Page 98 of The Spy Ring

THIRTY-THREE

Tiffany

2 Months Later

“I liked it,” I said as we stepped out of the petite apartment building and onto the street.

“That one was too small. Plus, it had a weird smell,” David said as we turned the corner of the street and walked away from the fifth apartment we had looked at this past week.

It had been two months since the first time Henrik and Morgana tried to get married. They did it again a week later, but just a small affair at city hall. Then we all went out to dinner at a wonderful Italian restaurant where the owner—a small woman with rather large hips—kept fawning over Morgana.

Which Morgana didn’t mind as the woman made her a special “bridal” cake. Just for her. I think if Henrik and Morgana ever divorce, Morgana had her eyes on the owner.

“You said the last one was too big, as if that should ever be a problem in a home. Now this one is too small.” I shook my head at my very independent son who seemed to find something wrong with every place we went to. At this rate, we’ll never move out of our current apartment and our lease was up at the end of the month.

“I’m just not feeling these apartments. We need something that says we’re wise and know a thing or two about the world.” David fanned his hands out as we walked by shops.

I rolled my eyes. The entire wedding event went straight to my son’s head.

Since David was shot he felt the need to show the scar to everyone he met. His friends all thought he was the coolest person in the world. I had to finally put an end to it when he tried to show his scar to the checkout woman at the grocery store. I kept getting weird looks from adults, as they seemed to assume I was somehow involved with him being shot.

“What about this place?” David came to a stop and pointed at what looked like a gym.

There was a sign in the window that said apartment for rent. Before I had a chance to get a good look, David grabbed my hand and pulled me along. How could a boy grow so much and gain such strength in a matter of a few months? He was now taller than me.

David opened the door and we stepped inside. There were floor mats, a large punching bag that hung from the ceiling in the corner, and some things I recognized from what David had used in PT. I wondered what sort of gym this was.

“No one is here, David. It’s noon. They’re probably at lunch. We should go.” I tried to tug my son back toward the door.

“Wouldn’t they lock the place before leaving it. Come on, Mom.” David gave me his perfected I’m smarter than you because I’m ateenager voice.

“That’s true, but—” I stopped talking and perhaps, stopped breathing as a man walked through a door from the back and into the room.

“Jagger.” I found my breath and voice once his green eyes found me.

He stopped the moment he saw me. The man hadn’t changed. His body still firm and thick like a tree trunk. It suddenly seemed hot in the gym as I stared at the black T-shirt that hugged his chest. I had to take off my red scarf and navy wool coat for fear I might pass out.

“Tiffany. David. What are you two doing here?” he asked and I had to glance away at the flicker of hope I saw in his eyes.

“We’re here for the apartment for rent,” David said before I could stop him.

“Actually, I think we should look somewhere else.” I turned to my son to indicate we were leaving. “David.”

“I want to see it. I think it would be cool to live over a gym.” David pulled away and stepped closer to Jagger.

Jagger’s eyes bounced between me and my son. “Maybe your mom is right. I’ve told you before, David, your mom wouldn’t like this.”

“Before?” I tilted my head to my son—whose cheeks turned crimson and eyes fell to the floor. “What does he mean by that, David?”

“Uh, nothing.” David shook his head and tried to walk toward the door before my arm reached out to stop him.

“No, it’s something. Tell me.”

“Ugh, fine.” David’s head fell back as he groaned. “I found out Jagger opened his ninja gym and I came here to sign up for classes.”

My eyes widened, and I glanced over at Jagger. “You let him sign up for ninja lessons without me knowing about it?”

Jagger held up his hands. “No, absolutely not. I told him he had to get your permission first. There’s even a form that requires a parent’s signature. Which he tried to hand back with the worst forged signature I’d ever seen.”

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