Page 59 of Wyatt

Wyatt’s eyes widened. “York?”

“We need to get off the street,” York said. “Those shots will bring militia. And when they arrive and find Natalya…”

Coco nodded and got up, reaching under Wyatt’s arm to help him, York on the other side.

Wyatt found his feet, obviously still woozy. He looked at York. “Huh,” he said, and she had a feeling he still hadn’t found himself.

“C’mon, buddy. You’re a long way from home.” York put Wyatt’s arm over his shoulder, and Wyatt let him, a little evidence of his wound. He held his hand to his head over the growing bump.

York picked up Mikka’s bag, then Wyatt’s and put them over his shoulder.

Coco picked up her backpack and Mikka. Didn’t look at Natalya sprawled in the road.

She put her hand over his eyes.

She couldn’t just leave her in the road—

“Oy! What happened?” The voice turned her, and Lana was running down the road after them, just behind their security man.

“It’s a terrible story, but—she fell and hit her head.” York, the half-truth spilling out of his mouth in a matter-of-fact tone.

Coco was a little shaken at how easily he let that information spiral out. And how easily he’d also left behind the woman at the train station.

She knew him from her friend Tasha, who had dated him before her death. Knew he’d been a Marine working at the embassy. Knew he’d worked in some covert position in the CIA.

Knew that something terrible had happened to make him resign.

Now, a darkness spread through her gut, into her bones as he said, “Call the morgue. They can pick her up.”

Like she was refuse.

But Natalya had been…well, sort of her friend.

Maybe.

“Let’s go,” York said and turned down the street.

Mikka was trying to wiggle out of her grip, so Coco turned to Lana. “I’m so sorry—we have to catch the train.”

“Go,” Lana said and kissed Mikka once more. Coco couldn’t look at Natalya’s body as the security guard put his jacket over her.

She followed York, hustling to catch up.

When they rounded the corner, back onto the street, she let Mikka down and took his hand. He looked up at her, his smile gone. “It’s going to be okay,” she said, squeezing his hand, trying to believe it. “We’re just going on a little trip.”

After her conversation with York last night, she’d put together a few details. Like once she got Mikka to Sarai, got him checked out, she’d get him an American passport. Or at least a birth certificate. As her child, he could travel into the United States under her documents.

She’d go to America. Hide in Kansas or somewhere.

If Mikka was sick, she’d tap into her father’s vast wealth and get him the best medical care on the planet.

And then Wyatt had to walk back into the picture. He’d stopped leaning on York and now simply walked, albeit slowly, his hand pressed to his head.

She caught up to him. “How did you find me?” Oh no, that wasn’t exactly the first thing she wanted to say to him.

He glanced at her, his mouth tight. “The FSB. Although after what just happened, I’m not sure who is lying to me.”

Oh, and that hurt. But why would—