Page 13 of Delta (Alpha #12)

Thirty minutes later, I'm properly dressed in a pair of jeans, thick wool socks, warm, comfortable boots, a decent sports bra, a long-sleeve white T-shirt, a thick fleece pullover, and a top-of-the-line shell jacket.

Rush insisted on paying, and I let him—keeping the fact that I do have some cash stuffed in my bra to myself just seems prudent.

He seems like a decent guy, and he did save my life, but I don't fully trust him just yet.

Girl's gotta have a few secrets, after all.

It feels amazing to be properly attired, finally.

It's only when I huddle into the jacket as we exit the department store that I realize how cold I'd been—I think I’d sort of disassociated from my body, to be honest. I get that from Mom—she can just sort of…

turn off her physical needs. And so can I, apparently.

Because I'm shivering and chattering, now.

Rush notices. "You weren't acting cold at all when you were wearing a whole lot of not much, but now that I buy a thousand euros worth of warm kit, you're shiverin'?" He laughs. "You don't make no sense, love."

"I think I was in denial, actually. Or maybe just on the verge of hypothermia. I don't know." I look around—we're on the outskirts of Berlin, now, away from the bustle of downtown. "Now what?"

"We get out of Berlin. Maybe out of Germany altogether."

I consider my options.

Stay with Rush, trust him to help me to safety?

What if he's not safe? He saved my life and killed four men doing it.

He's bought me food and clothing, and while he's the very definition of rough around the edges, he seems like a decent sort.

He's got secrets, and he's definitely no angel, but I don't get the sense that he's evil. That's option one—stick with Rush.

Option two? Go it alone. Find a train station and get a ticket for Zermatt.

But without an ID, can I even get a ticket?

Especially since I'd be crossing international borders from Germany to Switzerland.

This feels risky and problematic. What if the kidnappers are still after me?

I have to assume they are. I killed two of their men, and Rush killed four.

It doesn't seem likely that they'd just let that go.

I can't see myself capping dudes like Rush did.

I mean, shit—I froze when I had the chance.

I froze, and now look where I am. So yeah, this is probably not my best option.

Three…go to the authorities. Have Rush take me to the US Embassy and throw myself at their mercy.

They'd send up a flare to my parents, metaphorically speaking, and I'd be home within hours.

Knowing Dad, he'd land his Harrier on the front lawn of the embassy.

But something about this niggles at me, too.

I have to look hard at myself to figure out what it is.

I don't trust the authorities. I guess I've grown up hearing stories about what Mom, Dad, Auntie Key, and Uncle Val went through, how authority figures are so often compromised by bad men with too much money and influence.

What if I show up at the embassy and the motherfucker running the human trafficking ring that I'm messed up with has paid off someone in the embassy, and I end up right back in his clutches?

There's no way to know either way, but the spectre of the "what if" makes me leery.

"Thinkin' deep thoughts over there, ‘ey?" Rush's voice shakes me out of my thoughts.

"Oh, yeah, I guess so. Just trying to figure out my next steps.

Where to go, what to do." I look at him.

"It's hard to know who to trust. I don't know you, but you've been nice so far, and you did murder four men on my behalf.

I was thinking I could go to the police or the embassy, but if these traffickers are bold enough to snatch girls right out of a nightclub, it feels like they're connected enough or powerful enough to feel like they can get away with it.

And honestly, they did. They just didn't factor in me sticking my big nose into their business. "

“Yeah, I don't think I'd trust the police or the embassy.

Those sorts are easy enough to buy, and you're right.

The blokes who were after you were gonna haul you right off the street in broad daylight.

Speaks to what you said—they feel confident they can get away with it.

" He looks at me. "Maybe it's about time you filled in the gaps of what happened. "

I regard him. "But that means my only choice is to trust you to keep me safe. I can handle myself to a degree, but…" I shrug, embarrassed to admit that I froze, especially to an elite operator like Rush.

"But what?"

"I froze," I mumble.

"Everyone freezes at some point," he says. "But if you've got the sand for the job, then it only happens once. You feel like a shit, y'know? Like, ‘fuck, I fuckin' froze. I had one job, and I fuckin' froze.’ Yeah nah, mate. You only freeze once." He shrugs. "That, or you die."

I cackle. "Wow, that's so comforting."

Once again, it seems like we're just aimlessly strolling. His head is on a swivel, though, and I can tell he's alert. But…where are we going? I get my answer a few minutes later when we reach a bus stop, and he sits on the bench to wait.

"C'mon.Ttell me about it." He nudges my leg with his; when I hesitate, he sighs. "Fine, how's about this? We’ll trade. You tell me how you ended up in Berlin, and I'll tell you about the time I froze. And spoiler alert, I wasn't a rookie when it happened, neither."

I suppose it can't hurt, can it? There may be a few details I’ll keep to myself—such as who my parents are, and my relationship to Auntie Key and Uncle Val—people get weird when they find out your found-family aunt and uncle are the richest human beings on the planet, or that your parents are… well, who my parents are.

But the rest is fair game.

And Rush is a surprisingly good listener.

Which is hot. But then, there's not much about him that isn’t problematically, distractingly, absurdly sexy.