Read Online A Spy Like Me by Laura Pauling - Free Book Online

weeks. I
didn’t remember any mention of a trip. Nothing made sense. A year
ago I would’ve agreed with Dad and squashed any doubts. But this
wasn’t about me. It was about Aimee. I’d follow through with the
Extravaganza and do a little investigating at the same time. By
myself. Without Dad.
    No turning back.
     
    Monday morning came, and I woke with a major
Spy Games hangover. I rolled out of bed and searched for a tee to
throw on over my cammie. Coffee. I needed a shot of caffeine.
Hopefully after a cup, my head would clear and I would accept my
crazy suspicion Peyton had done away with Aimee was just a crazy
suspicion. I wanted to be wrong. I wanted the letter to be a prank.
I wanted Aimee to meet me for a latte this morning as usual. And I
needed to find out about this pastry Extravaganza thing.
    With my fingers running along the wall, I
stumbled down the narrow hallway and into the kitchen. I smelled
the coffee. Hazelnut. It must be Dad’s way of making me feel
better, but I’d rather him write a note or do the dishes because
his coffee tastes like dishwater. My eyes were beginning to clear,
and I noticed the shape of a blue coffee mug sitting on the
counter. I leaned against the kitchen counter and rubbed my eyes.
The blurry reflection in the toaster of a dark shape caught my
attention.
    What the hell ?
    I studied the reflection but it was too
blurry. It wasn’t my dad. Could it be Peyton?
    I might have a hard time waking up in the
morning, but there’s nothing like an intruder to get the mojo
flowing. I inched my hand toward a drawer and wished like hell I
were wearing one of those sleepers with the feet instead of a
T-shirt with my pink panties showing.
    After a pretend stretch, I pulled out a
butter knife from the drawer and flipped around.

 
     
Eleven
    Malcolm.
    Relief flooded my limbs. Then I remembered
how mad I was at him and how mad he might be at me, so I held the
knife up and ready. We didn’t exactly leave on the best of terms.
And yesterday I made it worse because I had no clue he was
shadowing me.
    Malcolm sat relaxed in Dad’s kitchen chair,
legs crossed, fingers tapping away on his laptop, eyes glued to the
screen. Like he was alone in his bedroom or something.
    “Hey! What are you doing here?” I waved the
knife. I’m known to be pretty loquacious but I couldn’t quite find
the right words to express my shock. And normally, I loved when Dad
left early for work, but today I wished he were about to stumble
from his bedroom.
    Malcolm smiled but he still didn’t notice my
dangerous weapon. “Where else would I be?”
    Oh crap. Revenge. I tugged on my T-shirt,
trying to stretch it past my knees.
    He jotted notes on a small notepad on the
table beside his laptop. “If you have a flash, I can download any
documents.”
    What was he talking about? The whole
shadow-me-for-a-day thing was over. What kind of revenge would an
angry but still-cute waiter want? I had to get him out of our
apartment. “My gosh, will you look already!”
    His gaze flicked up and locked on the knife.
He snorted and moved his laptop as if it were a shield.
    I slashed the knife through the air like I
was a sheik from Arabia. “Maybe you didn’t get the clue the other
night that I’m not interested in you.”
    He closed his laptop. “Hope the coffee is
right. I know you like it strong.”
    My hand wavered and so did my confidence. I
mimicked his casual approach. “I can’t argue that you didn’t take
time to get to know me before our date.”
    He smiled. “As a waiter, I notice these
things.”
    “Right.” What else had he noticed? I was
determined not to show that his surprise visit had me rattled. Why
had Dad let him in? He sipped his coffee, his eyes still on mine. I
tried to zap some common sense into my brain while staying in
control of the conversation, but I fell silent and rested my hand
with the knife on the counter. Thoughts of Aimee were constantly
with me, hovering in the back of my