Spy Girl (Spy Girl #1)

Clarice still has the actress cornered and is ranting. “Wouldn’t it be amazing if our culture didn’t thrive on conspicuous consumption? A small nation like ours would be the perfect place to take the project to the next level. That is, if the King would abolish the currency and let us all live in peace.”


“It seems pretty peaceful here already,” the actress says.

“We do live in peace, but that’s not the point. When there were terror attacks in Europe that killed a few hundred people the news was all over it, but when thousands died in genocide in Africa, no one said a word. It’s that kind of inequity that the project would change. Not to mention the industries that are ruining our planet. Do you eat meat?”

“Uh, yeah,” the actress admits, sounding a bit ashamed.

“Did you know that way back in 2006 a report was released by the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations that states the livestock sector is a major stressor on many ecosystems and on the planet as a whole? Did you know that agriculture releases the most greenhouse gas emission, even more than the transportation sector? Not to mention the horrific treatment of the innocent animals.”

I think she’s going to stop ranting, but she continues. “The industry has even made up names for our food to make us feel better about what we are eating. Instead of Foie gras, escargot, veal, and caviar, we should call them what they are: unnaturally fattened duck livers, snails, baby calves, and fish eggs.”

Allie, who must be eavesdropping, too, looks at me and makes a gagging gesture, which causes me to stifle a laugh.

A waiter emerges from a door just behind us with a flute of champagne on a platter and presents it to the Prince. He takes it. I’m thinking it’s kind of rude that there’s only one glass when I notice that the waiter is wearing black gloves instead of the normal white ones.

A chain reaction quickly takes place in my body. My heart races, my breathing speeds up, and my muscles are on high alert ready to strike.

Something’s not right.

In a split second, I process the waiter’s military short haircut. Buff body. The tattoo snaking up his neck.

The Prince moves the glass toward his lips.

“Wait! Don’t drink that!” I yell, reacting quickly by grabbing his arm.

I give Ari a look and he stealthily leaves the room, hopefully to chase the man, who I watch run out of another door.

Both Lorenzo and I are quickly surrounded by his bodyguards.

Juan, his personal guard, asks me, “Why shouldn’t he drink it? What do you know?”

I realize I must act dumb. My being able to stay close to the Prince depends on them believing what I say next.

“Uh, I don’t know anything. I just thought it was weird.”

“What was weird?”

“The waiter came out of the kitchen with only one glass of champagne instead of a tray full, and he had on black gloves instead of white ones.” I look straight at the Prince. “I mean, I don’t know how things go here in Montrovia, but I’d hate to see you end up as a plaything in a frat house getting taken advantage of.” I purposefully giggle. “Oh, wait. That doesn’t make sense. Maybe I’ve had too much champagne.” What I’m about to say next is a total conflict, but I have to say it. I ready my hand to knock the drink away in case they call my bluff. I’ll blow the mission if I have to, to keep him safe. “You’re right, I’m being dumb. Who’d bother to roofie the future King? Everyone already knows he’s easy. I just reacted, it’s probably fine to drink.”

The Prince chuckles and considers this by looking at his glass.

“Don’t,” his bodyguard says sternly. “Give me the glass.” He speaks into his cuff, alerting the police, then takes the glass carefully. “Miss Von Allister had a good gut reaction. Better safe than sorry. We’ll take care of this. You enjoy the rest of the party.”





X X X





Ari takes off on a run after the black-gloved waiter, but the man has a large lead.

By the time he gets outside, the man has taken off his waiter’s jacket and is hopping onto a motorcycle. Ari presses a button on his phone and communicates with Ellis.

Ellis is moving the limo toward the street when the motorcycle screams its way around the corner. The man is riding a black Ducati with no identification tags. Ellis throws the car into park, jumps out, and taps his cane hard on the ground causing a steel baton to emerge from its core. He sticks the baton out just as the assailant drives by and knocks the man off the bike.

The assailant rolls to the ground with a grunt, but quickly pops up, pulling a slim gun out of his coat and aiming it at Ellis.

Ellis leaps toward him with surprising grace for someone of his age and clips the man with the baton, knocking the gun free. Ari who has been sprinting to catch up, grabs the gun off the pavement and levels it at the man, telling him not to move.

The man doesn’t listen. He kicks the gun out of Ari’s hand and punches at his face. Ari avoids the contact and throws a series of punches of his own, all connecting and leaving the man dazed. Ari gives the man another blow, knocking him down to the ground.