Spy Games Read Online Free PDF Page B

open at his knowledge of ladies’ rooms. “You sure? Not every one has them.”
    He nodded, and continued. “And, Reilly, if a bunch of thugs or nasty double-agents come after you, give me up. Show them where you hid the drive.” He pulled me into a hug, and slipped an envelope into my tight back pocket. The man had magic hands.
    “Give you up? You sure? I’m a good liar.”
    He nodded. “Yeah, give me up. Whatever you do, be careful with that Beretta you have in your bag.”
    I was so startled it took me a minute to speak. “You know?”
    “Saw it this evening.”
    “Don’t tell me you’re like that Psych detective and notice everything!” I wondered if anyone else had seen it.
    “It’s my job.”
    “Yeah?”
    He nodded again.
    “I have a permit to carry concealed.”
    “I don’t doubt it.”
    “I know how to use it. I have Bond Girl skills, you know.”
    He nodded, smiling suggestively. “I’m guessing they’re not necessarily of the firearm variety.”
    He’d guessed right there. I gave him a playful smile back.
    He laughed. “You don’t want to use that gun.”
    He smiled at the expression I gave him, confirming his guess. “R, I won’t let anyone hurt you. Not any devious double-agents, not your ex. I have your back.”
    “Good.” I flashed him another bright smile. “While you’re at it, could you warn Peewee he’d better not report anything he sees here back to my ex?”
    “Done.”
    I squeezed the drive in my hand. “Well, there’s no time like the present.”
    Then it was off to the ladies’ room to do the first deed. It’s true what they say about beer—it goes right through a girl. As I headed toward the powder room, Huff returned to the table and said something to Peewee. It may have been my imagination, but I thought Peewee paled. PIs, they had something on everyone.
    There was a line in the ladies’ room. A long one and I was dancing. If I hadn’t been on a mission, I would have ducked into another one. Where had all these women come from? The bar wasn’t that busy. I had a feeling they were spilling over from some other function and hogging the bathroom that I was entitled to by way of actually patronizing the bar. Cheaters.
    I stood in line, impatiently hoping the third stall in from the door magically opened up to coincide with me taking the lead spot in line. Huff had told me specifically to make the drop in the third stall. Guess he hadn’t been counting on the crowd in here. I was wondering how he knew there’d even be a third stall. I didn’t like the ideas that bounced into my head, like security cameras or men lurking in corners. I settled for hoping the person on the other end of the drop was a woman and had scoped out the scene ahead of time.
    Even in desperate times with a spy mission hanging over my head, bathroom etiquette must be observed. I had to wait my turn. It was the first time in my life that I actually wished I was a mother with a small toilet-training child in tow. Yeah, not the thing most of us dream of. But you can always push to the front of the line if you have a kid hanging on to you, crying she has to go potty.
    Just my luck the third stall opened up for the broad-beamed broad in front of me.
    Crying child! Why didn’t I have a crying child?
    I glanced around madly, but there didn’t seem to be any I could even beg, borrow, or steal. Not that stealing a child was a good idea, especially when you’re on a covert mission.
    Broad-beam ambled into the stall with all the speed of a turtle. When she shut the door, the whole row of stalls shook.
    Almost immediately, number two opened up. Reluctantly, I passed and let the girl behind me have it, making a lame excuse about how I could wait. Then number one. I passed again.
    Someone turned on a faucet behind me. Suddenly, all I could hear was running water. I couldn’t block it out. I crossed my legs.
    Number four opened up.
    “Be my guest,” I said. My words came out sounding choked. In