Spy Girl (11 page)

“How so?”

“One was German and the other Moroccan, but our government expects a terrorist organization will take credit.”

“Credit for what? They could have opened fire on the crowd touring the castle. It wasn’t terror. It felt like they were coming after the royal family. The Prince, specifically.”

“Another theory is that it was a test,” Daniel says, confirming what Ari and I thought. “That something bigger is to come.”

“That’s scary.”

“Don’t worry, Huntley. I’ll protect you.” God, he’s sweet. “Uh, oh. Enzo is making a beeline toward us.”

I don’t have a chance to reply before the Prince says to me, “You are understandably mad, but put yourself in my position.”

“Your position? You were freaking out. I got you out of there. If that’s how you treat your friends, I don’t want to be one of them.”

“Please, I’m sorry. They’re just trying to keep me safe.”

“Which means we should be on the same side, because that’s what I tried to do, too. Keep us
both
safe.”

“Please allow me to make it up to you,” the Prince pleads.

I roll my eyes, causing Daniel to say, “Come on, Huntley. It’s no fun when you’re mad. Come to the club with us.”

“You two have fun. I have other plans. If you’ll excuse me, my friends are here.”

I walk a few steps away to join the British lads, who recently arrived. Wesley gives me a kiss on the lips in greeting and places his hand on my ass.
 

From my position, I can also still hear Daniel and the Prince talking. Ari winks at me and joins them. He had been discreetly listening to our conversation about the gunmen.

“I don’t know what your people did to her today,” I hear Ari say to the Prince, piling on the guilt, “but she got home and just started bawling.”

Daniel returns to my side, pulling me away from my British love fest. “Ari told us that you cried when you got home.”

“It was kind of an emotional day,” I state flatly.

“Just go talk to him. Tell him you’re sorry. Make up.”

“Tell him
I’m
sorry? You’ve got to be kidding me, Daniel. Did he not tell you how he panicked? How he was ready to go out into the hall where the gunfire was? Did he tell you they fired shots into the room we were in, and it was only due to my quick thinking that we got out of there?”

Daniel looks concerned. “He didn’t.”

“And you didn’t care to know. You two have fun at the club.”
 

I turn on my heels and walk away. I’m not sure what I look like on the outside—hopefully poised and self-assured, but I don’t feel that way on the inside. I feel like my being mad at the Prince and Daniel is very real. I’m pissed at them both.
 

And that scares me.
 

Rule number one is to never get emotionally attached, because that makes you—and them—vulnerable.
 

I wonder if I’m really cut out for this job. Being the best in the academy doesn’t mean anything in the real world. Could I be like the college football player who wins the Heisman but then never goes on to a successful professional career?

I go lock myself in a bathroom stall, taking a deep breath and cleansing myself of all negative thoughts.

A vision of my mother getting shot slips to the forefront of my mind.
 

It does that when I relax.
 

I had counseling at Blackwood to help me deal with the trauma of losing my parents, if such a thing is possible. My Uncle Sam told me that my parents got involved with some nasty people in their business dealings. He asked me what I wanted to do with my life. I answered simply: I wanted revenge. I wanted to hunt down the man and kill him myself. He confided in me that he had connections with the government and then offered me a place at Blackwood along with the promise of becoming skilled enough to take on my parents’ killer.
 

I close my eyes again and see the assassin’s eyes, knowing that my first mission will be a success.

Because it has to be.
 

For my country.
 

For my parents.
 

But, mostly, for myself.

I return to the casino floor and walk straight over to Ari, who is in a group chatting with Daniel and the Prince.

“Don’t wait up for me,” I say, patting him on the back as I walk by.

Then I make my way over to an incredibly hot Italian guy whose father designs the suits he wears. He was flirting with me at the roulette table earlier and invited me to go dancing with him. I allow him to lead me out of the casino and into a nearby club. Then I feign a headache and go home.

