I, Spy? (Sophie Green Mysteries, No. 1) (Sophie Green Mystery)

starting by waking him up with a nice gentle bikini wax, but then it occurred to me that I didn’t really want to get into his pants that much any more. “Something painful,” I said.
    “We have to be careful,” Luke said. “He’s a foreign national. Ultimately we have to return him to the Norwegian authorities and if he’s in bad shape, they might not be very happy with us.”
    “Don’t we have, like, privileges about that or something?” I asked through another biscuit.
    “Privileges about beating up foreigners? Sophie, you ever hear of the Geneva Convention?”
    I made a face and swallowed my biscuit. “So what are we allowed to do to him?”
    He winked. “Things that don’t leave marks.”
    I kept that happy thought in my head as I drove up to the office. I had my stun gun in my bag, fully charged, and was looking forward to seeing what I could do with it. Overnight Sven had turned from a gorgeous fantasy figure to a rather pathetic creature, and to be honest I didn’t want anything to do with him any more. I wasn’t even too bothered about torturing him.
    Well, not too much.
    It was still early and no one else was in the office as we made our way down to the lab. Sven was huddled in a corner of his cell, looking terrified. He stared at me for ages before finally gasping, “Sophie! What is going on here?”
    “You tell me, Sven,” I said, and I was surprised to hear my voice sounding perfectly calm. I folded my arms and looked down at him. He really did look pathetic. What the hell had I ever seen in him? “What was going on last night?”
    He shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. I don’t remember anything.”
    “Do you remember putting something into my drink?”
    He shook his head rapidly. “No, nothing, I swear. Sophie, what is this place? Am I in trouble?”
    “Yes,” I said, “you’re in trouble. You tried to drug my drink, Sven—” to my amazement I realised I didn’t know his last name “—and knock me out.”
    “I didn’t drug anything!”
    “You were seen,” Luke cut in, his voice icy, and once more I was glad he was on my side. He moved to stand just behind me, and I drew an inappropriate amount of pleasure from his nearness. Hey, I was a strong confident woman, I didn’t need a man to back me up.
    It was nice, though.
    “We have a witness ready to state that you were seen putting a tablet into Sophie’s drink last night,” Luke went on.
    “But—did you drink it?”
    “No,” I said. “You did.”
    Sven stared wildly around for a few seconds as if he was trying to take it all in. I turned to Luke and lowered my voice.
    “Is it okay for him to see all the stuff in here?”
    He shrugged. “It’s just a lab. Everything’s locked up. You need a pass to get in.”
    “He has a pass…”
    “A proper pass. It needs to be put through the system.” He glanced back at Sven. “You done with him?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Leave him stewing. We need to go and get something concrete from your friend Tom anyway.”
    We left Sven crying out for help and I couldn’t help my lip curling as the lift doors slid shut.
    “I see the Florence Nightingale complex passed you by,” Luke said, smiling.
    “What?”
    “You don’t find him remotely attractive, all helpless like that?”
    I made a face. “Kittens are cute when they’re helpless. All animals are cute when they’re helpless. People…need to get a grip. That was just pathetic.”
    “Remind me to never get hurt when you’re around.”
    Because if he was hurt, I’d have to look after him. And unless it was minor and I ended up shagging him out of relief (he’d done it to me) then he’d probably die. I was not one of life’s nurses.
    Outside in the sunlight things were starting to come to life. People were parking up outside the other little offices and workplaces, the day was starting. I yawned.
    “So where does Tom live?” Luke asked, and I tried to remember.
    “I don’t know the address. I know where it is… Chalker’s always getting me to pick him up from there.”
    “So drive on.”
    I looked at my watch. It was eight o’clock. “You’re kidding, right?”
    “No.”
    “Tom is not going to be awake at eight o’clock. He probably didn’t get home until about three or four and I doubt if he went straight to bed.”
    “So we wake him up.”
    Visions of fighting through the messy, smoky hole of Tom’s room fogged up my brain, and I shook my head to clear it. “No,” I said.