Page 19 of Delta

"My apologies, miss, but where are your shoes?"

I grimace. "I, um…lost them. Long story."

"Will you wait here, please?"

"Sure?"

He scurries off, returning a few minutes later with a pair of Ugg boots, the calf-height tan ones with the fuzzy insides. "Perhaps these will not fit, but it is better than no shoes in this cold, ja?"

I've been trying to pretend I'm not freezing my ass off, but the moment I slide my feet into the boots, a moan of relief shoots out of me unbidden. "Oh…my…god." I cover my face, embarrassingly close to crying from sheer relief. "Thank you, god, thank you so much. Where…where did you get them?"

"The lost and find. People lose things on the trains very much." He shrugs. "You will be frost bited without shoes."

"You're a lifesaver. Thank you."

He nods and continues on his way. People are so friendly and helpful around here. I guess there are good people in the world still, after all. Who knew?

The boots are too small, but far better than being barefoot. I hear a radio crackle somewhere and a voice murmur quietly. Shit—cops.

I put my arms through the sleeves of Gregor's coat and head for the exit, passing by no fewer than six uniformed officers; I guess my stunt got some attention.

I stuff my hands into the coat pockets, duck my head, and walk calmly out of the train station and into the cold of Berlin.

Twelve hours?

It was…two am? Around two in the morning when I encountered the kidnappers in Zermatt. So at some point along the way, I lost several hours. They must have kept me unconscious for a long time. The better to keep me cooperative, probably. They likely pretended we were their passed-out-drunk girlfriends. Who would question that?

So, now I'm alone in Berlin. I have shoes and some cash, but no phone, no ID, and I’ve killed two men. I couldn't say whether the cops will be looking for me, but I'm not eager to find out. I didn't do anything wrong—I defended myself. But I also know that in situations like this, it's best not to trust anyone. The first order of business is to find a phone and get ahold of my parents. Shit, even a computer cafe would work.

I'd just sort of walked away from the train station at random, putting distance between me and the police who will be looking for whoever killed the two men on the train.

I wonder what happened to the girl? I can't go back for her. I can't worry about her. I'm not a religious person, but I send up a generic prayer to whoever and whatever may or may not be up there—look after the poor girl. God knows she'll need help after what she went through.

What I almost went through.

Fuck—nope. Nope, nope, nope. Not thinking about that.

Focus, Brynnie. Where are you? Where are you going? What's your plan?

I stop walking and assess my surroundings. Behind me, the train station is a massive glass edifice. Directly ahead, a street. Beyond that, train tracks, another street, and a tall glass building. The area, otherwise, is wide open, designed for a lot of foot traffic.

A bus whooshes by.

A taxi.

Shit—a taxi! I need to get away from the train station. I have no idea who those bozos were working for, but I know for a solid fact they weren't operating alone. They snatched the girl easily—if I hadn’t intervened, she would have just vanished without a trace. Those guys were just hired lackeys. "Him I work for, he is not afraid of your papa." Yeah, the boss is someone powerful, then, if that shitstain knew who my father is and felt confident saying his boss wasn't afraid of Nicholas Harris.

Everyone is afraid of Nicholas Harris. You'd be a fool not to be. So whoever the boss is, either he's a fool, or he's a big fucking problem.

Which means this ain't over. I mean, obviously. I'm still up shit creek without a paddle. But I can't assume there won't be anyone looking for me. Anyone bad, I mean. Hopefully, good people are looking for me, too.

I flag down a passing cab.

The driver eyes me in the mirror. "Wohin?"

“Um. I don't…I don’t know. I need clothes and a cell phone."

"No English."