Spy Girl (Spy Girl #1)

“Then I drove us here, got to meet the King and show him my car—oh gosh, tell me my car didn’t get shot.”


“It did not,” he says. “The breach was between the public part of the castle and the Prince’s residence.”

I already know that based on where the shots were coming from, but I don’t say that. That’s not something a normal girl would probably know, plus I need intel. “What happened?”

“Let’s not worry about that. How is it you met the Prince again?”

“Why does it sound like—wait, you keeping me in this room for the last hour and now the questions. You don’t think I had anything to do with whatever happened, do you?” I widen my eyes and turn to the Prince. “Does he? Do you? You were going out there! I stopped you!”

I clench my jaw and cross my arms in apparent outrage at my realization, looking pissed and betrayed.

“I’d like to go home now.”

“We aren’t finished questioning you,” the general says.

“Fine. You may finish questioning me, but I won’t answer another question if I have to look at him while doing so.” I nod toward the Prince.

“Huntley, I’m—” the Prince says.

I give him a defiant look and flip him the bird, causing the general to shoo him out of the room.

I’m questioned for another thirty minutes—where I learn nothing new—before I’m allowed to get in my car and drive home.





X X X





I pass through the gates of the villa and pull the car into the garage, hoping Ari has learned more than I have about the attack.

“Do you know anything?” I ask, plopping down on the couch, happy to see that the news of the castle assault caused the party to dwindle down to nothing.

“Only what we have learned on the news, which isn’t much. You were there, what happened?”

“Two gunmen with automatic weapons entered the hallway that connects to the Prince’s residence. They were moving down the hall, room by room from the sound of it, and in a very military fashion.”

“Do we know where they are holding them?”

“At the morgue, I assume. They’re dead.”

“How do you know that?”

I hold up my phone. “Eavesdropping app.”

“So now what?”

“I think we talk about the Prince. He’s reckless. His bodyguard does whatever the Prince tells him to do, whether or not it’s in his best interest. I didn’t study up on the Palace Guard, but the fact that the gunmen were able to get inside the palace is pretty concerning, but then I drove in with the Prince, and no one checked me or my car for bombs or weapons. Once inside, I had free run of the place.”

“That is concerning,” Ari agrees. “We’re just going to have to stay close to him in order to protect him. I really thought an attempt on his life would happen during an event outside the castle.”

“Do you think they planned to shoot him or kidnap him?”

“What makes you ask that?”

“I can’t imagine what their escape plan would have been for a kidnapping,” I say.

“Maybe they knew it was a suicide mission. If a terror organization is behind this, that would make sense.”

“Or maybe they knew about the passageways and assumed, like I did, there was a secret one only the Prince would know about.”

“Why would they want to kidnap him though? That doesn’t make sense. I think they were there to kill.”

“I don’t know. Control him. Threaten him. Make him do what they want,” I suggest.

“Or maybe this was a dry run to see how far they could get. It’s not like the Montrovian military protocol is on the Internet like the Secret Service.”

“A dry run for what exactly?” I ask.

“Maybe they were looking for a place to plant a bomb. The Queen’s Ball is the week’s big finale. Remember we talked about a bomb as a possible way to take out most of the Montrovian heirs to the throne?”

“I don’t know,” I disagree. “We were told the threat was specific to the Prince.”

Ellis joins us, bringing a decanter of water and a tray of sandwiches.

“What I wouldn’t give for a Jersey Mike’s right now,” Ari says.

“What is that?” Ellis asks.

“The most amazing sub sandwich you have ever tasted. I get the Giant, over a foot long full of turkey and provolone and done up Mike’s way with onions, lettuce, tomatoes, olive oil, red wine vinegar, and spices. It’s heaven on bread.”

Ellis points at the tray of petite, crustless finger sandwiches. “This will have to suffice for now.” He hands me a note then leaves the room.

There is just one sentence inside the note, which I read to Ari. “Intelligence chatter regarding crown. Keyword: Terra.”