Page 44 of My Super Sexy Spy
Shaking my hand as if that would remove the sting, I looked to see what had caused the damage. Did she have a pin that had come undone? Something in the scarf.
I glanced up at her again and she seemed to have an expectant look on her face. But a second later that face became fuzzy. As if my whole body was suddenly out of my control.
“Miss, you don’t look good. Are you going to be sick?”
Sick? No, I didn’t think I was sick. I just felt super weird, all of a sudden. I stood and she wrapped her arm around my waist. She was surprisingly strong for someone so thin. And I couldn’t help but notice she had a nice rack.
She pushed, escorted me, whatever, to the front of the plane, but instead of helping me into the tiny bathroom, she asked a few people who were boarding to move aside for a medical emergency.
Where was the medical emergency?
People stepped aside and a door in the jet way opened. With a ladder leading down to the tarmac. There was a man there, someone I definitely didn’t recognize, wearing a yellow vest and an ID around his neck.
“We need to get her off the plane. She’s not well.”
Then the beefy guy picked me up and hauled me over his shoulder like I was a sack of potatoes.
“No,” I tried to say, but it came out muffled. He was backing down the ladder and then I was being flung into the back of an empty van.
“Don’t worry,” the attendant, who’d joined me in the back of the van, said. “We’re here to help you.”
Help me? But there was nothing wrong with me. I was fine. Except I wasn’t. I wasn’t on the plane going home. Instead, I was in the back of a van. I lifted my head and saw the flight attendant remove her jacket. She also pulled off the top of her hair. Holy shit, why was she doing that? Oh, wait, it had to be a wig.
Why was she wearing a wig?
I saw a tumble of dark hair fall down her back right before she slammed the doors of the van shut.
Then it all went dark.
11
Later that Night
Rome
Liam
I was sittingat the bar sipping my beer, pretending to watch the football match on television, when a familiar foe sat next to me.
“How did you find me?”
“Are you shitting me? This is your favorite bar in Rome,” Dmitri said in his familiar Russian accent. “Everyone knows to find you here, Captain America.”
I called him Dmitri the Douchebag. He called me Captain America. I was winning this game.
“She is gone?”
“She is,” I said.
I looked at my watch and realized she would be landing now. I’d already called my colleagues in the States to let them know she was coming. She would have an escort home and twenty-four-hour, round-the-clock watch.
Top brass was furious with me. So much so, they’d put me on suspension, pending an appeal. I knew the game. I should have used her as bait to draw Gino out. She was a tool to be wielded, and, like a sucker, I’d caved to my more human emotions.
I realized I was okay with that.
Fuckers. I’d been thinking about a career change anyway.
With her tucked away back in the States, it would be harder for Gino to reach her. Which meant I could be putting the future of The Legacy Project at risk.
