Free Midnight in Berlin by JL Merrow Page B

I… You get the picture.”
    He chewed on his lip for a while longer. “Are they going to be after me for being a friend of yours?”
    It was one hell of a time for him to suddenly grow a brain cell. “I don’t know,” I muttered, feeling guilty for bringing him into this. “Maybe. I guess they might want to talk to you.”
    Jon nodded slowly. “For an easy-going guy, you’re bad news, you know that? Okay. Before I got here, I was in Florence, staying in a hostel in an old villa a little way out of town. It was pretty cool, you know? Still had fountains in the grounds—”
    “Is there a point to this?” I interrupted. All this talk of Schreiber’s pack looking for us was starting to make me feel nervous about standing around in the open.
    “Oh, yeah. I met this Turkish dude whose uncle owns a hostel in Kreuzberg. I figure he’d let us stay for a while.”
    I sensed a catch. “If you knew about this place, how was it you ended up in Bahnhofstrasse?”
    Jon’s gaze shifted past my left shoulder. “Uh, he said it’s pretty basic. But I figure it won’t matter for a night or two.”
    If it was basic compared to Bahnhofstrasse, that probably meant bare floorboards and hot-and-cold-running rats. I shivered. Still, what was it they said about ports in a storm? “Okay. Can you take us there now?”
    Jon cast a regretful eye back at Corvino’s and nodded. I guess neither of us would be welcome there again after he’d skipped out halfway through a shift. Ah, what the hell. The tips were lousy anyhow.
    “Listen, I’d better warn you about the guy we’re with,” I began as we walked briskly back to the Porsche. I’d have kept a look out for werewolves, but Silke was doing just fine, jumping at every passerby. “He’s kind of a mess.”
    “Uh, how? You mean he does drugs or something?”
    “No.” Although come to think of it, he might want to start after what had happened to him. “It’s his face. It got kind of mangled.”
    Jon chewed his lip some more as he loped along, like it was the on switch for his brain or something. “This is all part of the shit you’re in?”
    If I said yes, would he refuse to help us? “Not exactly. This happened before.” Hell, it wasn’t even a lie.
    “Oh. Okay, that’s cool.”
    We rounded the corner to the side street where we’d left Christoph and the Porsche. I relaxed a little when I saw they were still there. “Jon, can you give us directions to this place, or do I need to Google it?” I asked, remembering I’d gotten my cell phone back with my backpack.
    “I figure I can find it— Whoa!” Jon had just gotten his first look at the new, improved Christoph.
    I opened up the passenger door of the Porsche. “Christoph, this is Jon. He knows someplace we can stay tonight, and he’s going to get us some money tomorrow.”
    Christoph nodded.
    Jon seemed to jump out of suspended animation. He held out a hand, a bit jerkily. “Nice to meet you.” Christoph shook it briefly, staring at him. “Uh, maybe you should sit in back so I can give Leon here directions?”
    Maybe Christoph had chewed off his own tongue while he was waiting for us. He didn’t say a word, just got out the car. As the sun hit his face, he tensed, or maybe it was just his joints had stiffened up again. “I’ll drive.”
    What the fuck? “I’m driving,” I said firmly.
    He gave me a full-on stare. “It’s my car.”
    “So? You’re a mess.” Damn. “You’re injured, okay?”
    Jon stepped up, making cool it gestures. “Dude, does it matter? If he wants to drive, let him drive, okay? He looks like he can handle it.”
    By the time I’d finished getting distracted by the voice of fucking reason there, Christoph had slid into the driver’s seat. I got in back and folded my arms. Silke smiled at me. Damn. Even she wasn’t scared of me anymore.
    With Christoph driving, Jon got his good side. I wondered if it bothered Christoph that his scars were on full view to the public through