coffee shops with a pot menu on every corner in Vegas,” he argued.
“You can buy pot there.” The woman turned to Olivia, her smile big . . . like she’d been sitting in a smoke-hazed Amsterdam coffee shop for hours. “Pot is legal in a lot of places in America. It’s only a matter of time before it looks more like this.”
“She’s right,” the man said. “But the sex business is less in your face. If you want a peep show, you have to find a club and walk in. Nothing can be seen on the street, and prostitution is illegal everywhere.”
“Is that right?” Olivia asked.
The woman giggled. “How would you know where to look at naked boobies?” she asked her man as she snuggled next to him.
“Yours are the only boobies for me.”
“I think we should try that one.” The woman pointed to one of the many condoms hanging in the store window.
The man smiled at Olivia. “If you’ll excuse us. Looks like I’m gonna get some tonight.”
“Have fun,” Olivia called after them as they disappeared inside.
From there she found a crowded bar and ordered a drink. Within an hour she had three random cell phone numbers, two residing in Europe, one from the States, and the ability to move through those phones when making calls and go undetected.
On the walk back to her hotel, she dodged bicyclists that outnumbered the motorists four to one. She took her time along one of the many canals that crisscrossed the city. The streetlights were buzzing on and reflecting on the water.
Amsterdam was nothing like Las Vegas.
Sex was sold here openly from a window. Prostitution was legal and taxed. That didn’t make it better, just . . . open. With competition and free trade, men like Mykonos didn’t have nearly the same hold on the industry. Olivia wasn’t stupid enough to think human trafficking wasn’t walking past her right at that moment, but it wasn’t the norm.
There were plenty of drunk and high tourists in the city, but there was a rich and sober economy there as well. Jobs that didn’t center on gambling, sex, drugs, and retail. They were known for the fashion industry, shipping, tech . . . the city was filled with highly educated finance and business executives and their companies. And she would venture to guess that most of those inhabitants didn’t frequent the red-light district or coffee shops any more often than a New Yorker walked in Times Square for the fun of it.
Olivia had always liked Amsterdam.
She blended there.
Was invisible there.
Back in her hotel room, she stripped her fake identity away, one layer at a time, and stood under the spray of a hot shower. When her thoughts turned to Leo, she purposely turned the water to cold until all she could think about was scrubbing the soap from her hair and getting out.
For hours she sat at the desk in her room, electronics spread out, the computer and uplink in place, and worked. Every moment since her memory returned, she had questioned how it was possible that all this knowledge could vanish. The languages, the legit technology skills, the hacking . . . infiltrating a computer, a cell phone. Disguise. She really was good at changing her appearance. She’d have to be, she realized, if she wanted to stay alive. It was amazing how big the world was and yet how small at the same time.
She had just started to believe that the world did think she was dead.
Her phone call to Neil, and the job he put her on, was a first step to finding some peace. She would take the money he offered and never reach into a covert safety deposit box again. But that blood money was going to keep her alive, and instead of avoiding it, she decided it was time to embrace it. Take the money she’d sold her soul for and put it to use.
Finally, somewhere after two in the morning, when her fingers couldn’t type any longer and her eyes started seeing double on the computer screen, she backed out of the system she was in.
Olivia relocated a few feet to the bed and climbed on top of the covers.
She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, tried to still her mind.
Leo . . .
Was he still in hiding? Did he think the shooter was aiming at him?
Did he hate her?
Now that he knew who she really was, did he think of her and cringe?