Stranded with a Spy Read Online Free Page B

handle the situation herself, utilizing one of the more effective moves she’d learned in the self-defense class she’d taken when she first got to D.C. Before the heel of her hand could connect with the bridge of the beefy tourist’s nose, however, he jerked backward. A startled Mallory watched him lift off his feet. A second later, he landed butt-first in the stone horse trough.
    “What the hell…?”
    Cursing, he struggled to lever himself out of the narrow trough. The man who’d put him there planted a hand on his head, pushing him down and under.
    As her attacker gurgled and flailed his arms and legs, Mallory’s surprise gave way to fierce delight. The dunking went on a little too long, however. She was about to issue a curt order not to drown the bastard when the man holding him under relented.
    The jerk who’d accosted her came up sputtering and ready to fight. When he shook the water from his eyes and got a good look at the individual looming above him, however, he plopped back down into the water.
    “Smart move,” his chastiser said in a voice as deep as it was cool and steady. “I suggest you listen next time a lady says no.”
    “Yeah, yeah, okay.”
    When the stranger straightened and stepped out of the shadows, Mallory registered short-cropped brown hair, wide shoulders and a well-cut sports jacket paired with an open-necked shirt. Then she saw the scars puckering one side of his neck and swallowed a gulp. No wonder the loudmouthed tourist had planted his butt back into the water.
    “You okay?” the newcomer asked.
    “I’m fine.” Rattled by the incident and pissed at having the first day of her precious vacation tainted by the ugliness she’d come here to escape, Mallory’s response was somewhat less than gracious. “Thanks.”
    Her tone implied she could have handled the situation herself. She reinforced that impression by sweeping past both men. The one still standing said nothing, but the waterlogged tourist made the mistake of muttering aloud, “Bitch.”
    The vicious epithet was followed by a yelp and another splash. Mallory didn’t slow or bother to look around. For all she cared, the scarred stranger could drown the moron.

Chapter 3
    M allory had never climbed so many steps in her life!
    The stairs leading to the abbey were carved into the granite. In some places they climbed straight up. In others, they followed a zigzag pattern that shortened the rise but doubled the distance required to travel. She stopped several times along the way to shake the kinks out of her calves and was huffing long before she reached the small terrace that faced the abbey’s magnificent vaulted doors.
    If the steep climb and the wind whipping off the Bay of St. Malo hadn’t stolen Mallory’s breath, the view would have done the trick. Waiting for her heart to stop hammering, she leaned her elbows on the terrace wall. Far below, mud-brown flats stretched all the way to the sea. A storm was forming far out on the bay. Thunderclouds had piled up, forming a dramatic vista and no doubt accounting for the wind that whipped Mallory’s hair.
    She was surprised to see people walking across the flats. Signs posted all around Mont St. Michel warned about the dangers of quicksand. They also posted the time of the incoming tide.
    Frowning, Mallory glanced at her watch. She’d wasted too much time in the village. She’d have to hurry her tour of the abbey to get back down to the parking lot before the water nipped at the rental’s tires.
    Adjusting her sunglasses, she eased into the stream of tourists entering the cathedral. She’d already decided not to join one of the guided tours that took visitors through the adjacent Benedictine monastery. After the nasty incident in the village, she was in no mood for the company of others. Instead, she slipped through the cathedral’s massive doors and was immediately swallowed by the vastness of its nave.
    Like most European churches, this one was laid out in the shape