License to Love (An Agent Ex Novel) Read Free Page B

Probably another loony.
    Rock tipped the dealer, took his payoff and, ignoring his better judgment, followed the stranger as he wound his way through the crowd and the neon art in the hotel.
    His contact had the good grace to allow him to collect his cash before leading him out of the casino into the bright, flashing neon magic on the Strip. Rock pretended to stash his payoff in his wallet and put it in his jeans pocket. In reality, he used sleight of hand to stash it in a concealed money belt.
    “Paranoid?” Rock asked the man as they walked out of the casino toward the street.
    The man shrugged. “No more than you are, stashing your cash in a money belt.”
    Rock stopped and stared at him. How the hell had he seen that? Rock’s diversionary sleight of hand tricks never failed.
    The man laughed and kept walking. Rock rushed to keep up with him. Rock was a world-class magician. If this guy hadn’t been distracted by the motion Rock made of stuffing the wallet in his pocket, this guy was something else. A formidable foe. A danger. Rock’s heart raced.
    “Don’t look so worried,” the guy said as he kept walking. “I know a bit of magic myself. When I was a small boy, John Mulholland taught me my first trick or two.”
    “You knew the great Mulholland?” Mulholland had been a magician for the CIA. The hairs stood up on the back of Rock’s neck. This guy really was a spy buff.
    Rock grabbed spywannabe’s arm. “What game are you playing? What do you know about Lani?”
    “Everything,” he said. “But here’s not the place. Trust me when I tell you that you have too many enemies here. Far too many enemies. You’ve stirred up trouble, boy. In more quarters than you know.” He shook off Rock’s hand and led him away from the hotel, down the street, and into a shadowy back alley.
    Rock had to be crazy, certifiable to follow this guy. But he did. It was a balmy evening. A nice night for a walk if you weren’t out with a crazy. Finally, his contact stopped in the shadows upwind from a garbage Dumpster and leaned casually against a brick wall, studying Rock.
    The guy wore an expensive suit. Rock wouldn’t have touched a thing in that alley, let alone risk staining or snagging his suit. But his contact wasn’t so finicky.
    It was warm, almost too warm for the hoodie Rock wore. But he didn’t take it off. And he didn’t lean against the wall, either. “What do you know about Lani?”
    “Direct and to the point. I like that.” As the guy smiled, his teeth gleamed white in the shadows. “But it’s generally considered polite to make introductions first, before delving into business.” He stuck out his hand, offering to shake. “Emmett Nelson, chief of National Clandestine Services. Recently appointed head of domestic spying for the top-secret antiterrorist task force. You can call me Emmett or Chief. Or Mr. Nelson, if you prefer. Pleased to meet you.”
    When Rock hesitated, Nelson laughed.
    “Don’t trust me?” Emmett said. “Afraid I have something lethal up my sleeve?”
    Rock’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve never heard of National Clandestine Services.”
    Nelson sighed. “What? Never heard of the spying arm of the Central Intelligence Agency?”
    “CIA? What the hell?” Rock didn’t trust him, but he shook Nelson’s hand to humor him. Nelson had a firm, confident, calloused grip, the grip of a man who knew how to take care of himself, and who fired a gun often.
    “Yeah, I know,” Nelson said, releasing Rock’s hand. “Sad how many Americans don’t know the official title of the spying branch of the Agency. Too many people don’t realize the Agency is made up of many divisions, most of them desk jobs, analysts, and eggheads. The spying part is just the most fun.” His eyes twinkled. “I have the best job in the world.”
    Rock shook his head, still wondering whether to believe this guy with his spy complex, or brush him off as a loony. He decided to run with it a while. “What does the