44
Peter
I expect Interpol agents to jump out of the car, but instead, I see a man dressed all in black.
“Anton!” I stand up and wave, letting him see me. He spins around, relief breaking out on his bearded face.
“Get in!” he shouts, jabbing his thumb at the car. “We have to go.”
Sara is already on her feet next to me, and I grab her hand as I half run, half limp toward Anton’s SUV. My calf burns like hell, and I feel like I tore some stitches in my side, but none of that matters.
Anton doesn’t panic easily, and he looks more than a little on edge.
He jumps back in behind the wheel as we reach the car, and I throw myself into the back seat, gritting my teeth against a wave of pain. Sara climbs in beside me, and we peel out of the parking lot before she even closes the door.
“Yan an
