The Good Thief's Guide to Berlin by Chris Ewan Page B

realize we won’t get paid our bonus now you can’t give him the file?”
    I smiled. Notice how that telltale “we” and “our” had crept in there?
    “You can leave me to worry about that, too,” I said.
    “But what about those men? What if they come back?”
    “They won’t.”
    “For God’s sake, Charlie.” She thumped her fist into the door frame. “I’m scared.”
    She looked it, too. She was pale and she was trembling. Her teeth were clamped together and her eyes were half shut, like she was bracing for some kind of impact. Perhaps she was seeing haunting visions of Vladislav and Pavel returning when we least expected it. Sneaking through my apartment in the dead of night. Pouncing on us. Attacking us.
    Hell, now I was getting a little scared, too.
    “Hug me, can’t you?” she said.
    Could I? I guessed I was going to have to. I mean, it’s not the kind of request you can very well decline without causing offense.
    I dumped my torch on my bed and edged across the room, like I was moving toward a very high and treacherous precipice. I spread my arms very wide, like a kid playing airplane, and gently closed my arms around her.
    “Christ, Charlie, that’s not a hug. This is a hug.”
    She squeezed me hard and held me close, her head just below my chin. Her hair scratched my neck and I could smell the scent of her shampoo. It was fragrant and sweet and undeniably pleasant. So was holding her. She was warm and soft and shapely. And, well, we just seemed to fit.
    I relaxed. My shoulders dropped. I smoothed my hands up and down her back, stroking the material of her knitted cardigan. I lowered my lips to the crown of her head. I could feel the beat of her heart. It was beating very fast.
    “Your heart is racing,” she said.
    “Adrenaline,” I muttered. “Been an eventful night.”
    She stirred and backed away from me, resting the flat of her hand against my chest. I lowered my arms, cradling her waist. I looked deep into her eyes.
    “You know, I almost forgot about what happened at that first apartment,” she said.
    “Lucky you. I’ve been trying my best to forget it altogether.”
    “I wonder if the police are still there.”
    I wondered that, too. I didn’t think it was likely. They hadn’t found the blonde, and it wouldn’t have taken long for the female officer to discover that the guy who’d called them to report the incident wasn’t at home. They’d probably concluded that my report was a hoax.
    “Nothing we can do now,” I told her. “Feeling better?”
    “A little.”
    She smiled timidly and we released each other. I stuffed my hands inside my pockets and shifted my weight between my feet. Victoria pushed her hair behind her ear.
    “Do you think we should stay in a hotel tonight, Charlie?”
    “There’s really no need. They won’t return. I promise. And even if they did, they couldn’t get in. The locks on my door were too much for them the first time around. And if they tried to crawl through my window again, I’d hear them right away.”
    She looked down at the floor. She nodded and she sniffed.
    “I’m still a little scared,” she said. “And it’s so cold in here, Charlie. With the broken window and all.” She raised her eyes, and they were wet and glimmering and shifting around with a fidgety uncertainty. “And I don’t want this to be weird or to freak you out at all, but I’d really appreciate it if you might sleep in my room tonight.” She paused, monitoring my reaction. “On the floor,” she added hurriedly. “Next to my bed. I think it would really help me to know that you’re close.”
    My mouth had gone dry. I swallowed. It felt like something was lodged in my throat. My heart, perhaps.
    “I can do that,” I managed.
    “I just have a bad feeling, you know?”
    Oh, I knew all about bad feelings. I had plenty of them myself. Sleeping in Victoria’s room seemed like a terrible idea to me. There were countless pitfalls. Any number of traps. But one