Page 29 of My Super Sexy Spy
I knew she’d never been out of the country. I knew she worked from her home in Philadelphia. Hell, I knew up until a few weeks ago she had a loser boyfriend named Jared.
There wasn’t anything about Beth I didn’t know, because The Douchebag was right: Beth was thetarget.
She had been ever since her father had escaped U.S. custody with an invention that could change the world. Technology that the U.S. wanted. That Russia wanted. Hell, that every country would want. Hence the plethora of spies descending on Italy the minute Beth’s plane landed in Rome.
But I got to her first. So, it was my job to protect her.
“Sorry,” I said with a shrug. “But you’re going to have to put her down and walk away.”
“You know this is something I cannot do. I have orders from the President of Russia himself to bring Gino back to our country. So that he can help us with…our little problem.”
I snorted. “It’s not America’s fault Russia keeps blowing up nuclear shit in their own country.”
“This is not the time for debate. This is the time for answers. From her. About where her father is.”
“I’m telling you. She doesn’t have a clue.”
He smirked. “Yes, and you’ve always been so good at telling the truth…Ted.”
He started walking backward and I lifted my gun in his direction. He shifted Beth so she covered most of his body, as if I wouldn’t take a shot because I was worried about hitting her.
I wasn’t. I could take out his kneecap no problem. I was just about to do that when, all of a sudden, I saw her move. Her head and arms were draped down his back, her legs down his front. I watched her scissor kick her legs and aim her heavy, red, funky shoes directly into his crotch.
Then he was screaming and arching his back and I got the impression she might have been biting him in the ass.
Cute little kitten with some pretty fierce claws. Her attack was enough to drop the Russian to his knees and, once on her feet, she brought her knee up into his chin, laying him out flat.
“Holy shit, Beth.”
She turned toward me then, a wild look in her eye. I put my gun slowly back in my ankle holster then lifted my hands in the air.
“I’m not sure how much you heard, Beth…”
She turned and started running down the alley in the direction the Russian—I knew for a fact his name was not Ivan—had been taking her.
“Shit,” I muttered. Instead of being able to reason with her, now I was going to have to chase her ass around Florence.
And I’d just eaten all that pasta, too.
One deep breath and I took off after her. Knowing there were others out there who would stop at nothing to capture her.
7
Beth
I stoppedto catch my breath. Bent over, halfway down another narrow street, I checked both ends of the alley. No sign of Ted. No sign of Ivan.
What. The. Fuck?
I’d come to after being zapped only to find myself draped over Ivan’s shoulder. My first thought was that he was a serial killer and wasn’t it just my luck to find the one fucking serial killer in Italy on my very first trip!
Then I’d heard Ted. I’d been about to shout out for his help when I heard words liketargetandfatherandtorture.
Holy shit. I was a fucking travel blogger. I wasn’t a target.
And I didn’t have a father. I didn’t even have a father who knew I existed.
This was obviously some colossal case of mistaken identity.
