Page 30 of My Super Sexy Spy
And who the fuck was Ted? Not a freaking baseball writer.
Think. You’re back on the streets. You’re in danger. What do you do?
That was easy. Stay hidden. If they can’t see you, they can’t grab you. I glanced up and down the alley; it was empty except for a few trash buckets next to a door that probably led to either a restaurant or a shop. If I went inside, maybe I could ask for help.
But who was that in Italy? The police. Did they help Americans? Who was that chick they arrested for murder because she didn’t cry when she found out about her friend being dead?
Was I going to be Italy’s next Amanda Knox?
Could I tell them I was some kind of target of international spies and have them not think I was crazy? Doubtful. I didn’t believe it and I knew it was true.
What about the U.S. embassy? That had to be in Rome. Could I manage to get to the train station in Florence, then get to Rome?
I considered the time. I didn’t know how late the trains ran, but it seemed unlikely I’d catch anything tonight. Besides, that was the most obvious place to look for me. The better option would be stealing a car, which, of course, would put me in trouble with the Italian police.
Shit! I was going to be locked up in an Italian fucking jail and no one was going to hear from me again.
Would Andrea care enough about a coffee-table book deal to send someone to find me? Would Leigh wonder why my blog suddenly stopped and call the FBI?
The FBI who already thought I had something to do with my father. This was insanity!
If I could find a computer, I could send a message to Leigh, but what the heck was she supposed to do from New Mexico?
The sad part was, in that moment, I wish I had my friend Ted from yesterday back. I could have told him I was the target of international spies and we would have had a good laugh about it.
That motherfucker. When I’d asked him the first time what he did for work, he freaking told me he was a spy and I’d laughed in his face!
I walked over to where the trash cans were and sunk down against the wall until my ass hit the cold bricks underneath me. The temperature had dropped a little, but it wasn’t so cold I had to worry about freezing.
I had no place to go, no one I trusted to ask for help. I obviously couldn’t go back to my hotel or try to make my way to the train station. I didn’t want to steal a car, so that left me with only one choice.
Staying still in this alley until the sun came up tomorrow, and I could think a little more clearly. My body ached all over. From the stun gun, from the all-out sprinting I’d done for what felt like miles.
Ted had been fast, but he hadn’t accounted for how good I was at losing people who were chasing me. A skill I’d picked up when trying to evade the police.
I pulled my knees in close to my chest and wrapped my arms around them to form a tight ball. Anyone glancing down the alley wouldn’t see me. Anyone walking down the alley would have to look hard to realize I was an actual human and not just another bag of trash sitting next to the other cans.
I dropped my head down on my knees and thought about trying to get some sleep. But there was no way that was going to happen. Because all of it kept playing over and over in my head.
Ivan with the stun gun. Torture. Father. Ted.
Target.
* * *
Liam
She was good. Maybe too good? She had me convinced she was nothing more than a slightly agoraphobic travel blogger with an amazing talent for describing things she’d never seen.
But that was not the full story. Because she’d managed to knock the Russian unconscious and she’d lost me like a seasoned professional. I started second-guessing myself about who she really was.
The streets were nearly empty at this hour of night. It had to be after midnight. She’d left her purse at the restaurant where we’d eaten, so I knew she didn’t have money or her cell phone.
No chance to slip into some hotel and get a room. No way to get an Uber or a cab. Or, for that matter, a train, if she was thinking of getting out of Florence, which was her most likely move.
So, if I were a slightly agoraphobic travel blogger and I’d just found out I was the target of spies who all thought I could lead them to a father I didn’t know, what would I do?
I’d panic. She wasn’t doing that. She was evading me.
