Berlin Butterfly: Deception (Berlin Butterfly Series Book 2) by Leah Moyes

Author:Leah Moyes [Moyes, Leah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-11-18T06:00:00+00:00

The idea of finding this tunnel, a channel to the West—back to Josef, back to Anton—played over and over in my head. Yet simultaneous to the images of a long-awaited reunion, another vision gradually edged itself in. Stefan. Seeing his carefully concealed emotion, I struggled to discern his reaction. Was he happy or sad for me? Speculation governed until my eyelids grew heavy . . . then dark.

Nineteen

You aren’t a spy, are you?

“Get up!” A sharp object poked my shoulder. My eyes opened to two men hovering over me. I shuddered and fell off the chairs to the ground. Stealing quick glances about, recollection of the night’s events resurfaced. My sights settled back on the men as I jumped to my feet. I shrewdly studied the offenders. They were regular men, not strabenkind or border patrol. A quick breath of relief slipped from my lips.

“What are you doing here?” The man with the graying beard was gruff. “You are trespassing!” He continued to poke. I yanked the stick from his grasp and held onto it.

The other man, noticeably younger but sharing similar features, spoke with a much nicer tone.

“You shouldn’t be here, Fräulein.” He held out his hand.

I carefully considered the two then grabbed it and allowed him to hoist me to my feet.

“Thank you,” I mumbled brushing cotton strings off of my skirt. I stretched my back until it cracked; the makeshift bed had not been too comfortable.

“Get out!” The older man, near my height, stepped up and tilted his face clearly too close. “Leave! Go find a shelter or something!” he demanded seconds before I shoved him backwards. Surprised, his fists curled, but I stood my ground.

“I’m looking for my friends, Klaus and Fritz. I was given this address.”

The younger one stepped between us. “We don’t know anyone by that name.”

I rubbed my aching head . . .what are their new names?

“Rupert!” I cried, remembering how Klaus’ name reminded me of a character in a book. “Rupert.”

They passed a look that confirmed I was right. Butterflies began to dance in my stomach.

“He did not!” Graybeard nearly shouted while he paced. The younger one had difficulty suppressing a smile. I handed him the small napkin with the handwritten address then added, “I’m not lying. I’m sure you know them. Where are they? Where are my friends?”

Graybeard’s complexion turned nearly purple as he spit, “Leave or I will contact the authorities.”

“No, you won’t,” my counter came swiftly, “I know about the tunnel.”

Both men’s expressions showed varying degrees of panic. “Scheisse!” the older man huffed angrily and paced again, then glared at the younger one. His finger shook aggressively. “Leave it to Rupert to want to bring on another woman.”

“Is he here?” My eyes lifted.

“No!” he shot back.

Biting my lip, I swallowed my desire to insult him. Whispering with restraint, I turned to the nicer man, “Will he be here today?”

“He doesn’t arrive until dusk,” he answered but was abruptly interrupted by the older man.

“Who else have you told of this? Friends? Family?”

“Nobody!” I hollered.

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