick,’ said Sarah.
He nodded. ‘Yeah, Mick organized the hotel in Rotterdam, and the safe house we’re headed to now.’
‘Where exactly are we going?’
Alex sat back in his chair, surveilling the tables close to them before he answered. ‘Beaune.’
Sarah had never been there.
‘It’s small but touristy,’ Alex explained. ‘Easy to spot a group of bikers if they manage to track us down.’
‘How do you know it’s safe, this place Mick has set up?’
‘I don’t, not for sure. But the man has made his living on being able to make this stuff happen.’
It seemed to Sarah they were putting an awful lot of faith in Mick.
‘How do you know he won’t tell The Devils or the police where we are?’
‘Because he would lose everything—his business, his reputation.’ Alex gulped the last of his coffee. ‘There’s a code, I know it sounds dumb. But there is. Besides, I made sure none of these people have any contact with my old life. No one would know to look for Mick in the first place.’
‘Okay,’ she said. That made sense.
‘You want anything else?’ He rose to his feet. ‘I think I’m going to get one of those pastries for the train.’
Sarah shook her head and rose too. ‘We’ve got fifteen more minutes before the train. I’m just going outside to breathe in the Parisian air.’
Sarah walked outside, the bag of their meager possessions slung over her shoulder, onto the concrete steps and down into the street. She inhaled the cold air. Paris always smelled clean to her.
Suddenly, a hand gripped her arm and drunken fumes filled the space in front of her face as a man said something to her in a language she couldn’t understand. Panic overtook her senses. She stepped away and tried to snatch her arm back, but his grip was ironclad. The man spoke again.
‘I don’t understand,’ she tried to twist her arm away. Desperately, she looked behind, afraid to find a gun jammed into her ribs again. The man seemed to be alone, but he wasn’t letting her go.
‘Money. You give money.’ His words were heavily accented.
‘No. Leave me alone.’ Sarah tried to twist around to see if Alex was coming, her legs turning to jelly.
The man stumbled against her. His breath reeked of alcohol, and for a moment her father’s face flashed before her. Her heart hammered against her chest, and black spots danced before her eyes. It was early evening, there were people everywhere. Why wouldn’t anyone help her? Was she invisible?
‘No!’ She tried to shout but choked on the words. ‘Leave me alone.’
A force like a raging bull rushed by her, hitting the assailant with enough power to send him skidding away from Sarah and release the grip on her arm. The man staggered and fell, not seeming to know how he got on the ground or how to get back on his feet.
