Page 71 of A Spy is Born
He throws me a smile, the thinness of his face making him look skeletal under the strange purple light.
“Come on.” I follow him through the crowd, my full champagne glass spilling over the sides and wetting my hand.
Eyes track me. People are whispering.
Julian's situation is public. I didn't get asked about it by the press out front because of the work Mary and her team have put into shielding me.
Will eliminating Grand solve Julian's problems? Temperance assures me he can take care of it. But I'm not doing this solely for him. I'm doing this for the country. A man like Grand, ruthless, racist and unscrupulous—willing to risk national security for his own personal vendettas—shouldn't be the ruler of the most powerful country on earth.
Who am I to decide?Just one woman playing a role.
We reach a buffet table, and Troy grabs a plate, beginning to pile sushi onto it. My stomach twists. He glances over at me, cocking his head as he listens to the small device in his ear.
"Grand is here,” he says, popping a shrimp into his mouth. Troy chews thoughtfully as he continues listening.
Will I ever be so used to this that I can snack on shrimp while plotting an assassination?
The lights flicker, and the music screeches off. My heart thumps in my chest.What is going on?
There are small cries of alarm, and the crowd seems to surge, everyone moving closer to each other and then away—bodies are bouncing against us. Fingers grip my arm, and I recognize the bony touch of Troy.
People are pulling out their phones and flashlight apps glow. The room is suddenly sparkling with them. A couple hundred spotlights—everyone has one in their pocket.
"What's going on?" I ask, reaching into my purse for my phone.
"It's a power outage. Probably from the fires,” Troy answers.
"What are they going to do?" I ask.
"There are generators. The lights should be back on soon."
He pops another shrimp into his mouth. I can see his jaw working in the dim light of the flashlights.
My own phone out, I flick on the app and shine it down at my feet.
"We've lost Grand in the darkness,” Troy says, his mouth half full of shrimp. “Secret service might evacuate him. We may have lost our opportunity.”
Relief and dread war in my chest. "Can you stop eating?” I say, my voice coming out harsh. Annoyed. "Sorry," I say immediately. "I'm feeling a little tense." I let out a small laugh, the wordtensedoes not do justice to what I'm feeling. I'm on the verge of puking. I'm on the verge of taking a life. And there's a freaking blackout.
"No worries.” Troy swallows before putting his half-full plate down on the edge of a nearby table. He takes my arm, moving me through the crowd. People are starting to enjoy the darkness. Laughter grows louder without music. People are still drinking.This is exciting.This is an adventure for all of them now.
"Do we have eyes on him yet?" Troy asks. His lips pull down into a frown, and his eyes find mine in the dancing light. He gives me a small shake of his head. “Secret Service evacuated him.” I don’t know if I’m relieved or dissapointed.
Chapter Sixteen
The lineof limousines stretches down the road and around the bend. “Ms. Daniels!” a red-vested concierge waves me toward a stretch limo at the curb. I glance at Troy who’s flicking through his phone.
“Go ahead,” he says, not looking up at me.
Red Vest opens the back door, and I hesitate.This is not the car we took here.
The interior of the car smells like leather and perfume—floral, feminine high notes with whiffs of masculine musk. It fits the woman sitting on the far bench with her crossed ankles, androgynous navy pants suit, and hair brushed back into a helmet.
Vice President and Democratic Party presidential nominee Natalie Stone.
I slide into the seat across from her. Stone’s green eyes are lit with intelligence and deep knowledge—her gaze holds a confidence I’m used to seeing only in men with too much power. The presidential hopeful’s lips are curled up into a closed smile that crinkles lines around her eyes.Has she had work done?
Guilt and loathing instantly churn in my stomach at the question…practically an accusation in my mind.
