“I’m ready, the question is, Are you?” Sasha lifted her chin in good humor.
“You always were cocky.”
Brigitte directed her attention to her students. In the mix, Sasha noticed the kid she’d delivered a fair amount of humiliation to the first day she’d been back, and Claire, who bounced on the tips of her toes with untapped energy. “Listen up.” Brigitte demanded everyone’s attention. “You’ve been paired with the student who came in closest to you on our last run. The only way to be paired with someone faster and stronger is if you overtake a teammate on the last eight hundred meters. The rules have not changed. You will not sabotage anyone’s efforts. The goal here is for your best time, not you’re better because the front-runner was tripped. You will wait for your partner through the slippery wall and the vertical rope climb. Officials are watching.”
“And if our partner taps out?” one of her male students asked.
“Then you better hope someone is held up by their partner and lends you a hand, Mr. Norton.”
Brigitte stepped closer, spoke louder. “I want you tired, wet, muddy, scraped, and even a little bloody, but I want none of you broken. You are no good to anyone broken. Am I clear?”
A chorus of “Yes, Ms. Denenberg” came from the students.
“Are you really running with us?” one of the girls asked.
Brigitte glanced at Sasha. “Miss Budanov holds the record at Richter, and none of you have come close to it. She wants to see how her skills have held up in the years she’s been away.”
“It’s not her you should be worried about.” The comment came from Claire.
The other students made surprised sounds and took a step away from the girl.
Brigitte let the comment roll off her shoulders. “We shall see.”
Sasha and Brigitte took their places on the starting line. Timers pinned to their waistbands would keep track of their time at each point along the way. Much like those running a marathon, knowing your time between the miles always gave you a sense of your weaknesses and strengths.
A familiar buzz of excitement ran up Sasha’s spine. Not that she needed to prove herself to the students, or even her previous instructor . . . but to herself. She’d had many opportunities to run races like these since she left Richter. Each time she ran under an alias and never collected the participation medals. She competed for herself, not to win recognition, so when she found herself up on the competition, she purposely hung back. The last thing she needed to do was win one of the damn things and end up on a stage somewhere.
Here she could push herself, see if she truly did continue to hold the record.
Around her, partners bumped fists while others tossed barbs at their classmates.
Sasha leaned in close. “You know if we lag behind, you’ll never live it down.”
Brigitte narrowed her eyes. “You just move that skinny ass. I’ll take care of mine.”
A genuine laugh escaped Sasha’s throat.
With one of Brigitte’s instructors starting the race, a blank was fired in the air, and everyone took off running.
If there was a strategy to these kinds of things, it was to haul ass on the places you excelled to give yourself a little more time on the obstacles you struggled with. It was the team aspect of the race that held Sasha back. Speed and balance were her superpowers, with agility and strength as decent runners-up. Working a teammate up a wall, or more importantly, waiting for them to come around the bend, was a struggle.
Sasha hit the course hard and fast. Brigitte was with her, along with three other teams, each posturing for the first set of ropes.
She jumped high, tangled one leg around the thick rope, and pulled herself up the slippery length.
Making a point of not looking around, Sasha only took in the sounds of the others in the race. Someone slid down, cussing as he went, while the heavy breathing of others told her she wasn’t alone.
Once at the top of the rope, she heaved one hand onto the mesh of ropes she needed to master and climb on top of in order to get back onto the ground.
While her body was taking the ropes with ease, already Sasha felt the burn on her palms. The calluses she’d developed while in school had faded. Gloves were never an option at Richter. But she could sure use them right now.
Once her feet were on the ground, thoughts of her hands disappeared as she sprinted toward the next hurdle, a series of three-and-a-half-foot walls with pits of water on the other side. The goal was to launch herself off the wall and to the other side of the water pit or risk the wetness slowing her down. She’d nearly made all five of them, but the wet ground tripped up her landing and one leg went into the water.
Sasha cussed her slip but didn’t slow down.
Footsteps pounded around her, whose she didn’t know. She hoped one was Brigitte, because the slippery wall was up next.
The wall sat at a steep angle with a mud pit at the bottom. There was no way to avoid it. Sasha sprinted toward the wall.
Brigitte yelled from only a few feet behind her. “I’m right behind you.”
Sasha launched into the mud pit, each foot sledged through twice. She caught the first hand pull, found a solid spot to place her feet, and heaved up one more arm’s length before reaching down for Brigitte.
The older woman slapped her hand up Sasha’s forearm, and all her energy was spent pulling her up. It took both of them to get up the wall.
Two teams were right there with them, keeping pace.
At the top, the same mud that made it hard to get up the wall aided them in sliding down the other side.
And it was race time again. They crawled under barbwire and ate mud as they moved.
A long series of monkey bars strained every muscle and reminded Sasha she needed to spend more time on the face of a mountain. The rock climb, where if your partner was anywhere close, you gave them a hand.
Running in water, mud as it stood, since the rain was coming down in soft sheets.