When I get there, I ask Ellis for intel on both of the Prince’s cousins as well as their boyfriends’ backgrounds. Then I scan my room for bugs and destroy them. I can’t deal with knowing someone is listening to me. They will probably be replaced soon, but for now, I don’t want them to hear the doubt in my head.

I’m in my bed, trying to sleep, when I hear a noise outside my terrace door. I grab the gun from my bedside table and proceed cautiously, flattening my back against the wall and then peeking out from behind the curtains.
 

Daniel is standing under the light.

I put the gun away and open the door. “What are you doing?”

“I was afraid you weren’t going to be here. You told Ari not to wait up. I figured you went home with that guy.”

“I was mad. My pathetic attempt to get back at you and the Prince for being jerks. I’m not going to sleep with some random guy.”

“Like the Prince?”
 

“I haven’t slept with the Prince.”
 

“What, he not as sexy as I am?” Daniel says, leaning against the door jamb and dropping down an overnight bag.

“He’s just—I don’t know. I thought we were sort of becoming friends. The way they practically accused me of bringing gunmen with me was upsetting.”

“You almost sound like you’re falling for him.”
 

I don’t answer that question. I ask him what I really want to know. “Daniel, why did you come to Montrovia?”

He cups my face in his hands. “I have a good excuse.”

“What is it?”

“I was in Paris, spending a few days with my mother before going to Switzerland to shoot a watch commercial with the Swiss bikini team. When the Prince called and asked about you, I figured what the hell. I’d see an old friend. Party for a few days in this beautiful city.”

“And the real reason?” I ask softly.

“Because I wanted to see you,” he replies, looking sincere. “But I have to leave first thing in the morning.”

“That means we have all night,” I breathe out, my voice barely above a whisper.

“What’s left of it.”

“Then you better not waste a second.” I step out into the light.

He grins. “You’re wearing my shirt.”

The next thing I know, our lips collide, and he’s throwing me on the bed.

“So you wanted a slumber party?” I tease, kissing him.

He lies on top of me, holding his weight on his arms. “What I want is your hands all over me. Your body all over me. I want you under me. On top of me—”

“And I just want you in me.”

“I love how subtle you are,” he teases, stripping his shirt off me.

MISSION:
DAY FIVE
   

I wake up to the sound of Daniel packing and getting dressed. He starts to put on a button-down, but grins at me and stops, pulling it back off his arm and sitting on the bed. He pulls the covers down, wraps me in his shirt, and kisses my forehead.
 

“My shirts look better on you than they do on me. I’ll miss you,” he says gently.

“Have fun hanging out with the bikini team.”

“That
was
the plan.”

“And now?”

“I’m not sure,” he says softly as he kisses me. “I’ll be back for the race and the big ball. Don’t become a princess while I’m gone.”

I scoff at him.
 

“I don’t think you’d make a good princess, anyway,” he says.

“Why’s that?”

“I can’t imagine he’s as good in bed as I am.”

“Just because I slept with you—thinking I’d never see you again—doesn’t mean that I sleep around. I don’t go home with a different man every night.”

“But you have quite a bit of previous experience?”

“None of your business.”

“Do you want to know mine?”

“No, it’s been splashed all over the tabloids that my friend used to obsess over.”

“She obsessed over me? Maybe I should meet her.”

“She obsessed over the tabloids, Daniel.”

“Good. I’d rather have you obsess over me. You have to admit it was good.”
 

“The pizza
was
by far the best I’ve ever had.”

He pushes me against the headboard and gives me a smoking hot kiss.

“I’m not looking to get serious with anyone, Daniel. My life is—”

“Shh. Don’t ruin our night with excuses. Go back to sleep.”

X X
X

“It seems you have an admirer,” Ari says, waking me up around noon with a very large bouquet of pink roses.
 

My heart does a little leap thinking they could be from Daniel.

I rub my eyes as Ari sets them on my desk and plucks an envelope out of the arrangement. He’s followed into the room by our housekeeper who places a large gift-wrapped box on my bed and then retreats. On top of it is a formal invitation with my name in a gorgeous gold calligraphy.
 

