Merit Badge Murder Read Online Free PDF Page A

the wine and Oreos. Pulling back the Dora sheet, I saw it was dark outside. I'd been at this a while. I made my rounds, locking doors and getting ready for bed. Before I fell asleep, I wondered if Rex would still be interested in me if he knew the things I'd done. In my imagination—he loved it.

CHAPTER FOUR
     
    I was just having this dream where Riley and Rex had taken me surfing and both were rubbing lotion on my back when I was rudely interrupted by someone pounding at the door. I instinctively reached for the pistol that was not under my pillow. Old habits die hard. Instead, I got up, and after wrapping a robe around my Dora the Explorer pajamas (Seriously, I could relate to her.) I made my way to the front door.
    I looked through the Dora curtains at the front stoop. I really need to get a security camera, I decided. All I could see was the back of a very hot woman shoe-horned into a dress that seemed to be painted onto her. A thick cascade of wavy, blonde hair tumbled down her back. I hated her, whoever she was.
    Opening the door, I hated her even more.
    "What the hell are you doing here, Svetlana?" I was pissed. Twice in twenty-four hours I'd been visited by people I didn't want to be visited by. And in this particular case, I'd rather have the dead terrorists.
    Svetlana Babikova gave me a dazzling grin before pushing past me into the house. I sighed and shut the door behind her. The woman standing in front of me was a former Russian operative I'd turned to spying for the U.S. back in the early '00s. I hated her then, and I hated her now. Question was—what was she doing at my house? I'd have preferred her showing up respectfully dead, like the other two had.
    The drop-dead gorgeous woman winked at me and then made her way to my kitchen where she pulled a bottle of vodka out of the freezer and poured herself a shot. Fucking Russians. Well, former Russian, technically. But it didn't matter.
    "It's Lana, now, Finn." She drained the shot smoothly and poured another. Why did I even keep vodka in the freezer? In the house? It only encouraged them.
    "You're American accent is getting better, Lana ," I said as I pulled up a stool and sat at the breakfast bar. I really needed to get better furniture in my living room. If I didn't, the kitchen needed more comfortable stuff. I wondered if they made bar stools that reclined.
    "Thank you!" Lana's bright blue eyes grew wide, and she pouted her full, sensuous, red lips.
    "Stop flirting, Lana," I growled. "It never worked on me."
    Lana nodded and drained another shot before coming around and sitting on the stool beside me. The skin-tight dress didn't have so much as a wrinkle and barely covered her crotch as she sat down. I won't even mention the high heels. They were ridiculous.
    We sat there looking at each other, me in jammies without any makeup on, her made up as if she was doing a floor show for Mötley Crüe. Svetlana…er…Lana was one of the operatives I'd turned. Formerly a Russian spy, she went double agent for me for a couple of Beyoncé CDs and a pair of Louboutin pumps. The very ones she was wearing now.
    Lana had been a decent agent. She'd scored lots of info for me over the two years we'd worked together. I think she'd always wanted to come to America and be a Playboy Bunny. I used that to my advantage. I might have hinted that I had Hugh Hefner on speed dial once or twice. Not really my bad—Eastern Europeans were convinced that every American had powerful Americans on their cells. They really misunderstood that whole Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon thing.
    "What are you doing here, Lana?" Alive , I added mentally.
    She giggled and looked around the kitchen. "You know, I could really get used to this place! You have running water?"
    I picked up my cell and dialed. Riley answered on the first ring.
    "Hey Merry," he started.
    "Tell me this isn't what I think it is," I said with a growl in my voice.
    "What what is?" Riley asked with a poor façade of innocence.
    I held