Her muscles were screaming, heart pounding, and adrenaline washing through her with abandon. God, it felt good. The last obstacle was a vertical wall where a partner needed to give you a foothold and then grab you at the top. Then it was home free.
Sasha called behind her. “Brigitte?”
She heard footsteps but not a voice.
Sasha stopped at the wall, placed her back to it, and cupped her hands. If her partner was there, she’d jump right into them and climb up. Only Brigitte was several yards behind. Right on her heels was Claire. No sign of her partner.
Covered in mud, Brigitte stepped into Sasha’s hands and hurled herself up. The woman had more upper body strength than Sasha and took little time giving her the lift she needed to get on top of the wall.
Claire was on them, turning in search of her partner.
Brigitte looked at the crowd of kids coming. “I don’t see him.”
“Damn it!” Claire yelled.
Sasha and Brigitte looked at each other, and both reached down at the same time. “C’mon.”
Claire took a step back and jumped. They caught her arms and pulled her over.
Now the race really began.
Run the logs with a small guide rope for balance. A wall of tires, up one side and down the other, and if your arms hadn’t given out on you, the last section was a vertical rope draped over water that you needed to hang on, hand over hand, foot over foot, to reach the other side.
Then the final sprint.
She hit the ground and rolled after the final challenge and came up on her feet. Covered in mud and drenched in excitement, Sasha took off.
There were others close by. She was pretty sure Claire and Brigitte were in the mix but wasn’t about to look and find out. Not that she’d recognize anyone with just a glance at this point. With the finish line in view, Sasha pumped her arms harder, moved her legs faster. The second she crossed the line, the electronic scoreboard listed the names and times.
Sasha ran straight through the line, givi
ng her body several yards to slow down.
Her breath came in pants, her chest sucked in every breath with serious effort. If she wasn’t covered in mud, she’d be able to feel the sweat rolling off her, but the dirt kept that from happening. Around her, students were stopping, hands on knees, pats on backs.
She looked up, saw the finishing times.
She was nearly a minute and a half behind her best personal record.
Not bad.
The name that beat her was Claire, by less than a second. She stood in the crowd, accepting the praise of her classmates.
Brigitte came in third.
Times pinged on the board as the last of the kids crossed the line.
Breathing hard, Brigitte walked up to Claire and patted the girl on the back. “You PR’d by twenty seconds.”
She grinned ear to ear. “I’m stoked.”
Brigitte then turned to Sasha. “And I’m a little pissed you beat me.”
The class laughed.
Someone started clapping, a slow, steady noise.
Everyone turned toward the spectator.
A familiar tingle ran down Sasha’s back.
Mr. Pohl stood under an umbrella, a long coat covering what Sasha assumed was a suit. His dress shoes took on a fair share of mud.
“Well done, Miss Budanov.”
Her smile faded. “Thank you.”
“You’ve obviously not lost your touch.”
Brigitte walked past Sasha and stood in front of the man. “Mr. Pohl, how unexpected to see you out here.”
“I thought it was in everyone’s best interest that I stop in from time to time.” The man looked past Brigitte and focused on Claire. “And who is this rising star?”
“A high school senior,” Brigitte told him, not giving him an introduction. “She has a lot to learn.”
Geoff Pohl smiled and returned his focus to Sasha. “I’ll be in touch.”
He walked away.
Claire moved in behind them. “Who was that?”
Brigitte turned around, her smile a little too bright, her eyes too wide. “No one you need to know. Now go hit the gym showers. No need to track this mud into the dorms.” She lifted her voice. “Anyone with cuts, scrapes, or anything else, report to the nurse after you’re clean. Well done, guys.”
The kids slowly peeled away, leaving only Brigitte and Sasha.
“That was more fun than I remembered.”
“You’re a sadist, Sasha,” Brigitte said with a laugh.
Sasha started to walk away.
“Hold up.”
She paused.
“Geoff is here for you, isn’t he?”
“Linette said he might have employment for me. Something to challenge me.”
Brigitte’s lips went in a straight line.
“You don’t approve,” Sasha said after several seconds of silence.
“It isn’t for me to approve or disapprove.” Their eyes finally met. “His challenges come with a stiff price, Sasha. Know exactly what you’re saying yes to before you do.” Without anything else, Brigitte left her standing in the drizzle.
Chapter Eight
AJ spent most of his first day researching the two names Sasha had given him online, Jocey Schuster and Olivia Naught. Both were women who had roomed with his sister at one time or another at Richter. The names rang distant bells in his head. Amelia must have mentioned them at some point, but when she was away in boarding school, he was channeling his best bad boy attitude and not paying a lot of attention to what she said on the rare occasions they saw each other.
It took some time, but he was able to follow Jocey all the way to Arizona, where he found mention of her getting married and acquiring a new last name. Now Jocey Miller, it appeared she was living a typical suburban life complete with at least one kid that put her name on a PTA president list in an upscale school district.
