Read Online Bait by Leslie Jones - Free Book Online Page A

to buy some time.
    â€œWell?”
    He exhaled hard. “I don’t trust your kind. I’ve been left bleeding once too often.”
    She straightened, smoothing the silk of her outfit. “Now we’re getting somewhere. My kind being women, or my kind being my employer?”
    He could lie and tell her he didn’t want to work with her because she was a woman. He settled for a partial truth. “I’ve worked with the CIA before. Nothing good ever comes out of it. You coming?”
    He pushed through the double doors without waiting for her answer.
    C HRISTINA TOOK SEVERAL deep breaths, then several more, trying to calm her racing heart and regain some equilibrium. Suddenly, the prospect of working with Gabe Morgan for possibly weeks or months on end seemed impossible.
    About to fluff her nails through her hair, she remembered the careful style at the last moment, and lowered her arm. Drat. She settled for straightening her spine, lifting her head, and gliding down the corridor.
    She sailed past Gabe without so much as a glance, relegating him to the role of servant. That meant she also ignored the House Guard at the door to the royals’ living quarters. Ronnie always greeted them. She forced herself to slow down.
    She descended the stairs with her fingers trailing along the bannister so she wouldn’t trip in Ronnie’s shoes, aware when tourists and paparazzi noticed her and started to whisper. Cameras and cell phones snapped photos, and she paused, turning to accommodate them. Inside the palais , she felt safe, though she knew that was a fallacy. The danger could come at any time, from any direction. Still, she inclined her head and gave Véronique’s gentle smile.
    The Household Guard escorted her to the front entrance, through the breezeway with its rows of columns, to the waiting limousine with its double flags. Crown Princess Véronique de Savoie merited the second-­largest limousine in the fleet, which bore the flags of Concordia on the hood and the royal family crest on the doors. Gabe cleared a path through the cameras. He maneuvered around her and opened the rear door. She sat at an angle, then swung her tightly closed legs inside.
    The guard clicked the door closed. Gabe swung into the front passenger seat. The driver pulled away immediately.
    â€œWhere to?” he asked.
    Until now, Christina hadn’t given it a single thought. Gabe, however, answered immediately.
    â€œThe baroque gardens at Nanten. Take Rue de Bouclé to Rue du Destin. Follow the signs from there.”
    â€œGotcha.”
    She leaned forward, checking the driver in the rearview mirror. He returned her look briefly, then turned his attention back to the road. Despite the gray suit and tie, gloves, and cap, this was clearly no chauffeur. Gray colored his temples, but his haircut, at least what she could see, was military-­short. He was deeply tanned. Strong lines bracketed his mouth and slashed across his forehead and between his eyes. Christina had no doubt if she checked the fall of his suit, she would detect the slight bulge of a weapon under his arm.
    â€œWhat’s your name?” she asked him.
    â€œGavin Selle.”
    She settled back against the butter-­soft leather, disgruntled. This grew more ridiculous by the moment. Everyone around her knew exactly what was going on. She was the only idiot in the dark.
    â€œYou and I are going to talk.” She addressed the back of Gabe’s head. He did not react.
    As the miles unwound, Christina registered the shrewdness of Gabe’s choice. The highways were long and straight, with few trees to distort the landscape. It would be difficult for a tail to remain invisible, and there was little cover or concealment for a sniper, assuming anyone knew their destination. She would bet her last dollar Gabe told no one where he was taking her.
    In less than half an hour, Gavin pulled off the highway and wound his way through thick