My Spy by Christina Skye Read Free Book Online Page A

will forget not only her name but everything else that truly matters.

    H E OPENS HIS EYES IN A COLD HOSPITAL ROOM. HE LIES BATHED in sweat, feeling something move close.
    When he reaches up, the thing with no name flows through his fingers, elusive as sea wind, the what or who or why of it lost beyond reclaiming. He is left with a sadness beyond words.

Chapter Eight
    F IVE.
    Six.
    Seven.
    Annie's brain slowly began to clear as she finished her first set of predawn stretches. Mist curled around her, ghosting through the twisted cypress trees above the beach.
    She had to forget the cloak-and-dagger stuff. Her sleep had been fitful, broken by unsettling dreams. Being around Izzy was making her paranoid.
    As she jogged in place, two otters played a game of touch football in the kelp beds, and she felt her tension lift. Everywhere she looked was sand and sea. She'd loved this beach since she was old enough to paddle through the surf and watch a pod of dolphins click out indecipherable questions. Summerwind commanded a view of twenty miles of coast and Annie savored that beauty, turning slowly, letting the wind play over her. There was no place more beautiful.
    She turned to find Izzy rounding the path from the resort, his nylon jacket snapping in the wind.
    Who else? Annie thought. Her staff knew that her morning runs were sacrosanct, disturbed for nothing less than fire, bankruptcy, or earthquakes.
    She waited with her hands on her hips. “I run alone, Mr. Teague.”
    “Not anymore you don't, Ms. O'Toole.”
    Polite but relentless, Annie thought. “That's ridiculous.”
    Izzy raised his hands, palms up. “Rules.”
    Fuming, Annie set off at a hard clip. When she glancedback, Izzy was maintaining a three-yard distance. Curious, she speeded up.
    He did the same.
    So he'd done this sort of thing before. Probably he'd been assigned to accompany diplomats, military officers, or government officials.
    The least she could do was give him a workout.
    She followed the narrow path over the dune to the beach. Wind tugged at her clothes as she lengthened her stride along the damp, packed sand at the water's edge. There Annie lost herself in the cry of seabirds and the beauty of the dawn streaking red in the east.
    Jogging in place, she stared back at Izzy. “Forget about maintaining a polite distance. If you're going to run, come up here and give me some competition.” She jumped agilely across a narrow arm of the creek that ran down to meet the sea just beyond the resort's boundary.
    Annie knew every curve and rise of the coast. She'd run this way a thousand times, first as a girl, then as a woman. Thanks to the magic of the changing light and windswept water, no two runs were ever the same.
    “I love this place.” Somehow the words spilled out, part of an emotion she couldn't contain.
    “I can see why.” Izzy trotted beside her, matching her stride.
    Annie was irritated to see that he hadn't even broken a sweat. “Do you do this often?”
    “Run?”
    “Run as part of security backup,” Annie clarified.
    “Now and then.” He scanned the slope as he spoke. “Seldom in such beautiful terrain—or such pleasant company. The last man I ran with barked orders into a tape recorder for forty minutes straight.” He shook his head. “Kind of spoils the point of getting away and recharging, if you ask me. Of course, he wasn't asking me.”
    Annie watched him survey the beach, then study the upper orchard. He was very good at his job, she realized. Sam would be in excellent hands.
    Izzy turned. “Do you always come this way?”
    “Most of the time. If there's a storm heading in from sea, I stay close to the woods.” She frowned at his silence. “What aren't you saying?”
    He matched her pace without any sign of exertion. “In the future, I suggest you vary your route.”
    “For security reasons?”
    He nodded. “SOP.”
    Standard operating procedure.
    “I'll consider it,” she muttered.
    His gaze moved back along the