The Spy Who Loves Me Read Online Free PDF Page B

paychecks.
    The same paychecks Finn needed to pay off his staggering student loans.
    So you’d think he’d be a little more into the whole work thing.
    He wasn’t.
    Instead, he was cruising down Santa Monica Boulevard in his primer-paint-gray Mustang convertible tailing a blonde who probably wouldn’t be caught dead with a guy who drove anything less exciting than a Lamborghini.
    Of course, she didn’t know about all the hidden little extras that had been installed in his classic car. The ’67 Mustang might look like a heap, but it was loaded. Missile launch behind the headlights complete with a state-of-the-art targeting system. A buoyancy control device and rudder system in case a land chase veered onto the sea. Oh, yeah. He was set. Sometimes looks could be very, very deceiving.
    The car was an integral part of his work. It allowed him to get close. To move in unobserved. To fade into the background. Which made it very useful for a mission like the one he was on today—trailing S.C.U.M. ubër-agent Tatiana Nicasse.
    Of course, Tatiana’s tastes tended more toward elegance, and he knew he wouldn’t impress her in his junk-heap-looking car. But that wasn’t a problem. The agency provided everything he needed, including a fabulous Type-E Jaguar—a two-seater, with a hood as long as Tatiana’s legs. Once he was done observing, he’d dry-clean his tux, rev up the Jaguar, and move in. Close. Very close…
    Finn ran his hand over the steering wheel, imagining the smooth skin of her thigh under his touch, his gaze locked on the taillights of her red Dodge Viper. She was half a block ahead of him and moving fast, while he was stuck at a light behind a brand-new Lexus and a battered Honda Accord.
    The light changed to green, and he laid on the horn, but the noise didn’t inspire any forward motion in the two cars blocking his path. After a seemingly interminable pause, they finally pulled forward, and he took advantage of the gap to whip around them into the left-hand lane. He ran through the gears, shifting like a maniac, until he was cruising along at a nice clip, his eyes scanning the road for any hint of the Viper.
    There. About three blocks ahead, zipping dangerously between a couple of fast-moving SUV’s. Traffic was piling up fast, but that wasn’t any obstacle to the Python. He whipped around a station wagon, waving an apology when the old man raised a fist in what was probably a colorful curse.
    More cars blocked his path, and he glanced to his right, eyeing Little Santa Monica wistfully. The smaller street ran parallel to the main thoroughfare, and if he was over there—just a few yards to the right—he’d have smooth sailing. Heck, from his current vantage point he could even see a black Buick LeSabre cruising down that wide-open street. That’s the kind of car Finn needed. A blend-into-the-background kind of car. Perfect for undertaking a little espionage on the lunch hour.
    He squinted at the Buick, watching as the driver hit each light perfectly, his good fortune speeding him toward Tatiana and away from Finn. Probably a lover heading for a secret rendezvous. Or a counter-agent out to get the jump on Python.
    Or not.
    He rolled his eyes at himself, realizing that his imagination had once again got the better of him. He was just about to hit the brakes, turn around, and hightail it away from such foolishness when he saw the Viper just two cars ahead. She’d gotten hung up behind a bus.
    There was no way he could lose her now.
    Determined, he zipped up close in the parallel lane. When traffic started moving again, he darted over, ending up right behind her. He laughed, almost giddy from the success, even though he knew that was stupid. After all, he wasn’t on a real mission, and she wasn’t out to avoid him. He was just a guy wasting time on a Sunday. But what the hell? This was the most fun he’d had in months.
    They