Ari plops down on my bed as I brush my hair off my face and fluff it. I’m sure it’s a freaking mess.

He narrows his eyes, surveying me and then my messy bed. “If I didn’t know you were home early and alone last night, I’d think you had a night filled with sex.”

“I had a restless sleep,” I say, attempting to explain the rumpled sheets and the duvet strewn across the floor.
 

“You always sleep in a man’s shirt?”

I arch an eyebrow at my fake brother. “Sometimes I just sleep naked.”

He rolls his eyes and picks up the phone on my bedside table. “My sister and I would like to have brunch on her terrace.”
 

“Could you ask the chef to make me something hearty? Maybe a grilled cheese and roasted tomato sandwich?”
 

I’m starved. Must be from all the calories I burned with Daniel last night.
 

Ari lets the kitchen know what we’d like and then holds up the invitation. “This is from the Queen.”

“So, the flowers must be from the Prince,” I say, hiding my personal disappointment even though I am actually professionally thrilled they’re from him. It means he’s interested. I pop the seal, pull the card out, and read aloud. “
Please accept these flowers as a token of my sincerest apologies regarding the events yesterday. I’d be delighted if you would accompany me to the Queen’s Garden Party today as well as the fashion show this evening. Sincerely, Lorenzo
.” I open the larger gilded envelope to find an inner envelope with both my name and Ari’s, followed by a formal invitation to the tea. I toss it to him. “Looks like you’re invited, too.”

“You’re playing him well,” Ari says. “I’m impressed. I’m also impressed with your quick thinking yesterday. I wasn’t sure if you were just theory and promise.”

“Is this your first mission?”

“With the CIA, yes. But I’ve been on special ops missions in the Army.”

“Have you ever killed anyone?” I ask, tilting my head. Sometimes I wonder if I could really do it. Hitting targets with rubber bullets and in simulations is a lot different than seeing it happen in front of you. I should know.

He looks down. “Yes, I have.”

“I haven’t. You’re right to have concerns about me. I’m well-trained and prepared but not yet field tested. Ari, what was your mission? Like, what did they tell you?”

“No one told me anything. I was simply given an envelope. Inside it was a single card with my mission. To uncover the person or persons behind the plot to assassinate the Prince of Montrovia.”

“What color was it? The envelope.”

“It was pink and covered with glitter, rainbows, and unicorns.” He rolls his eyes at me. “What do you think? It was a nondescript plain white envelope with a plain white card inside with black print.” He studies me. “What color was yours?”

“Same,” I lie, realizing that my mission was slightly different. While I, too, was ordered to uncover the plot, my mission varied in that I am supposed to also both protect the Prince and eliminate those responsible. I think about my training. I was taught to kill a
man with nothing more than a paper clip. I can tail a mark without his knowledge. And, once during training, I jumped out of a three-story building using an embroidered hankie as a parachute. I was the star student at Blackwood Academy. Only instead of excelling at normal collegiate activities like keg stands and frat parties, I’m an expert marksman, unbeaten in hand-to-hand combat, and impossible for even the school’s best to tail. “Is that all it said?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

“Yeah, it is,” I lie, opening the gift. Inside are three smaller boxes. One with the golden gown I was trying on the day I met the Prince.
 

“That’s quite the dress,” Ari says, as I hold up the dreamy golden masterpiece. Under the gown are a pair of Jimmy Choo sandals and a complementary clutch.
 

“I had it on when we met. Well, actually, I was looking at ties when we met, but then he came over to the women’s side and introduced himself when I was standing in front of the mirror in this.

“Must have made an impression. Do you think this will work? Getting close to him? I feel like being close to him might only allow us to protect him. To react to an attempt.”

“My orders were a little different than yours,” I confess.
 

“How so?”

“I was told to get close to and protect him.” I don’t mention the part about killing the bad guys.

“So I’m the sleuth, and you’re the bodyguard?”

I shrug. “Maybe. But I think you’re right. We have to figure out who’s behind this. I feel like we aren’t making any progress.”