City of Spies by Nina Berry Page A

wood, the table plain but polished. They ordered iced tea and a cheese plate to share to start, followed by steaks and French fries, please and thank you and as soon as possible would be nice.
    The drinks and hors d’oeuvres arrived, and Pagan began devouring the slices of apple and brie. Mercedes sipped her tea and glanced around uneasily.
    â€œYou’re worried,” Pagan said, wiping crumbs off the corner of her mouth. “About that guy in gray.”
    â€œI’m telling you, he was up to no good.” Mercedes tapped her fingernails on the tabletop. “Do you mind if I go outside for a minute to make sure he’s not still there?”
    â€œâ€™Course not,” Pagan said. “As long as I eat a large steak soon, I’ll be the happiest girl in the world. The beef in Argentina’s supposed to be the best.”
    â€œGreat.” Mercedes, distracted, was already standing up. She didn’t carry a purse and never wore gloves, so she set the guidebook down on her seat. “Back in a moment.”
    Then she was gone, moving quietly with her determined stride toward the front door. Pagan finished off the brie and speared a few olives from their tiny bowl with a toothpick. Olives made her think of martinis, which made her miss the icy bite of vodka moving down her throat, but she was too hungry not to eat them, and the sharp need for alcohol was dulled as her hunger abated. The waiter came by and she ordered more iced tea.
    As the waiter moved off, the weird dizzy feeling in Pagan’s head and its accompanying depression brought on by the confrontation with Tony, hours of dancing and lack of food faded.
    What had she been so worried about? She could handle this whole silly movie situation. She’d made some choices she regretted in the past, but she wasn’t going to let Tango Tony, as M called him, get on her nerves about it. Maybe now that he had some reason to fear her, he’d behave. And she’d find a way to charm the director, even if she did have to pretend to be the silliest clown in the circus.
    â€œAlone at last.” A familiar voice floated over her shoulder.
    Pagan’s heart beat once, very loudly. She turned to find Devin Black lounging at the table behind hers, a coffee and folded newspaper before him, his dark hair, gelled back, curled slightly around his temples in the summer humidity. His dark, turbulent eyes, like the ocean at twilight, took their time looking her over.
    Pagan swallowed her last bite, her pulse accelerating, and dusted the crumbs off her hands. “Just you, me and the cheese. I think I’m in love.” She paused. “With the brie.”
    One corner of Devin’s mouth turned down in amusement. It had been weeks since she’d seen that characteristic smirk of his, and it was as annoyingly beguiling as ever.
    â€œWait till you try the steak,” he said.
    Why, oh, why did that remark make her flush? Or was it the way he was looking at her? Either way, her cheeks were hot, damn him.
    She shook her ponytail, rallying. “Mercedes is going to laugh. She thought someone was following us with evil intent, but it turns out it was you. Or wait...” She surveyed his long, slender form again in its freshly ironed white shirt and crisp khaki pants, slightly scuffed brown leather oxfords on his feet. He was the picture of effortless summer sophistication, but he was not wearing a gray suit and hat. “That couldn’t have been you.”
    He frowned, leaning toward her subtly, eyes scanning the room. “Mercedes saw someone following you here ?”
    â€œYeah, but...” She was about to say Mercedes was being paranoid, but the look on Devin’s face stopped her. He dropped his paper on the table and signaled the waiter. “You think it’s true?” she asked.
    He was reaching for his wallet, pulling out paper Argentine pesos. “Buenos Aires is a hotbed for espionage, especially since