Undercover with the Hottie (Investigating the Hottie) Read online

  “I have two hundred dollars from Christmas,” I said. “Let's use that too.”

  Sidney and Leah grinned at me.

  “We'll leave a few toys here. Just enough for somebody who only got ten dollars from their grandparents to buy something cool. Then we'll get the rest, and head over to my mother's. We can unload before going to the next store.”

  I started stacking the boxes of castles and pirate ships into my cart. “I'm so glad I came.”

  “So am I,” Sidney said. She grabbed some doll houses and neatly stacked them to fit as many as possible into her cart.

  We met up at the loft, and my excitement faded as I saw what Will had been up to. He'd spent the day flirting. Image after image of the girls leaning close, whispering in his ear, making eyes at him.

  “Did she just kiss you?” I asked in horror.

  Will turned red. “On the cheek. Like a European thing.”

  Grandma grinned at his discomfort. “You mean both cheeks, I think.”

  I was buying toys for underprivileged kids, and he was getting kisses.

  “Nice of you to make such sacrifices for us, Will.” My aunt thought she was funny. She was wrong.

  “There's a big party tonight,” Will said. “With a couple of bands.”

  “Do you know where?” Christie asked.

  I couldn't believe she didn't know where. Didn't she know everything?

  Will shrugged. “I don't think they said.”

  “Amanda, can you play the 'my mother needs to know or I can't go' card?”

  “I can, but why me? Why can't Will ask?”

  My aunt gave me a guilty wince. “Um.”

  “Are you seriously treating me and Will differently based on gender?” She couldn't be serious.

  “It just made more sense for you to do it, Amanda. That's all. No hidden agenda. No gender bias. No parenting judgments based on boys versus girls.”

  Grandma just chuckled to herself.

  Will shifted in his seat. “It's okay, Amanda. I'll ask them where the party is.”

  “Not necessary, Will. I wouldn't want to undermine your reputation with the guys. Apparently only girls have to check in with their parents.”

  “It's not a problem,” he said.

  “Amanda, I'm not a parent. I don't have a clue about raising teenagers, especially twins who aren’t really twins but are actually secretly dating! Hello! I'm running a spy op here, and my gut was to have you do the asking. I'm not prepared for debates on parenting or psychology or sociology.”

  Maybe I overreacted a little bit. Possibly because I was already annoyed about the lip action Will was getting. But I wasn't wrong about the concept, and I was proud of my feminist tendencies. I sighed. “Fine. I get it. Best for the mission.”

  “I'm not even sure that was offensive to you. I was probably insulting myself.”

  I put my hands on my hips and glared at Christie. “Huh?”

  Grandma chuckled again.

  Will could read me pretty well, and he tried to intervene. “Um, Christie. She was already over it. Maybe you should have left it alone.”

  My aunt gave Will a glare that should have shriveled his eyeballs. “Thanks for your input, Will. I was going to say that what I had actually done was stereotype myself in my role as 'the mother' by making the assumption that 'the mother' would pay more attention to the whereabouts of the daughter.”

  Seriously? She was offended on her own behalf. I shared a look with Will. His blue eyes held a glint of laughter.

  “We should move on,” Grandma said. “We have a lot to discuss.”

  Chapter Eight

  Christie opened her mouth as if to say something but then apparently thought better of it. Her chest rose and fell as she took a deep breath. Then she said, “Okay. Let's cover the inroads we've made already with the networks and devices. Nic should be updating us shortly. Then we'll discuss the best approach to the party.”

  “All we have to do is plug chargers into just about every outlet at the party, and they will disappear very quickly,” Will said.

  “He's right.” I could think of dozens of times I'd heard people complaining about somebody taking their phone chargers. “Nobody will remember to bring theirs out with them, and their batteries will run down.”

  “Guys are even worse,” Will said. “About not charging their phones.” He glanced at me. “I'm not making a social commentary about all teen males.”

