Two Lies and a Spy (17 page)

“Whew.” Evan shakes his head. “You’re tough.”

“Should I go easy on you? On a spy and a snake?”

“Look, if you want to call me a spy, fine. But I am not a snake. And I’m not a traitor.”

“Then what are you?” I toss at him.

“I’m an agent,” he says. “Just like your parents. So give me a break, okay?”

That silences me.

I turn on my heel and go into the bathroom, where I rip off the fake zit and scrub off all the horrible makeup that Lacey applied to my face. Relieved to be me again, I swish some of the complimentary mouthwash through my teeth and resign myself to sleeping in my clothes, if I sleep at all. Then I stomp back out to the bed, turn out the bedside lamp, and crawl under the covers. Charlie is already fading.

As I close my eyes and feign unconsciousness, it occurs to me that I may not like Evan, but I need him on my side, and by tearing him a new one, I’m sabotaging that possibility.

I resolve to be nicer—in the morning.

“Sweet dreams, Kari.” Evan turns off his own bedside lamp and then does a belly flop on the other bed.

“Butthead,” I mutter into my pillow. After all, it’s not morning yet.

Evan sighs. “I suppose I deserve that.”

He absolutely does. And I spitefully wish Agent A-hole severe back pain and a horrendous crick in her neck and Agent Hemorrhoid a night of burning agony sitting upright in his chair.

•  •  •

In the morning I’m shocked to find that I’ve somehow slept, since I open my eyes and, for a moment, can’t remember where I am.

Then I see Evan’s sheet-creased face in the bed opposite mine. Ugh.

Charlie is snoring softly next to me.

The two agents are still at the table, looking weary and
bad tempered. Ha.

Evan somehow senses that I’m awake. He squints and lifts his head from the pillow, and I have to laugh at his classic case of bedhead. For the first time ever, he doesn’t look like some displaced blue blood who got on the wrong plane to America. He sits up, runs a hand sheepishly through his hair, and grimaces at me. “Good morning,” he manages to say, around a yawn.

“That’s debatable.” I sit up in bed and give the agents the hairy eyeball. “So, you’re making us pancakes and bacon, right?”

Agent A-hole looks up from her iPad. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that.”

“I’d like mine extra crispy, but not burnt. And blueberries in the pancakes. Lots of butter and syrup.”

“Would you listen to her?” A-hole says to Hemorrhoid.

“I’m trying not to.”

“I want chocolate milk,” says Charlie, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

“And would you like that served in a crystal goblet, young sir?” Hemorrhoid asks.

“Yep. With a straw.” Charlie grins, enjoying the game.

“Oh, of course.” He rolls his eyes at Agent A-hole and returns his attention to his laptop.

I get out of bed. “Well, it’s been a real pleasure having this slumber party with you fun Feds. I’m going to take a shower and then leave.”

“Siddown, kid,” is all Agent A-hole says.

“How long are you going to keep us here?
Against our will.”

“Until we get orders to release you,” Hemorrhoid snaps.

I get in their faces. “This is unconstitutional. We have rights. We’re innocent until proven guilty—”

“Your parents are guilty as sin, and you’re minors in protective custody,” A-hole growls.

“They’re not!” I put my hands on my hips. “You’re jumping to the same stupid conclusions that everyone else is.”

The agents snort.

“The bottom line,” I say to everyone, “is that my parents are loyal U.S. citizens, not double agents. They’ve somehow been framed, and they need help to prove that.”

Evan nods. “Fair enough.”

“What they do not need,” I continue, looking at Agent A-hole and Agent Hemorrhoid, “is for idiots to jump to conclusions, decide they’re guilty, and throw the book at them.”

Agent A. and Agent H. ignore me. Agent H. shifts in his seat again, probably wishing for some Preparation H. Agent A. reaches into her soft-sided briefcase and pulls out a ChapStick.

After all, they think I’m just a misguided kid.

I glower at them.

What I need is an adult who will actually help me, but they seem to be in short supply.

Where is Aunt Sophie, by the way? Why hasn’t she called me back?

Maybe she accidentally deleted my message.

Or there was a glitch in phone service, and the message never even made it to her in-box.

I guess it’s possible that she lost her phone while on assignment, but I’m pretty sure she should be back by now from her latest trip.

If I can just get out of here and get to a phone, I know she’ll help me.

