A Time For Ryda Read Free Page B

side.”
    For his part, though, Peter appeared almost ill, his face very flushed. Finally giving another strained smile, he then looked up at the waiter.
    Alarm bells were beginning to go off in Eve’s mind. Sensuously leaning down on her own arm, as if to draw herself closer to Peter, Eve was able to see both her contact and the waiter in profile.
    The body language was all wrong. It was Peter, the customer, who appeared subtly deferential, while the waiter had an uncharacteristically hard look. In fact, Eve’s former lover appeared almost dazed as the waiter’s eyes narrowed in slight anger.
    “Blue wine as well,” Peter finally stammered. Hesitating a moment longer, the waiter left.
    Perhaps the waiter was having a bad day? Maybe Peter was simply flustered by her unexpected appearance? But instinct was an operative’s most valuable asset. In one swift movement she raised her head again, sweeping the entire café.
    No less than six people quickly averted their eyes, flushed by her sudden movement. The waiter and the flashy hostess were on the surveillance team, along with a pair of men at the bar, and two women a few tables over. No doubt there were others nearby as well.
    Revulsion exploded in the pit of Eve’s stomach. Apparently turned by the Vextar, Peter had agreed to set up the TAIN agent sent to meet him.
    The wholesome satisfaction of a moment before was now replaced by two competing emotions, the anguish of a betrayed and disillusioned lover, and the cold, calculating fury of an agent sold out by her own side. Brutally, Eve pushed the former aside, knowing it would get her killed, while the latter just might allow her to live through the next several minutes.
    At this point, her strategy was obvious. Get a jump on the Gandian thugs and escape, running as fast and far as she was able. The initiative was hers, but only for a very short time. If Eve failed to capitalize on it, she’d never make it from the Contemplar alive.
    But first she needed to throw her stalkers off guard, lull them into a false sense of security. Exercising all of her self-control, Eve faced Peter once again. Clearly, he was supposed to elicit some kind of information from her. Otherwise, the trap would already have been sprung.
    “So,” she murmured once the waiter had left. “Is the Resistance prepared?”
    “What? Oh, yes.” Taking a deep breath, Peter idly tapped the table with his right hand. “We just need to know where and when.”
    I'll bet you do, Eve thought. “Am I to give it to you here?”
    Green lights flashed over the table. Leaning back, they both watched the drinks and chips drop down from the ceiling before them.
    “Yes, yes. Here.” A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. “Here is fine.”
    Of course, Eve hadn't dared carry a gun through an occupied city, and there’s no way the Vextar would have trusted Peter with anything more lethal than a toothpick. But Eve had a pretty good idea who might be packing, and how she might arm herself on the fly.
    Delicately taking a sip, Eve nodded. “I'll be back in a moment. Stay at the table until I return.”
    Confusion spread over Peter’s face. He'd been told, no doubt, to keep her seated and vulnerable. “Where are you going? You just got here.”
    “I need to get the package.” Smiling, she squeezed his hand once more. “Don't worry, Peter. I'll be right back.”
    Drawn and haggard, he didn’t answer. Standing, Eve playfully stretching her arms wide, taking one last look around. With a casual air, she then made her way toward the front of the restaurant.
    The flashing, multi-colored hostess stood her ground, thoughtfully eyeing her target’s approach. This was setting off alarm bells, Eve knew, but there were at least a few moments more to play with.
    ‘Heather,’ Eve’s student/party girl cover, would naturally take the opportunity to flirt with the beautiful young woman once more on the way to the bathroom. And having hinted at the prospect of