Page 78 of Spies Like Us

“I want to learn to play the drums, and maybe take some cooking lessons,” I blurt out, and he turns me so he can see my face.

“What?” He sounds confused, and I pat his cheek.

“Keep up with the conversation. We’ve moved on, and I’m telling you the kind of hobbies I’m interested in.”

His confusion clears, and he smirks. “The drums? Yeah, I can see that.” The smirk grows. “Miller plays the drums.”

My head flops back against his arm, and I roll my eyes. “Of course he does.”

“I’m sure he would teach you. I’m sure he would give you plenty of incentive to get his instructions right.”

“I’m listening,” I say, and he chuckles.

“What time is your plane leaving?” he asks, changing the subject and not elaborating on said incentives. It’s okay, I can be patient.

“Two, so I arrive back in Summerville at about four. Martha said she would pick me up from the airport. Do you want to catch the flight with me? We can tell her you were at the gala and the college dean offered you use of the plane. It isn’t a lie.”

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. Dad has a fundraising dinner tonight, and he wants me to go since I’m in town. I won’t head back to Summerville until after. Dad’s letting me use his jet. It’s how I got here so quickly. It was the trade-off for sending it down for me yesterday.”

I feel a wave of disappointment. “Bummer, but okay. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow in class.”

He groans. “I can’t wait for this mission to be over. I’m done teaching. Have I told you how horrible it is?”

I run my hand through his short hair. “Poor baby. I bet I can make your day a little more fun. How about I pop in and see you at lunchtime, and we can play in your chair for real?”

I feel him grow hard underneath me. The robes we wear are doing nothing to hide it.

“It’s a deal.” He stands up, carrying me bridal style, and walks back to bed. “I still have two more hours to monopolize your time, and I’m going to make the most of it. I’m going to have to go back to sharing you with others when we return.”

He tosses me on the bed, and I point between us. “If this thing works, then we are going to need little one-on-one getaways regularly, so that you all get a little extra attention.”

I see his approval in his eyes as he strips off his robe. Words fail me as he crawls up the bed and takes my mouth with his, and I fall back, allowing him to worship me for a little longer.

The plane ride is uneventful and quiet without Katie. I use the small bathroom on the plane to remove my wig and change back into my Mac persona—heavy on the eyeliner, and I cover the two big hickeys on my neck—then I sit back and close my eyes until we land. I’m still trying to catch up on my sleep, and I know the next few days are going to be eventful.

Max and I called the team earlier, and Lathan said that bidding started on the auction, but there were still three empty places. We hypothesized that maybe they are for me and Miller, which is what we were planning. Once we are taken, it will simply be a matter of tracking our chips to wherever they are planning to take us.

Arrests will be made all around, and this end of the trafficking ring will be shut down—or that’s the plan. It seems too easy, so things are bound to go wrong.

When the plane lands, I wave to Ben and leave, clutching my backpack. He quickly turns the plane around and taxis out to the runway before I can even walk all the way to the hangar. The sky is overcast, and Martha’s car isn’t here, so I decide to wait over there until she arrives in case it rains.

The MITHOS plane launches into the air, and I slide the hangar door open, peering around for somewhere to wait. A clash of thunder has me jumping out of my skin, and a little squeal escapes my mouth. Some freaking spy I am, scared of a little thunder. The sky opens up, and I pull the hangar door closed behind me. It’s empty, except for an old work van and some tools on one side. There’s a desk chair next to the tool bench, and I decide that’s as good a place as any to wait.

I grab my seat, dropping my bag at my feet. The rain is incredibly heavy and loud on the roof of this tin shed. I pull my phone out of my pocket to see if there are any missed messages from Martha telling me she’s going to be late, but there’s nothing. That’s strange. I’ll give her ten minutes, and if she doesn’t arrive, I’ll call one of the guys to come and get me.

I spin around a couple of times on the chair, kicking my legs back and forth, bored out of my mind. There aren’t any games on my phone, and I am really regretting that right now. I stand up and fiddle with the tools on the bench, picking them up before putting them down again. I lift a wrench. It has good weight, and I bet it would make a great weapon. I’m just about to put it back when I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. I spin around, wrench in hand, and lash out, but it’s too late. Blinding pain radiates through my skull, and I drop to the ground.

My head throbs, and my mouth feels like ass as I try to remember what happened. I was on the plane coming home, and then Martha wasn’t there. The hangar! Someone was in the hangar, but because of the rain, I hadn’t heard them. Fuck, Dad may as well revoke my MITHOS clearance. I’m a terrible spy. I try to open my eyes, but they aren’t cooperating yet—same with my body. It just feels like one, big, throbbing open wound. What the hell happened?

I listen to figure out if I’m still in the hangar or not, and that’s when I hear shouting.

“Did you see the papers? He was photographed with that fucking princess last night.” There’s no denying the screeching tones of Stella Standish.

“Stella, pull yourself together. We have all that blackmail material, and we will bring him to heel as soon as he returns to Summerville.” That’s her mother, June.

“And what about that whore? What are we doing about her?” she asks, and I know she’s talking about me.

“We just listed her on the website, and there are already bids in the six figures for her. Not all of our clients want virgins, some of them want whores who are happy to do anything.”

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