Page 26

"Enjoy the rest of your stay in Shanghai," Sing says as I climb into the back of the car. I give him a nod before Sandra closes the door, leaving me once again ensconced in chilled, filtered air and the feel and smell of black leather.

She gets into the front seat with the driver, and we merge into traffic.

"You have a few hours to rest now and get dressed," she tells me. "Then the party at the consulate."

"Okay, thank you." I lean my head back against the seat and close my eyes, willing my mind to settle. But the weight of the necklace around my neck is heavy, my task feeling suddenly very real. My hands itch to open the locket and see what's inside.

I still don't know how I'm supposed to get whatever it is into Vladimir's drink. I'm not a freaking magician…or a waiter. But I guess now I am officially a spy.

Closingthe hotel suite door I stand for a moment in the hush of luxury. Floor to ceiling windows expose a cloudy day, the high-rises around me reflecting the silver gray of the sky.

My hand comes up to the locket and my head bends down so that I am curling around it—mimicking the pose of the dragon figure depicted on the quarter-sized locket cover. The horned beast, with its long body, delicate wings, and split tongue, has a jade eye set into the gold.

I run my finger over the clasp, heart pounding.What is inside?Part of me wants to rip it open, face whatever my future holds. But another part is terrified and urges me to flush the necklace down the toilet.It’s too heavy. It would just sit at the bottom of the bowl.Fine, then throw it out one of those giant windows.They don’t open.

There is no escaping this.

Just open it!

My nail dips under the clasp and I pause, holding my breath, blood rushing in my ears. I apply light, sustained pressure, my teeth digging into my bottom lip, and the locket opens with a soft click.

Pulling the two halves apart, I find a ring nestled into a velvet cushion—a gold band with a white stone half the size of my pinky nail. I tip the locket, dropping the ring into my palm and stare at it before returning my attention to the empty case.

There are no instructions.

Casting my gaze around the sitting room, I taste blood in my mouth, and realize I’ve bitten my lip hard enough to cut it.

Nervous energy forces me to move. Gripping the ring in my palm, I hurry into the bedroom, drop my purse on the bed and sit next to it, staring down at my fisted hand.

Slowly, I open my fingers and it’s still there. I pull the chain over my head and inspect the locket casing again, hoping for a clue. Finding none, I return my attention to the ring.I should put it on.

The metal slips over my knuckle, settling onto the base of my middle finger. The stone shimmers like freshly fallen snow. It’s a simple and elegant adornment.

Feeling the underside of the ring, I discover a small notch. I press it and the stone pops out, skipping across the white carpeting and disappearing into the thick weave. My heart skips along with it.Crud, where did it go?

I drop onto my hands and knees, running my fingers over the floor. Crud, crud, crud.What kind of a spy loses the damn poison pill?

Its hard surface brushes my palm, and I let out a long breath as I scoop it up and sit back against the bed. The ring band has small gold tongs, now empty, meant to hold the smooth stone in place. I put the oblong, shimmering gem back in the center of the ring and push at the ridge on the underside again. The tongs grasp the pill, and all is as it was.

So, I just have to get my middle finger over his drink and release the pill.That's all.A laugh bubbles up in me, and I bite my lip hard enough to shoot a zing of pain through me.

I check my watch—I have about two hours until I need to be ready. The weight of my day and the last few weeks lands on my shoulders. I'm exhausted and I need to shower after my spicy, sweaty meal.

Putting the ring on the dresser top next to the now-empty locket, I strip and head to the bathroom. I spend a good amount of time in the shower, just letting the water pound over me, getting lost in its hum, letting all my thoughts wander at will. My trainer, Synthia Taylor, is always pushing me to meditate—now that I am actually involved in an operation, I understand why.

Just the fear of the unknown will suck you away, much less the actual heat of battle.

Wrapped up in a big towel, I dry my long black hair, being sure to get every last strand straight before climbing into the king-sized bed. I set the alarm, giving myself thirty minutes to nap, and promptly pass out.

When the beeping wakes me, I have to peel my eyes open.Not nearly enough rest.Rolling toward the heinous sound, I smack at the bedside clock until it shuts up, then keep rolling right onto my feet.

The sun, hovering now between the skyscrapers, streams into the bedroom. I blink against its brightness and feel a hot tear hiding among my lashes.Am I going to kill a man tonight?

Resolve hardens in my gut as the tear escapes. I reach for my purse, finding Sing's card. He picks up on the first ring. "I wanted to ask you about the locket you bought for me today," I say.

"Just a trinket," he says. There is traffic noise behind him.

"Yes, I do like it, though. Can you tell me what it's made of?" I twine the bathrobe's tie around my wrist, staring down at it, hoping Sing gets my drift.