21My body went stiff. I forced myself to move my gaze to the opaque window in front of me. To gaze anywhere but at the man in the business suit, the man with two fingers missing from his biscuit-colored hand. His dark hair was long, expensively styled instead of cropped into a black cap. Yet, I was sure he was the same man who’d tracked me in Warsaw. The terrorists had other cars besides the Lada. Telecommunications, too. Nazer had been trickier than I had.
I made my pale hand lift the bread crust to my mouth. I felt a different hand on my shoulder. Long fingers I recognized.
Stefan bent his head to mine, as though kissing my cheek. He whispered, “Act happy I have arrived.”
I tilted my head and smiled. My whisper was a puff of air. “Nazer—”
“I know.” He grinned broadly and dropped into
