See How They Run (Embassy Row, #2)

“Second floor!” I call, but Rosie is already racing up the stairs. She has a large bag in her hands and the look on her face is sheer terror.

“Grace, I got your text. Where is he? Is he …” But then Rosie sees Alexei, sitting on Iran’s old couch, all color drained from his face but very much alive. She hurls herself across the room and into his arms. Alexei rests his cheek on the top of Rosie’s head as she comes down to rest, cradled in his lap.

“I was so worried,” she croaks out.

“I am okay, Rosemarie. All is well.”

All is not well, but now might not be the time to say so.

“Did you get it?” I ask Rosie, who hands me the bag.

“Of course. It’s a madhouse out there. The embassies are all closed off and the street is blocked and there are television cameras everywhere. But it was easy,” Rosie says, then shrugs. “No one paid any attention to me.”

I open the bag and look down at some men’s clothes and bottles of water, a few protein bars. And, finally, four shiny cell phones. I pull one out and eye it.

“The embassy keeps those for staff and visiting dignitaries,” Rosie says. “No one has used them in months. They won’t be missed.”

Perfect. If Alexei is going to go on the run, he’ll need to be on his own. Or at least it needs to look that way. No one has a reason to be watching Germany.

“Rosie, I love you,” I say.

Rosie shrugs. “Most people do.”

She snuggles closer to Alexei, and he squeezes her tight.

“Don’t worry,” I tell him. “We’re going to keep you safe until we can find a way to get you out of Adria.”

“I’m not leaving the country.” His voice is strong now, sure.

“You’re not safe here,” I tell him.

“I will not run away like a coward.”

“If you stay here, whoever blew up the car is going to find you. And they are going to kill you. And maybe not just you. Don’t tell me you still want to turn yourself in?”

This, at least, hits home. I can almost see the gears in Alexei’s head start spinning.

“I must return to the embassy. I’ll be safe there, and in the meantime —”

“Alexei! Stop!”

Finally, it’s Megan who is screaming and not me. I’m so relieved to be the quiet, sensible one, if only for a moment.

“It was a Russian car, housed and maintained in a Russian garage. And it exploded.” Megan eyes him as if waiting to see him catch on. “Someone got to it from inside the Russian embassy. Which means …”

“You can’t go home,” Noah finishes, then places a hand on Alexei’s shoulder.

The honorable part of Alexei is struggling with the idea, but the sensible part of him knows better. What if Mikhail isn’t the only person who gets hurt?

“I know a place,” Rosie says at the exact moment Megan blurts, “We’ll hide him!”

“Where?” Noah asks Megan.

“I know a place,” Rosie says again.

“Is there another embassy that would take him?” I ask. “I know the US won’t do it, but what about —”

A piercing whistle fills the room. Slowly, we all turn to look at Rosie.

“As I was saying,” she starts slowly, “I happen to know a place. It’s just that” — she looks skeptically at Alexei — “it may be a little … rough.”

For the first time since black smoke and fire filled the street, Alexei grins. “I can handle rough.”

“Don’t worry. You aren’t in this alone,” I say, but my words are hollow. I mean them. I swear, I really do. But I have been the one in danger — the one at the center of a secret. And no matter how many people surround you, that is still the loneliest place on earth.



“Do you have everything you need?” I ask for what has to be the twentieth time. At least. And for the twentieth time, Alexei looks at me.

“I will be fine, Gracie. Thank you.”

I look around at the hodgepodge of things that lie scattered on the dirt floor.

Rosie’s “place” is high in the hills that rim the north edge of the city. I don’t know how she found it or how long she’s known about it, but I am sure that no one is going to stumble across Alexei here anytime soon. The entrance is narrow, barely wide enough to slip through. And the stone ceiling overhead has cracks that show the stars, enough air circulation that it is safe to build a fire.

It’s as good a place as any to hide, but I’m not a hider. I’m a runner and a fighter. It goes against my every instinct to sit on the ground in this cold, dark place, waiting for things to get better, but that is exactly what Alexei has to do.

“Noah’s dad likes to go camping,” I say, desperate to fill the silence. “He managed to smuggle out a stove and a sleeping bag, and we have some water and protein bars in that bag. You’re supposed to be able to make coffee with one of those contraptions, but the instructions are in Portuguese, so —”

“Grace.” Alexei’s hands are on my arms. His skin is warm against mine. I was starting to worry I might never feel warm again.

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