The Spy Wore Spurs by Dana Marton

Author:Dana Marton
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2012-09-17T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

The workers used the back entry. Since she needed to get to the offices, Grace went in through the front.

Daisy Webster sat in her chair for once, instead of chasing after another man on the factory floor. She looked up from her web surfing just in time to notice Grace. She wore some fancy fashion top with an asymmetric neck that plunged way too low. Rumor had it her fashion addiction usually took more than one man to support.

“Hey, there, Gracie.” The greeting rang out in a cool tone. Daisy had endlessly chased after Tommy back in the day. Tommy had never paid her any attention, which earned a good deal of resentment from Daisy after a while, and that resentment had spread to include Grace. “Who are you looking for?”

She would have preferred sneaking up the staircase without anyone noticing her, but there was no way to do that.

“Bobbi Marzec.” She said the first name that popped into her head, loudly—even out here, you could hear the machines. Bobbi kept the office computers in shape and he’d been one of Tommy’s friends.

“Is he expecting you?”

“He wants to buy Tommy’s dirt bike.” She stuck with the truth while going around the question.

Daisy shrugged then went back to her computer, probably scanning online deals on fashion and fashion accessories. Grace headed up the stairs, hurrying.

The mill offices sprawled on the top floor of the flat, three-story building. She passed several people on her way up, but didn’t know any of them. There’d obviously been some turnover since old man Mitzner had died. Mikey probably brought his own cronies on board, people who gave him their undivided loyalty and admiration, agreeing with all his ideas wholeheartedly.

His father had a couple of tough old bird managers. Mikey wouldn’t like that, she thought, and her suspicions were confirmed as she walked by a row of offices, all with new faces behind the desk. The average managerial age had dropped at least twenty years since she’d last been here.

Bobbi’s office was in the left wing of the top floor. She’d have to go there, too, at one point. In case Daisy asked him how the dirt bike deal went. But first she wanted to check out Mikey’s office; she had no idea how long he’d be gone.

She went straight to the back. Nobody paid her much attention. Then her luck ran out. The door wouldn’t budge when she twisted the knob. If this was a movie, she’d pull some pins from her hair and would be inside under a minute, she thought. But her short hair didn’t need pins, and she wasn’t exactly comfortable with breaking and entering.

She looked through the glass, but didn’t see anything suspicious inside: shelves, stacks of paper, a laptop in the center of the desk. No big sign on the wall that said, I Smuggle Drugs, or, I Support Illegal Immigration.

Maybe she should wait until Mikey came back. She could then get into his office with some trumped-up excuse, look around surreptitiously while distracting him with some chatter.

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