Free Mission: Out of Control by Susan May Warren

have a sweetness about her. Now during some of her songs, I feel like I should troll the crowd for stalkers.”
    â€œFeeling overprotective, Wick?”
    â€œHere’s a word for you, pal— bodyguard. Not that it’s my favorite, but hey, it’s what I’m getting paid for. ”
    Luke smiled and picked up the remote. “Let’s see if we can find something in English.”
    Brody leaned his forehead against the cool window. Overprotective. Maybe. Okay, so he was fond of Ronie, but only because he understood wanting to shake off the past but not knowing how to do it.
    On the street, he saw a pizza delivery vehicle pull up.
    â€œI’ll be back.” He grabbed the door key and headed down to the lobby.
    The pizza man, not unlike the variety on the other side of the pond, haggled with the concierge. “That’s for me,” Brody said. He paid for the pizza at the desk, tipped the driver in euros and hit the button for the elevator.
    Yes, he understood Ronie, finally. Something had broken open between them on the plane. He might even call it…trust.
    The elevator opened. He let pass a woman in a metallic gray dress with black hair bobbed to her ears and bug sunglasses. Some sort of German starlet incognito, probably. Apparently, the hotel also housed other national highbrows—a billionaire from Greece, an Italiandesigner with his own slew of models, an African diplomat. He’d gotten the rundown from the security chief at the hotel.
    He pushed the button for the fourth floor.
    The pizza practically called to him to snag a piece of pepperoni. This was what international living did—made you crazy for home. Sure, he liked a good bratwurst or schnitzel now and then, but after the week he’d had, nothing but comfort food would make him sleep.
    And now that Ronie was locked safely in her room, he just might do that.
    But first, he’d see if she wanted a piece. Just because they were friends.
    He stood outside her door for nearly a minute, letting his courage talk him into knocking. Friends. He was simply working the charm factor. Two Americans enjoying a large, deep-dish, pepperoni pizza.
    He balanced the pizza box in one hand and knocked.
    Leah cracked open the door. “Hey, Brody. What’s up?”
    â€œI brought a late-night snack. I was thinking that—”
    The look on her face stopped him cold. Some people could lie. Some couldn’t. And Leah clearly was in the second category. He could see her trying to conjure up a story, and fast.
    â€œWhere is she?” He put his hand on the door and pushed.
    â€œBrody, no,” she said even as she stepped aside, probably more from fear than acquiescence. “Listen, I tried to talk her out of it but she said she had to go.”
    Brody tossed the pizza onto the glass coffee table.He stalked in to one bedroom, then in to the other. Lyle looked up at Brody. “Did you say pizza?”
    Brody rounded on Leah. “Go where?” His voice lowered to barely a whisper.
    Leah wrapped her arms around her waist and drew in a breath. “She’ll be fine, Brody. She does this all the time. And I promise, no one will recognize her. She’s in costume.”
    â€œOf course she is.” He wanted to put his fist through a wall as he remembered the dark-haired starlet exiting the lift. “Black wig, a gray dress?” Leah nodded.
    â€œWhere was she going?”
    Leah made a face. “Do you promise not to be mad?”
    â€œLeah, I am so beyond mad right now, but the truth is, this isn’t about mad. It’s about crazy. And me trying to keep her from getting hurt. Please. ”
    â€œShe’s at a party. For General Mubar’s son.”
    Â 
    Ronie had recognized the genius of Vonya the very first night she’d donned the dress, the wig and the mask and crept onto the stage over five years ago.
    She could go anywhere and do anything, and no one would be the wiser.