Page 65 of The Angel and the Agent

“Oh,” she doubled over, clutching her chest.

He rested his hand on her back, alarmed. “What is it?”

“I got this huge rush of emotion, so big and so sudden that it physically hurt for a second. Or maybe it was that mystery food we ate from the unlicensed street vendor. But I’m pretty sure it was love.”

“Do you want to kiss me or throw up right now?” he asked.

“Kind of both, but I think kissing is winning,” she said. She sat up on her knees and advanced on him, knocking him back onto the bed as she tackled him. They kissed for a while, and it was definitely leading somewhere other than food poisoning when Amelia suddenly sat up and reached for her passport.

“I figured it out,” she said, waving the passport in Ethan’s face.

“What?” he asked. His brain was having trouble catching up to the fact that she was no longer in his embrace and using words.

“Why Blue put all the random countries on my passport. If you take the first letter from each country, it spells out a message.” She showed him, and he read out loud.

“You owe me big.”

“I can’t believe he made up eleven fake country visits to send me a secret message. No wonder he sent me to Oman twice,” shesaid, smiling at the passport in recognition of Blue’s skill as a prankster.

“This was what you were thinking about as I was kissing you?” Ethan asked.

“Among other things.”

He plucked the passport from her fingers and tossed it onto the nightstand. “Let’s try this again and in fifteen minutes, if you’re able to think of anything at all besides me and what we’re doing here, I’ve failed in my objective.”

Fifteen minutes later, she pulled away to say two breathless words to him: “Mission accomplished.”

Chapter 23

He bought her a dress. Men had bought her gifts before—flowers, chocolate, and the like. Piedmont had even given her a ridiculously extravagant pair of sapphire earrings she now felt compelled to return. But in Ethan’s case it felt like something more, mostly because she guessed he had never bought a woman anything. Not only did he buy it for her, but he got up early while she was still sleeping, checked the size in the tag of her t-shirt, sneaked to a local merchant, and returned in time to surprise her with it when she woke. It was a simple white cotton sundress, but to Amelia it was better than anything she’d ever owned because it was imbued with so much meaning.

Now that she had a modicum of makeup and access to a hair dryer, she spent a while in the bathroom getting ready so that when she emerged clean, fresh, and wearing the new dress, she felt a bit like an actual bride. Ethan must have thought so, too, if his awed reaction was any indication. He was so enthusiastic about her appearance in the new dress that he promptly removed it. Two hours later, they began again and finally left the hotel.

They went to a museum and strolled hand in hand, enjoying the artwork. When that was finished, they strolled through streets and shops, stopping to look, but not to buy. It might have felt like any day in DC except Amelia was the only one who could understand what people were saying. When they grew hungry, they went to an upscale, sit-down restaurant, the first non-street food they’d had in days. When the meal finished, they walked hand in hand back to their hotel, talking and laughing. A boy of about fourteen passed them and then, without warning, grabbed Amelia’s wrist and yanked her to him, holding a knife to her side.

“Money.” His accent was so thick, it was clear he had learned the word for the sole purpose of robbing English-speaking tourists. Amelia could read the expression in Ethan’s face, could foresee the complete destruction he was about to reap on their unsuspecting robber.

“He’s a boy,” Amelia said. “A child.”

Ethan took a breath, and then another. Slowly, his fingers relaxed and unclenched. “Tell him I’m a mercenary who works forLes Irakiens de Bonaloka. Tell him you’re their property, and if he doesn’t get his hands off you, they’ll destroy him and his entire family.”

Amelia relayed the information. Before visiting Africa, she never imagined listing herself as anyone’s property, nor that it would keep her safe from being mugged. But it worked. The boy dropped her and ran off, a terrified expression on his face.

“Do you want to tell me why that worked?” Amelia asked, straightening and brushing her dress.

“The group I listed is a gang in Doula. They’re more terrifying than anything I could have done to him. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she assured him.

“I’ve been with other civilians in the field, and you’re by far the calmest,” he noted.

“They must not have known or trusted you like I do,” she said. “I’m safe with you, I know that.”

“Thank you for that, and thank you for stopping me from destroying that kid. It would have been a terrible thing to live with.”

“You’re welcome.”

“The only problem is that I have all this unspent adrenaline rushing through me. I’m afraid I’m going to need an outlet.”

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