Page 33 of My Super Sexy Spy
Maybe he just liked subjugating women. Maybe he had some kink thing when it came to helpless victims under his control.
Or maybe he hadn’t been lying when he said he’d been lying about not being into me…
Okay, now I was just confusing myself. I really wished I could message Leigh.
I followed him down a narrow hallway, second guessing myself the whole way. What was I doing here with him? What if he wasn’t the good guy? Sure, he was American, but did that mean I was just supposed to trust a liar because we shared the same flag?
He stopped in front of a door and used an actual key to open the lock. I thought about last night and his stumbling drunk routine.
“Were you even drunk last night?”
“No,” he admitted. “I was saving you from The Douchebag.”
“So Ivan had no intention of fucking me. He was going to torture me for answers instead.”
Ted-not-Ted lifted his eyebrows. “Oh, don’t be so naïve. He would have fucked you first, then tortured you later. Dmitri is not what you would call a good guy.”
“Dmitri?”
“That’s his name. Dmitri the Douchebag. He doesn’t like that last part, but I do, so there it is.”
“You two know each other?”
Ted-not-Ted shrugged. “We’ve run into each other a time or two.”
“Why even bother lying about your names?” I asked, walking over and sitting on the hard, squeaky mattress.
“It helps create the role. A new character. A new person even. The more I’m Ted the sportswriter with the baseball hats and thick glasses, the more you believe that.”
“Okay, well, I know Ted is a fraud, so who are you?”
He sat on the bed next to me. “I’m…John?”
I rolled my eyes. So not believable.
“Look, I can’t tell you. Government secrets and all that. Just call me Ted for now to make things simple.”
“How about I call you asshole. That will make things simple for me.”
He got off the bed and went to lean against the wall. His arms were crossed over his chest and I could see the muscled biceps escaping the short sleeves of the T-shirt he’d been wearing.
Lean, narrow, but strong, arms. Really strong. Strong like you wanted to bite them.
Seriously, why did my sex thoughts around this guy involve teeth?
But I couldn’t think about sex now because I was thrust into some international spy thing.
“So spill it. Why did Ivan-slash-Dimitri kidnap me?”
Ted seemed to consider my question, but I’d already heard things. Things about my father. I knew the feds were looking for him and believed I might have contact with him.
“You said you don’t know your father,” Ted began.
“I don’t.”
“He knows you,” Ted said. “In fact, he basically announced to the world he knew about you when he called his newest innovation Legacy. His legacy. He told enough people close to him that his legacy was Beth Ryan. Which, given your nominal fame as a travel blogger, basically exposed you to the world of international technological brinksmanship.”
I blinked a few times. There was no way this could be real.
