The Spy Who Loves Me by Julie Kenner Page A

at Diana’s boobs slathered in mud. Now she had an admirer and he was insistent on following her to the ends of the earth. Easily dealt with. There wasn’t a man on the planet—except Drake—that Diana couldn’t intimidate the hell out of.
    At the same time, though, she had to be smart about this. The guy was probably just an oversexed spa attendant, but she couldn’t discount the possibility that he had other reasons for watching her. Like maybe someone was paying him off. And if that was the case, she needed to make absolutely certain that he didn’t report back to whoever was pulling his strings.
    Determined, she flipped on her blinker and crossed over two lanes of traffic to the access road. He followed, of course, and when she pulled into a nearby Ralph’s grocery store, he parked one row away. Perfect.
    She got out of the car, swung her purse over her shoulder, and headed inside. Rather convenient, really. After all, she really ought to show up at Poindexter’s door bearing wine.
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    Brandon leaned against the ATM machine, watching Diana Traynor pick out a bottle of wine. Apparently that was a long, involved process, because it took her a good fifteen minutes to settle on a red wine from one of the shelves labeled FRANCE . He couldn’t see the label, which was too bad. Brandon was always on the lookout for a good bottle of wine.
    A uniformed security guard glanced at him, probably calculating the odds of Brandon trying to rob the ATM. Brandon flashed a smile, his eyes drifting casually over the rows of cash registers.
    As soon as Diana stepped into the express checkout line, Brandon eased out the door, imagining the guard exhaling in relief as he passed. A few seconds later, the lady emerged behind, her eyes fixed on her car. Brandon slipped into the Buick and turned the key. The engine purred to life, and he gripped the steering wheel, keeping the car in gear while he waited to see what direction she took.
    She exited onto Magnolia, and he shifted into reverse, planning on following. But a tapping at his window stopped him. He turned to face the security guard. Brandon closed his eyes, allowing himself one brief oh shit moment. Then he hit the button to roll down the window. “How can I help you, officer?”
    â€œWould you step out of the car?”
    Brandon flashed his who me? grin. “Is there a problem?” A stupid question. Of course there was a problem. And he knew exactly what it was—Diana had made his tail. And she’d set this little pit bull on him.
    â€œJust shut off the engine and get out of the car, please.”
    Brandon considered gunning it and burning rubber on his way out of the parking lot. But he dismissed the idea. Officer Happy there had probably never fired his firearm, but he had the look of a man itching to do so. And the parking lot was bustling with civilians and children.
    With a nod, he turned the key, killing the engine. Then he stepped out of the car and faced the officer.
    â€œLady says you’ve been harassing her. Says you flashed her in the parking lot and then followed her inside. I saw you eyeing her myself.” The officer stood up straighter, his hand on the butt of his gun and a sneer on his face. The victim of one too many bad cop films. “You’re going down, buddy. The D.A.’s got a hard-line policy on indecent exposure.”
    Brandon had to hand it to Diana. The lady had spunk. Not only had she delayed him, but she’d ensured he’d get suckered into hours of procedural bullshit.
    Eventually, he’d get out of this mess, of course. But by the time he did, Diana would be long gone.
    And so would his only opportunity for discovering Poindexter’s identity.
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    â€œYou doing okay up there?” Amber heard Finn’s voice filtering through the intercom; the man himself was in the cockpit behind her.
    She tossed the headphone aside long enough to remove the leather helmet.