Spy Girl (Spy Girl #1)

Gallagher rolls his eyes and smiles. “I’ve created a monster.”


He presses harder on the accelerator. “Just tell me where to go.”

“I don’t know for sure, but keep going north, that’s the direction they were headed.”

I open the app Terrance installed on both my and Ari’s phones, praying Ari actually did put a tracker on Clarice, and hopefully himself or the Prince. There are colored dots sprinkled on a map. The dots don’t have names. Two of the dots are literally on top of each other in the location of the Prince’s cousins’ mansion. Must be Viktor and Ophelia going at it. They did sneak out of the ball early.

There’s a single dot in a separate part of the house, but that doesn’t make sense. Why would someone kidnap them and take them there?

I widen the map’s scope and find more dots. One appears to be circling the other.

“Here,” I shout over the engine’s roar. “This has to be them.”

I point to a right turn. Gallagher squeals the tires, barely making the corner, then we scream off toward the docks, and hopefully to Ari and the Prince.





X X X





The fog lifts from Ari’s mind. Small flashes of consciousness. Lights and sounds. He can’t move. The tightness of ropes is cutting across his arms, chest, and ankles.

The light is dim. His head sways uncontrollably. He sees benches and machines. He’s in a warehouse, and by the look of the dirt, an unused one.

The Prince is tied to a chair beside him. His head is slumped forward. Behind him, there is movement. He feels a blow across the back of his head. His balance swims, and he screws his eyes shut.

“The tranquilizers are wearing off,” a voice says. A female voice.

Ari forces his eyes back open. There are men in military fatigues patrolling the room, watching from windows.

A woman has her back to Ari. She checks her watch. “Is the boat ready?”

It’s the same woman’s voice. A nagging memory swirls in his foggy mind.

“Ready for departure,” says one of the men.

The woman stands in front of Ari for a minute. He keeps his head low, avoiding eye contact, trying to get his brain to work. To figure out what happened. But then he remembers the sting in his neck. The realization that he was shot with something. He shakes the grogginess from his head while he tries to assess his situation.

The woman turns around and swings her arm at Ari, slapping him across the face. He jerks his head up, his eyes wide.

“You were snooping around my house,” she yells. “What did you see?”

Ari shakes his head. “I don’t know what you are talking about. Why do you have us tied up?”

She leans closer to him. “You’re lying. I’m going to ask one more time before I kill you. And if you don’t give me the right answer, I’m going to kill your airhead sister just for fun. What. Did. You. See?”

The Prince lifts his head. Ari can see him fighting against the drug in his system. The Prince rocks from side to side, trying to figure out why he can’t move, then the realization.

He sees his cousin yelling at Ari and says, “What’s going on? Why are we tied up? Why are you threatening him?”

His cousin moves to stand in front of him and gives his face a slap. “You, my cousin, are about to be put on a boat and taken out to sea, never to be seen again. Then I will rule Montrovia.”

She grabs two handkerchiefs and shoves them in their mouths, so no one will hear them scream when they are fed to the sharks.





X X X





Spy Girl is directing Gallagher through the industrial area surrounding the docks.

“Does anyone ever call you Bill?” she asks.

“No,” he replies.

“How about Will?”

“No.”

“No nicknames? Nothing anyone calls you?”

“Nope.”

“Weird,” she says, but she’s disappointed. She wishes he would have told her the truth about who he is. She looks back down at her phone. “Oh, wait! Turn right, right here! Then a quick left. Okay, now stop.”

He draws the Jaguar up to a quiet halt and puts the car in park.

“I’ll walk the rest of the way,” she says.

“You are not going anywhere. It’s much too dangerous. Stay in the car.”

She doesn’t have time to persuade or argue. This is her mission, and she has no idea which side he’s really on. When the man known as Intrepid looks around, sizing up the area, she gets ready. When he looks back at her, she throws her arm out, violently driving the heel of her palm to his jaw. His head snaps back, bouncing off the headrest, and he slumps forward. Out.

“Sorry,” she says quietly as she jumps out of the car and tears down the street, checking the location app and slowing as she gets closer. She stays in the shadows to analyze her surroundings.

Old warehouse by the water.

Two men guarding the perimeter. No automatic weapons. Each armed with a pistol.

The roof is tinged with moonlight. She sees no sign of activity.

No snipers on the roof.

Dim light filters from a window. It flickers as figures pass by. Once. Twice.

Two more men inside.