“Evan,” I whisper. “Evan!”

He turns his head.

I place a finger over my lips and jerk my head in the direction of our Agency babysitters. Then I lean really close to Charlie and tell him to do something to keep them busy. He nods.

“I’m hungry!” Charlie wails.

When he gets no immediate reaction, he howls it. “My stomach is eating itself,” he complains. “I have to have food, or I’m going to get really sick and it will be all your fault.” He glares at Agent A-hole.

“What, d’you think I’m your mommy?” she says rudely.

I am briefly distracted by the thought that my foot would look good planted in the middle of her face, but I let Charlie handle it.

“No, but I want breakfast,” he whines. “Where’s the room service menu?”

While he’s got them annoyed and distracted, I whisper, “Evan, I need your help.”

“Wait, what happened to me being a turd in your personal punch bowl? A traitor? A snake?”

“Come on, Evan. Don’t do this.”

“
Heinous
, you called me.”

“Look, you can’t deny that you tricked me. All of us.”

He shrugs. “Okay.”

“And you spied on us. And lied to us.”

He exhales. “Yes. Sorry.”

“Worse, you stole my first kiss ever, and I was saving it for someone else!”

He blinks. “You’d never kissed a guy?”

“No.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing!”

“Haven’t you ever had a boyfriend?”

“Leave me alone.”

“What, you’ve never even played spin the bottle?”

“Could you please stop making me feel like a freak of nature?”

“But you are. What girl of sixteen has never kissed someone?”

“Evan!”

“Okay, okay. Fine.”

“So will you help me? Get out of here?”

He stares moodily at me. “Who’s the guy?”

“What guy?”

“The one you were saving your first kiss for?”

“None of your business. It doesn’t matter, now that you’ve shoplifted it.”

“Shoplifted?”
His eyebrows rise into his hair.

“Yes! You’re worse than Lacey Carson.”

Evan is appalled.

“At least she can give back the merchandise. You can’t give me back my first kiss, you jerk.”

He squirms. “Look . . . Kari . . . I had no idea. You’re a beautiful girl. I assumed that you’d been kissing boys since you were ten.”

“So now you’re calling me a ho?”

“No.”
He throws up his hands. “Why can’t I say or do anything right around you?”

I wave this issue away. “Evan. Just help me get out of here. I have to clear my parents’ names. Can you understand that?”

He swallows. Looks as if he’s seen a ghost—how weird. I realize that I know nothing about Evan Kincaid or his background. Just that he’s a displaced Brit who’s infiltrated my American school.

After a long moment Evan nods. “I’ll help you. If you’ll agree to take some advice. Don’t go off half-cocked. And there is one other condition.”

“What?” I ask impatiently.

“Charlie will have to stay here as collateral—so that I know you’ll behave.”

I balk at leaving Charlie in the care of Agents Brown and Smith, aka. A-hole and Hemorrhoid. What if something goes wrong and I have to go into hiding? Live in a gutter or a shed or a doghouse for a while?

Oh, and you’d want Charlie with you for that?
My conscience attacks me.

This isn’t medieval times. They’re not going to stretch my little brother on the rack or tear out his toenails or starve him to death.

But they will try to use him to force me to toe the line.

I debate the question back and forth with myself.

The agents are grudgingly ordering Charlie Belgian waffles with strawberries and chocolate milk with a straw—evidence that they’re not going to mistreat him.

They ask me if I want anything. I shake my head.

Evan tells them he’d like a pint of ale. They laugh at
that. Then they order for themselves.

“Okay,” I whisper to Evan. “But you harm a hair on his head . . .”

“Do I look like a child abuser? Really?”

“They come in all shapes and sizes, Kincaid.”

“True,” Evan muses. “However, you don’t have to worry about me, since I won’t be babysitting your brother. I’ll be coming with you.”

“No. Not going to happen.”

“What’s all the whispering over there?” Agent A-hole gripes.

“None of your business.” I cast an irritated glance at her.

“Yeah? How’d you like me to gag you, Miss Smart-Mouth?”

“You’d get off on that, wouldn’t you?” I retort.

She rolls her eyes and turns her back to us, staring out the window.

I turn back to Evan and say under my breath, “You are not coming with me.”

