PAULINA ROSTAKOVA’S ADVENTURES
AUGUST 9
5:55 a.m.
Warsaw, Poland
There are times when I’m surprised we’re still alive. Then there are times when I’m convinced we’re immortal. Fortunately, the latter isn’t my normal state of mind. Although I did have to admit that I was filled with nothing but admiration for Dixon after he’d disabled the men Dad had engaged to put the fear of god in me.
“That man was on the ground again!” I yelled when we bounced over the edge of the curb and onto the street outside the Moscow hotel. “You beat the crap out of him, didn’t you?”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Dixon answered, popping up from the floor of the backseat, where he’d been thrown when I gunned the car and crashed through the parking lot barrier. He looked back, his hair ruffled in the breeze. “We’re g