Olivia Naught, on the other hand, wasn’t so easy to find. No Instagram, Facebook, Twitter . . . social media had plenty of matching names, but none that fit the right age. Olivia’s family was just as elusive. He tried searches all over Scotland on the off chance the origin of her name meant she’d have ties there.
Nothing.
Like she didn’t exist.
He checked everything from obituaries to marriage announcements. Nothing, nada . . . zilch.
AJ looked at the time, calculated the difference between Berlin and Los Angeles. Between him and the man Sasha called Reed.
AJ knew the minute she walked away that he would use her contact in the States. If for no other reason than to find out whom this Reed guy was. Was he a friend, colleague . . . family member? A benefited friend? AJ didn’t see Sasha sleeping alone very often. Sex appeal dripped off her like water from a tornado-drenched roofline. She pulled off the blonde thing with the American accent like a West Coast girl, but the dark-haired mysterious European thing . . . yeah, that did so much more for his libido.
Not that she’d noticed.
AJ tapped his fingers against his phone a couple of times and then gave in to temptation.
A male voice answered on the second ring. “This is Reed.”
“Ah, yeah. Hi. This is AJ. Sasha said I could call you.”
“She did. Can you hold on just a second?”
“Sure.”
Noise in the background lowered and the connection clicked a couple of times.
“I’m back.”
“Is this a bad time?” AJ asked.
“No. I just needed to move so I could hear you better. So, you’re AJ?”
“I am. I’m sure Sasha told you why I would call.”
Reed laughed. “You don’t know her very well, do you?”
“I’m sorry?” AJ wasn’t sure he understood.
“Sasha told me nothing, just that she gave you my number and to help you out if you called.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, Sasha doesn’t elaborate. Ever. But if you wanna fill in the blanks, I’m listening.”
AJ considered retelling the story about his sister but decided to keep things simple. “I’m not sure if you can help with this or not. Sasha gave me two names to research, Jocey Schuster and Olivia Naught. I found Jocey in Arizona using her degree from Richter playing PTA president at her kid’s school. Olivia Naught, on the other hand, didn’t seem to exist after she graduated.”
“How old is this woman?” Reed asked.
“I’m not positive, but it’s a safe bet to say she is between twenty-seven and twenty-nine. She graduated with my sister.”
“From this school . . . Richter?”
“Yeah. Sasha’s alma mater.”
Reed was silent for a second.
“Where Sasha is staying right now. Did she tell you that?”
“She went back to school?” Reed asked.
“Visiting, I think. It’s a boarding school. Safe to assume some of the teachers are like family after living there.”
AJ heard Reed sigh. “Ahh, that makes perfect sense.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Nothing. So, Sasha gave you two names to research, one is present and accounted for, this Olivia lady disappeared, and you wanna know if I can find anything on her?”
“Yeah. If you can do that kind of thing. I’ve been online for hours and nothing . . .”
“My computers are a little better than average. And what am I looking for, exactly?”
“Anything, everything.” It was then that AJ realized that he had to add a little information to the why behind the names. “These women were roommates with my sister back at Richter. Along with Keri Shrum. Now Keri and my sister are dead, and I’m convinced there’s a connection.”
Reed blew out a breath. “I’m sorry about your sister.”
“Thanks. I want answers, which is why I flew all the way here. Only the mouths at Richter are closed. Much like Sasha’s, but she agreed to help me.”
Another pause. “Why is that? Why did Sasha agree to help you?”
AJ shook his head. “I’m not sure. She said because she wasn’t bored. As if I knew what that was supposed to mean.”
Reed started to laugh.
“I take it you understand the woman.”
He laughed harder. “Oh, God, no. I don’t think anyone understands Sasha. But the not being bored part . . . I get that.”
“Has Sasha told you about Richter?” AJ asked.
Before Reed opened his mouth, he realized his question was going to be met with a negative answer.
“No. Only what I read on a brochure.”
“Why would you read a brochure on the school?” AJ asked.
“To learn more about Sasha.”
It was AJ’s turn to laugh. “Let me fill in a couple of blanks. Consider what a military boarding school would look like in post–Cold War Germany.”
“They have them?”
“No. Not in the truest sense. But Richter filled a void when the wall came down and high-profile political families wanted safe places for their children to go to school. Add in a few troubled teens with rich parents, put in some basic survival skills and maybe some arms training, and you have Richter. Some kids leave after high school, some stay on for an accelerated college degree. They finish in three years what takes everyone else four.”
“How does the word military fall into what you just described? Outside of weapons training.”
AJ remembered how his sister would talk about her years at Richter, about the things she observed. “The doors are locked for all ages, from the youngest students to the oldest. Punishments that would land any American principal in jail for quite a long time.”
“They’re abusive?” Reed asked.
“Think of putting a kid on restriction like an inmate being put in solitary. If the rules the students broke were severe enough, a couple of days in the hole slapped them into shape.”
“Jesus.”
Say It Again (First Wives) Page 7