  I socked him in the shoulder. “The hard part is going to be keeping people from noticing. I mean, it's kind of weird to go to a party and take a bunch of chargers.”

  Christie nodded. “I guess you would look a bit odd. Like you were peddling cell phone accessories or something.”

  I leaned forward in my chair. “We can sit somewhere, plug in the charger, pretend to text or something, and then get up and move somewhere else but leave the charger. Then start the process over.”

  “As long as you aren't being antisocial,” Christie cautioned. “You don't want to alienate our assets.”

  “We can put some in the bathrooms and bedrooms too.” Will blushed. “If it's at somebody's house.”

  “Right.” Christie looked pointedly at me as she said, “We'll know more when we find out where it is.”

  Oh, for crying out loud. I pulled out my phone and texted Leah. How frustrating.

  Me: Mom needs to know where this party is. Whose house is it at?

  Leah: Uggh. Parents! It's at Matt Daley's in Merrill Hill.

  Me: Thanks. Yeah. Mothers! :(

  Leah: You are going, right? And remember not to tell anybody about today.

  Me: I'm going for sure, and my lips are sealed.

  When I looked up, everybody was staring at me.

  “You were smiling,” Will said, nudging me with his elbow. “I guess you got the info.”

  “I sense that I was the butt of that smile,” Christie said.

  Huh? “Are you losing your mind?”

  Will snorted. “Smiles don't have butts, Christie. Or chins, or arms, or...”

  “I meant like the butt of a joke. You know joke... smile?” Christie looked from Grandma to Will to me. “Okay fine. Where is the party?”

  “Matt Daley's.”

  Grandma typed quickly on the keyboard she'd attached to her tablet. “His mother and stepfather live in Merrill Hill. His father lives in Tribeca.”

  “Merrill Hill,” I said.

  Her face lit with a smile. “Isn't this convenient. His stepfather is Steven Nguyen, an Australian national and high ranking UN staffer. And his mother is an artist, and a pretty talented one. Her art will be the perfect excuse to wander the house.”

  “We can't both be interested in art, though,” Will said. “That wouldn't be realistic.”

  “You can go looking at art, and Amanda can go in search of you.” Christie held up a hand as if to stave off any argument. “If boys think you are just around the next corner, they will be more likely to behave with Amanda.”

  “I can take care of myself.” I could take down any of those guys if they tried to mess with me.

  “I know you can, but it's better if you don't call attention to yourself by karate-chopping the football captain or something.”

  “Unless you need to,” Grandma chimed in. “If you need to take one of them out, don't hesitate.”

  “Oh, I won't,” I said, flexing my muscles.

  Will made a show of reaching over to feel my bicep. “Nice.”

  “Don't mess with me,” I said, making a fist.

  He held up his hands in surrender. “I would never.”

  Never? Like, for real, never? I frowned.

  Will's eyes narrowed as he took in my frown. Then the corner of his mouth quirked into the start of a grin, and he winked at me.

  “Barf,” Christie said. “Enough with the flirting.”

  Ignoring her, I winked back at him.

  “This was a bad idea.” My aunt snapped her laptop shut. “We never should have used the tw
o of you on this mission together. You can't pull off brother and sister.”

  “Yes, we can,” I said. “We'll just stay away from each other most of the time.”

  “Right,” Will said. “We can.”

  “Make sure you aren't making eyes at each other across the room,” Christie said.

  “We won't. Besides, we're too busy. We're trying to make friends with people and spot anything suspicious and plant these charger-bugs, and we're thinking about a million things at once.” And only about a thousand were related to how cute Will was. Maybe a hundred thousand, but still...

  Will chimed in. “She's right. Plus, those girls aren't giving me any time to flirt with Amanda. I'm flirting at top speed as it is.”

  I gripped my phone tightly in my hand. Stupid girls. Flirting and kissing his cheek. Stupid, stupid, stupid. “Hey,” I said. “Maybe we should give Will a couple of big oozing zits. That way, he might have time to get free from the fan club and actually work on the mission.”

