Paulina Rostakova’s Adventures
AUGUST 10
6:22 p.m.
Backseat of car, en route from Prague to Munich
Note to self: Copy this over to journal as soon as I can find it
Writing a quickie update while Dixon is driving. He had a long sleep earlier this morning when we left Prague—poor guy hasn’t had a lot of rest lately, what with the damned Essex team cheating all over the place.
Where did I leave off? There’s been so much going on that I can’t remember, and my journal is in my bag, strapped to the back of the car. Let’s see . . . We got into Warsaw in the middle of the night and crawled into the nearest hotel. I crashed as soon as we got there, but Dixon, bless his heart, slept in the car to guard it against Anton (or the other members of his team).
“I have to admit,” I told Dixon about six hours later, when we left a brief meeting with Roger, the two film crews, and Anton, “that Anton seems innocent of wrongdoing. I mean, he didn’t do anything to the car when he drove.”
“I was watching him pretty closely to make sure he didn’t,” Dixon answered, and yawned.
“You climb into the back and sleep,” I told him. “I’ll drive for a few hours. No, don’t object—I can see how tired you are. Your normally devastatingly handsome face has lines of strain all over it.”
He gave me a look of mock horror. “All over it?”
“Yes. Like plaid, crisscrossing hither and yon. Get some sleep before I change my mind about being in love with a man with a plaid stress face.”
He bit my ear, but climbed into the back and dropped off almost immediately.
Two hours later, while I was fueling the car, Tabby and Sam stopped behind me. Roger had opted to take a train to Berlin, where he and the other film crew would rent a car and drive back toward Warsaw until they found the Essex car.
I glanced into the backseat, but Dixon was still asleep. Gesturing at Tabby, I pulled her away a few yards and said, “I know you’re not supposed to tell me, but this is important. Those bastards cheated by sabotaging our engine and made us at least five hours late. Do you know where they are?”
“Yes,” she said without a second’s hesitation. “They’re en route to Berlin. They should be there in the next couple of hours.”
“Sons of seagulls,” I swore, doing a mental calculation. It would take us more than six hours to get there. “Thanks for telling me, and not being all ‘It’s against the rules’ and so on.”
She gave me a little smile. “I might be more strict about it except Sam overheard Dermott telling the Esses you were just arriving in Warsaw. If their camera crew can help them, then I figure it’s fair for us to do the same.”
“Bless you,” I said, giving her a quick hug. “I really appreciate it. We need all the help we can get.”
“Then you’ll love this tidbit—” She glanced around and leaned in close to say, “You have a chance to catch up. Not just catch up, but pass them, if you can drive all night. I know Roger doesn’t want you doing that, but if you and Dixon take turns sleeping, you might just pull it off.”
“But they’re still so far ahead of us—”
“They are, and they know it. And they’ve had a long, hard day after several long, hard days, and they have to be just as tired as you are. So with their lead time well in the bag, I don’t doubt they’ll spend the night in Berlin before setting off early in the morning.”
“Yeah, but they wouldn’t want to risk losing their lead.”
She gave a half shrug. “Dermott told them you and Dixon looked like hell. No doubt the Essex team will assume that, even if you make it to Berlin tonight—and you know it won’t be until at least midnight before you do so—you’ll be too tired to do more than limp into town and collapse.”
I gave her a keen eyeing. “How are you feeling, Tabby?”
“Me?” She looked startled.
“Slept well the last few nights, have you? Up to some hard-core driving?”
She grinned and punched me lightly on the arm. “I am. We both are. If you can do it, we can do it. Just don’t leave us behind like in that rainstorm.”
“Deal,” I said, and shook her hand.
An hour later Dixon woke up feeling much better.
“I am pleased to inform you,” I said, climbing into the backseat so I could get some rest, “that you no longer have a plaid face. I will continue to love you.”
“You could do better, you know,” he said in a light tone, and once again I was possessed with a doubt about his true feelings. Damn the man—why couldn’t he just come right out and tell me what he felt? Why did he have to dance around the subject?
He had to love me. At least a little. He couldn’t sleep with me and want to marry someone else. Could he?
Damn him!
August 10
From: Tabby
You’re swerving a lot. You guys OK?
August 10
To: Tabby
Yeah.
August 10
From: Tabby
You know, there are no more autobahns here, right? You can’t just drive crazy like that.
August 10
To: Tabby
We know. I was trying to . . . uh . . . Dixon was being all . . . um . . . never mind.
August 10
From: Tabby
You didn’t try to give him a BJ while driving, did you?
August 10
To: Tabby
Of course not!
August 10
To: Tabby
As if I would!
August 10
To: Tabby
We are not the blow-jobs-in-a-car sort of people, thank you very much!
August 10
From: Tabby
Oh?
August 10
To: Tabby
If you must know, I was trying to seduce him into telling me he loves me. By nibbling on his jaw. Nothing more. OK, my hand was on his thing. But that’s it.
August 10
From: Tabby
You what?
August 10
To: Tabby
Thigh! Leg thigh! Not thing. Stupid, stupid autocorrect.
August 10
To: Tabby
You think he loves me, don’t you? You and Sam see everything.
August 10
To: Tabby
Tabby? You there? You were supposed to reassure me that Dixon loves me and wants me and will marry me because my dad won’t let me live in sin. Although I think that sounds like a lot more fun than living in non-sin.
August 10
To: Tabby
TABBY???
August 10
From: Tabby
Sorry. Was reading something to Sam.
August 10
To: Tabby
You didn’t answer my text. Don’t think I didn’t notice that.
August 10
To: Tabby
I knew it. He hates me. Sigh.