"The son-of-a-bitch must have had his office rent a limo instead of using his own. If we hadn't been following his security person, too, we would have...missed him. Our guy barely managed to slap a tracker on the limo, and if he hadn't, we would have been shit out of luck. The damn diplomat walked out the employee entrance of the building just as the limo rolled up. And ... somewhere in the building, the son-of-a-bitch changed into jeans, a flannel shirt and a fucking ball cap. He looked like a. “You're an item?” “Depends on what item means.” “Do you sleep wih him?” Miranda laughed. “Do you mean sleep or fuck?” She enjoyed saying “fuck” to strangers. Especially this one. Catherine tried but failed not to look flustered. Then she said, “I mean fuck.” Miranda shook her head. Catherine's pupils were black and dilated, aroused like a hunting cat after dark. “Why not?” Miranda said, “Perhaps I don't want to.” Catherine tilted her head like a curious schoolgirl. Miranda continued, “Or. More

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