  Grandma quirked a grin and looked away.

  Will smiled.

  Christie rolled her eyes. “You guys already have an in to this crowd. I may as well do that for both of you so you can concentrate on the mission. Do you want to ooze white cells or just have the zits bleed?”

  Crud. I should have known better than take on Christie. I steeled my shoulders and met her gaze. “White cells.”

  “Nose, chin, or forehead?” She didn't blink.

  I wasn't backing down. “Chin.”

  “And what about a double-header? Or one with three heads-”

  “Uncle,” I said. “Uncle. I give up. No zits. No puss.”

  Christie beamed, her white smile wide enough for a toothpaste commercial. “Don't mess with the big dog.”

  I turned to Will and made a face.

  His complexion had a green tinge.

  “Quit picturing it,” I said, when I realized his gaze was focused on my chin.

  “I have a vivid imagination.”

  “Since the flirting is finished,” Grandma said, “we should get on with the meeting.”

  It took everything I had in me to stop myself from sticking my tongue out at Grandma.

  “Hey, honey!” Nic called from the front door. “I'm home!”

  Will and I turned to greet Nic as Grandma mumbled, “And here comes the flirting Nic and Christie style.”

  Nic strode towards Christie, went around the table, wrapped his arms around her, and said, “Did you miss me, baby?”

  “Is the door shut?” Christie asked.

  “Yes,” he answered.

  “Then, no. Not so much.”

  Christie's denial didn't faze him. “Oh, come on, baby. Give me some sugar.” Nic tried to get his lips on her face as she twisted to evade him.

  “Nic,” she squealed, “we don't have time for this. The kids have a party tonight.”

  He finally released her, winked at Grandma, and pulled out a chair. “So where are we?” he asked after sitting.

  “What was that?” I asked Will in a faux whisper.

  He shrugged. “I guess he's in a good mood.”

  Nic smiled. “That's right. I had a good day.”

  “Watching sitcoms about fathers in the 1950's?” Christie asked with a scowl. She smoothed her top as if he'd given her cooties.

  “No. The driver's doing well. They expect him to make a full recovery,” he said, with a bright grin.

  “Oh, thank goodness,” Grandma said.

  All five of us were smiling now.

  Nic's smile faded. “Whoever shot him has already hacked into the hospital network and changed his medications in another attempt to take him out. Our team caught it though, and they've gone to paper charting for him while he's there.”

  “Whoever shot him sounds determined to finish him off,” Will noted.

  “They won't succeed,” Nic said with confidence. “We've dealt with these situations before, and we have some of our best agents on that detail.”

  “Are they working on tracking the hacker?” Grandma asked, her fingers twitching.

  “They have a team on it, but they don't expect to find anything. They are highly skilled and have resources, two bits of information that should help us in the long run. And,” he continued, “we are making inroads with the surveillance devices. I gave rides to twenty-two people from the UN. All but three used a charger on at least one device.”

  “Not bad,” Grandma said. “What about the other three?”

  “One of the women wasn't in the car long enough to bother. Another refused because she'd just replaced her phone after using an off-brand charger. The third, though, seemed suspicious.”

  “How so?” Christie asked.

  “He didn't touch his phone when he was in the car. Didn't make a call, didn't text. He refused the offer of the charger, and he didn't make conversation. He seemed entirely too cautious for a pencil pusher at the UN.”

  “Who was it?” Grandma asked, her fingers poised on the keyboard.

  “Bill Smith.”

  “Nationality?”

  “American.”

  We were all quiet for a moment as we took in that information.

  “Are we sure he isn't one of ours?” Christie asked.

  “I called it in,” Nic answered. “He isn't an American agent.”

  “How do we investigate him?” I asked. “Or is another team doing it?”

  “Christie can go in undercover at the UN, or she can work it from another angle.”

  “It's already Friday,” Grandma said. “I doubt he's working on a Saturday right after Christmas.”

  “He might,” Nic said. “He tends to work on weekends. If not, he has a regular gym routine. Christie can access his phone there.”

