Free License to Love (An Agent Ex Novel) by Gina Robinson

hobbling and the running and the slipping—”
    He shook his head.
    “Well, to each his own, I guess. You’ll get used to spy humor. But to continue the tale, I guess I didn’t do a fantastic job of stopping the bleeding, which is why the police found my blood along with that villain’s.”
    “Did you kill him?” Rock asked. There was no smile in his voice, either.
    “Just nicked him. But then, being wounded, I was at a disadvantage. I’m usually a crack shot.” It was important he knew she was competent. “My fellow agent hit him with a clean kill shot. Which is what he’s paid to do, of course.” She still felt the sting of indignity in having to mention another agent had had to bail her out of trouble.
    “We meant to clean up the site before the cops got there. We called our cleanup crew to take care of it. But the body was gone before they arrived. RIOT must have removed it, but missed the heel of my shoe. They didn’t want to be discovered any more than we did. There, does that comfort you? Or will you have more nightmares now?”
    Rock stared at her with his head in his hands, his jaw set, his eyes hard. “So all this pointing at me and throwing suspicion my way—was that the CIA, too?”
    So that’s why he didn’t warm to her story—he was mad about being slandered? He was quick on the uptake. A little too quick, maybe. But his intelligence was part of what made him attractive to her.
    “Suspicious minds,” she said, shaking her head. But of course the Agency was behind them. Partly. “Rumors will fly. The public loves a scandal.”
    He frowned. Opened his mouth. Shut it again as if he’d reconsidered what he was going to say. He paused and then continued. “There’s something I don’t understand—if these RIOT bastards saw you, knew it was you who took these plans, won’t they be suspicious and looking for you now? Aren’t you in danger? And why would one of their allies, Blackledge, take you into his company when they think you’re an enemy spy?”
    She couldn’t help laughing. He looked so solemn. But he was right. And she was touched by his concern. “I’m always in danger.” She shrugged as if it didn’t matter. She was used to it.
    “But to answer your question, we’re better than you think. The RIOT bastards have no idea I work for NCS. Any of their agents who could identify me as the spy who stole their Hoover Dam intel, or a spy period, are dead.”
    “But they know Lani Torres isn’t dead,” Rock said. “So what’s their theory?”
    “If anything, they think I was running from you. Running from something, in any case.
    “Vegas showgirls, even magician’s assistants, generally aren’t pure as the driven snow.” She laughed. “There are all kinds of scenarios. Like I was in some kind of gambling or drug trouble and had to leave town in a hurry. Or I had escaped with a large chunk of your change, money-grubbing little me.”
    “Yeah, I know. The cops went over and over my bank accounts.” He didn’t sound happy about it.
    “Sorry about that, Rock. Really.”
    He squinted at her and frowned. “Yeah, I know, collateral damage.” He scowled. “That’s all these RIOT people believe about you?” He didn’t look convinced she was in the clear.
    “Not exactly. That damn broken heel.” She resisted, not for the first time, cursing beneath her breath. “It announced I was in that alley. They think I saw something I shouldn’t have.” She shook her head. “I’ll never wear cheap shoes again.”
    “Hey! Those shoes weren’t cheap. I paid a boatload for them. They were custom designed.” Rock tried to smile at her, but she could tell he was shaken and defensive because he felt responsible.
    She laughed at his indignation. “Then I suggest you hire a better designer next time, one with some engineering and structural expertise. A woman in my position needs to be able to count on her footwear, both on and offstage.”
    She studied him with his penetrating