He folds his arms across his chest. “Fine. Then as you’re trying to give the agents the slip, I’ll be sure to point out to them exactly what you’re about.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Try me.” Evan’s jaw is stubborn, and his mouth is set in a mulish line. He’s not kidding.

I hate Evan Kincaid more than ever.

“You’re despicable.”

“Yes.” He’s completely unfazed. “What’s your point?”

Clearly, I’m stuck with his company if I want to get out of here and find Sophie.

I turn to Charlie and whisper in his ear. “Evan and I need to go do something. You okay with staying here for a bit? With the agents?”

He scrunches up his face. “Do I have to?”

“It would be really helpful, and Mom and Dad would appreciate your cooperation.”

He chews on his lip and pushes up his horn-rims. He evaluates Evan. “So he’s not a snake or a traitor?”

The unspoken implication is that if he were, I wouldn’t leave with him.

“No,” I say, defeated. “He’s all right.”

Evan smiles triumphantly.

“Well . . . okay then. I guess.”

“Thank you.” I say it in heartfelt tones.

Evan nods. “Charlie. You are the man of the hour.”

“I am?” He looks pleased.

“Yup.” I ruffle his hair. “Now, how about you make another distraction, so we can get out of here and prove our parents are innocent? I swear that no matter what happens, I will come back for you. Okay?”

He nods. His eyes sparkle, and I realize that he’s enjoying this. It’s a different role than his usual “child genius” one, and he’s reveling in it.

I blow him a kiss.

Charlie winks. Then he gets up and goes into the bathroom.

Within seconds, he’s screaming murder.
“Aaaaggghhhhhhhh!”

At the first howl the agents’ heads come up. Hemorrhoid goes running into the bathroom. Evan and
I jump up too.

We run to the open door.

Reluctantly A-hole follows us.

Charlie is lying on the floor, rolling as if he’s in agony. He shrieks again and then convulses.

“What’s wrong with him?” A-hole asks urgently.

“Oh my God. Oh my God!” Evan says.

“I don’t know! I’ll call 911!” I yell, and push her into the bathroom. “Do something!”

Both agents kneel over Charlie.

He’s holding his breath and turning blue. He’s an expert—he used to do this as a small child in order to get his way.

The agents are horrified. Hemorrhoid lays his ear to Charlie’s chest, and A-hole grabs his wrist to take his pulse.

Evan and I back out. Then we quietly close the bathroom door, wedge a chair under the knob, and shrug into their jackets, which they’ve left hung over their chairs. I twist my hair up and secure it with a pen so that I’ll look older if anyone takes a casual glance at a security camera—after all, this is an Agency safe hotel. There will definitely be surveillance.

Hats off to Charlie. In seconds we’ve made our escape from the room.

The hallway outside the room is empty, but I’m conscious of the security cameras as we force ourselves to walk calmly and not run. Oh, how I wish I had one of Rita’s laser devices to blind the stupid things—or one
of her jammers.

I nudge Evan and glance toward the little “eyes in the sky.”

He nods and leans down to whisper, “Best to just let them run. Anything we do to black out the picture or create static will only attract attention.”

“Yeah.”

“Brace yourself—I’m betting there are guards in the lobby.”

We come to the elevator and push the down button.

Unfortunately, when the doors slide open, there’s a surprise inside: Gray Gary. And he’s got a gun that he doesn’t hesitate to pull.

“Put it on the floor,” Evan says, his tone deadly.

Is he nuts?

“Or I’ll shoot first.”

Evan’s got his right hand inside the pocket of Agent Hemorrhoid’s blazer and there’s a big, hard bulge there.

Gary hesitates.

“You want to be prosecuted for shooting two minors? Do it!” Evan barks.

Gary swears under his breath, then lays the gun on the floor of the elevator and puts his hands up in surrender.

“On your knees,” Evan orders.

Gary obeys.

I dart forward, grab the gun, and smash the butt of it down on the back of his skull. The guy drops like
a stone, his eyes rolling back in his head. Thank God there’s no camera in this elevator.

“Congratulations,” Evan says to Gary’s prone form. “You’ve just been held up by an EpiPen.” He pulls it out of his pocket to show me, and I have to laugh.

“You’re good,” I admit.

He grins. “I know.”

The awesome thing is that we now have a gun, which helps us a lot with getting out of the hotel. It intimidates the guard at the back door enough that we’re able to gag him and cuff him—with his own bracelets—to his chair.