Spy Girl (Spy Girl #1)

“Who do you work for?” Ari questions, sitting on top of the man, his hands wrapped around the man’s neck, almost cutting off his oxygen.


The man gives Ari a defiant look, then head butts him, causing Ari to go crashing backwards. The man gets up, only to be shot in the arm by Ellis. The man grabs his bicep and attempts to run back to his bike. Ari stops him with another blow to the head just as the authorities arrive. They quickly take the man into custody, thank Ari and Ellis for their service to Montrovia, and leave.

What they don’t know is that before they left, Ari managed to place a small tracking and recording device on the man.

Ari and Ellis calmly go back to the limo and follow the police to the detention center.

They record and listen to the authorities’ first—and very useless—round of questioning. The assailant refuses to answer anything.

When they take a break, Ari slips unnoticed into the center and into the questioning room, only to find the man dead.

Foam leaks out of his mouth.

Ari takes a vial from his jacket pocket, scoops up some of the foam, and leaves the facility as stealthily as he came.





X X X





The Prince leads me to the bar and orders a stiff drink. After his earlier uneasy conversation combined with a possible attempted poisoning, I can see why he needs one.

“Would you like to go home now?” I ask him. “It’s been a long day.”

He gently brushes my hair from my face and kisses me, avoiding telling me what’s troubling him and saying instead, “I’ve enjoyed your company immensely.”

“As I have yours.”

“I’m looking forward to our bath tomorrow.”

“Me too.”

He glances at his watch. “I guess it already is tomorrow. How would you feel about coming home with me now?”

I know what he’s asking.

I bite the corner of my lip nervously and lower my head slightly. “Um . . .”

He takes his finger and raises my chin. “It’s okay. We should move slowly. This. Us.”

He leans in to kiss me again, but we are separated by guards. “Come this way, quickly.”

We’re escorted to a waiting limo and taken to the castle.

I lean toward him and whisper. “Is this really how you get a girl to come home with you?”

He laughs heartily then rolls the partition down and asks Juan what’s going on.

“We’ll discuss it when we are in the safety of the castle, Your Highness,” he replies formally. Usually, he calls him Lorenzo.

When we get to the castle, we’re whisked down a hall to the War Room, and I’m introduced to Admiral Philipe Lamonte, the Joint Chief of the Montrovian armed forces.

Admiral Lamonte gets in my face. “Why did you suspect the Prince’s drink to be tainted? And I’d like you to be very specific. Tell me everything you can remember.”

His attitude tells me that I was right about the champagne. But I have to keep playing dumb.

I can’t blow my cover.

“Uh, well, like I told Juan, the waiter came out of the door and headed straight toward us. He only had one glass on his tray, which I thought was both odd and kinda rude, because I would have taken another glass. Mine wasn’t actually empty, but it had gotten warm. When he presented it to the Prince, I thought maybe it was something special for him, but I didn’t remember him ordering anything. It’s like the first thing they teach us in college, never drink something you didn’t pour or order yourself. Which, obviously, only really relates to frat parties and club drinks because I have been drinking champagne off silver platters since I got here. It’s just that the platters always come out full, and the waiters always wear white gloves, not black ones like this guy had. Really, it was the black gloves that gave me pause. And then when he walked straight out the other door. I’m sorry if I caused a scene. I didn’t mean to. I highly doubt anyone would want to roofie the Prince.” I laugh. “Well, except maybe for a few enthusiastic females who might want to bear a royal heir.”

“Describe the man.”

I try to make my description sound normal. Wordy. Not like a rap sheet. “Uh, he was shorter than me in heels, so like five-ten, maybe. He had short blond hair, light skin. There was a tattoo peeking out of his collar, but I couldn’t see the design. He looked like he could have been of Slavic descent, maybe.”

“Your brother, Ari, chased a man of that description. He and your driver fought and managed to subdue the man until the authorities came and took him into custody.”

“So what did you find out?” Lorenzo asks.

“Nothing, other than that he is Russian,” the admiral replies.

“Russian? First a German and a Moroccan, now a Russian? What, is the whole world out to get me?” the Prince asks. “Did you question him? Find out who he is working for?”

“We did not. He killed himself with the same poison found in your glass, a cyanide salt compound. You would have been dead within minutes.” He turns to me. “You have done a great service to our country, Miss Von Allister. We cannot thank you enough.”