  “Sounds good,” my aunt said. “Either way. Piece of cake.”

  “Meanwhile, Nic, we have access to Nguyen's place tonight.” Grandma handed him her tablet.

  He nodded. Then he typed something in. “One of the women from today has a daughter who's fifteen. She may be too young for the party, but if she shows up, try to make contact. Her name is Esme.”

  “Sidney might know her,” I suggested. “It shouldn't be hard.”

  “That Smith guy doesn't have kids?” Will asked.

  Nic shook his head. “No kids, no wife, no significant other.”

  Suspicious.

  “You kids go ahead and get changed for the party,” Christie said. “We'll put together a five minute briefing for you before you go.” She looked at me. “Will has it easy, but you probably want to dress like you're going to a club. Dress to impress.”

  Easier said than done. “I guess I should see what's in my closet then.”

  “What about dinner?” Will asked.

  “We can order in,” Grandma said.

  “Is there something besides Chinese and pizza?” I asked. “I kind of want a burger and fries.”

  “This is New York City,” Grandma said, “everybody delivers.”

  Dressing to go out wasn't a team activity. I showered, washed my hair, dried it, and straightened it with my flat iron. Now, with the door to my room securely locked, I stood in my bra and undies in front of my closet. I didn't want to overdress. Grandma had filled my closet with a variety of dresses, skirts, and tops. There was no shortage of sparkle, but I guess that was appropriate for the season. Six pairs of shoes stood at attention across the floor of the closet.

  Did Christie seriously mean dress to impress? I'd totally feel like Holiday Barbie in a couple of these dresses. If I put them on and stood next to a Christmas tree, a little girl might mistake me for her Christmas present. I thought back to last night. Those girls had worn skirts even though they were just hanging out at Leah's house.

  And I'd been wearing gym shorts. I sighed, resigning myself to dressing up. I found a pair of black tights in my dresser and tugged them on. I chose one of the dresses that looked like a black sleeveless top with a short gold, brocade skirt. Then I slipped on the lowest p
air of black heels. I looked good. Mom would never have gone for a dress this short, but I did have tights on so I didn't feel as exposed. I leaned down to touch my toes, and the dress rode way up but not enough to show my undies. I needed to accessorize. I glanced around the room. I hadn't brought any jewelry, and I didn't see any in here.

  I opened the door to go ask Christie, and I found Will standing there. He wore a pair of jeans, surprise, and a rugby shirt like the one West had been wearing last night. He had a new black leather jacket that looked expensive, and he smelled like heaven. Well, he smelled like God had taken the yummiest shampoo and cologne and mixed them together with cute boy.

  “You look amazing,” he said reaching out to touch the skirt.

  “It's short,” I said, like an idiot.

  “It's perfect,” he said, tugging on the brocade.

  “I still need jewelry and makeup.”

  “Come down here, Amanda,” Christie called. “We've got some choices for you.”

  I stepped back into the room to get my phone and my purse, and then I followed Will down to the kitchen island. The black marble top was covered with jewelry and hair accessories.

  “Oh, don't you look gorgeous,” Grandma said.

  “Is it too much?” I asked.

  “No,” Will said, very quickly. Then he blushed and looked away.

  “Couldn't you find something cute for her that wouldn't turn him into a drooling moron?” Christie said to Grandma.

  Nic finally turned away from the laptop he was working on and glanced my way. His jaw dropped. “Are you kidding me?”

  I squirmed under his scrutiny.

  “Brenda, this is not at all appropriate.” He came over to the island to get a better look. “She can't wear that in public.”

  “Oh, it's not any different than what she wears at home,” Christie argued.

  Yeah. Different. Way different. Mom would freak.

  “Tell him, Amanda,” she added.

  “Um,” I said. “Lots of my friends wear things much skimpier.”

  “She isn't kidding,” Grandma said. “When they showed me the junior dresses section, I thought they'd taken me to lingerie by mistake. These are as modest as it gets.”