A Model Spy. Natalie Dunbar

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      Annika’s condo was built pretty much like Vanessa’s, but the colors and the furniture were different. Annika’s condo had lacquered Asian furniture and splashes of red throughout. Chinese rugs covered most of the hardwood floor in each room she passed.

      Everyone sat in the entertainment room, which also served as the living room and dining room. Annika had used room service to order more appetizers. She drew several bottles of wine from a rack on the counter area in the kitchen. Vanessa placed her bottle of Cristal champagne with the others. The bar in the entertainment room was stocked with virtually everything else.

      With a charming Spanish accent, Estevan, the criminal lawyer she’d met downstairs spoke to Vanessa about his legal exploits. One of his clients was big in the Mafia and was on trial for ordering a hit on a rival. What began as an interesting conversation turned boring as he began to repeat himself. Vanessa tried to change the subject, but he only wanted to talk about himself.

      Several exchanges were going on at once. One couple was openly making out in a corner of the room, another couple was out on the terrace, smoking a joint. When Estevan palmed Vanessa’s breast and tried to put his tongue down her throat, she pushed him away and asked him to take it slow. Two minutes later he was grabbing her ass as she reached for her glass. She lost it—one backward jab of her elbow to his chest and he was coughing and gasping for breath.

      “Would you like some water?” she asked in a voice made to sound concerned. She was glad when Estevan declined and left her to join the group out on the terrace. Across the room, she caught Mackenzie watching her. He looked amused. Apparently he’d seen the whole thing.

      Scanning the room, she saw that everyone was engaged one way or another. It was the perfect time to check Annika’s condo. She stood and casually walked to the kitchen.

      The room had been decorated in the zen fusion style, which Vanessa remembered meant beautiful materials simply used to transmute the ordinary into quiet grace. There was a stainless-steel refrigerator, matching stainless steel oven and a hardwood floor. Dark granite covered the counters.

      Opening a honey-colored hardwood cabinet, Vanessa scanned the contents. It was filled with strawberry, vanilla and chocolate diet drinks, diet soda and enough powdered shake mix to last a month. Vanessa understood what she was looking at; she’d gone to the grocery store this morning and now her own cupboards looked like Annika’s.

      The opposite kitchen cabinet was filled with every kind of vitamin imaginable, as well as a number of diet drugs and medicines to clean out the body. So far nothing seemed unusual.

      Reaching up, Vanessa opened the small center cabinet and stared. Front and center among the spices was a clear glass bottle with a label that read “Caribbean Mama Spice Mix.”

      Her pulse sped up and she suddenly felt hot and sweaty despite the air-conditioned room. She tore off a sheet of paper towel and, securing the bottle, opened it and poured about half a teaspoonful on to the paper towel. It certainly looked like spice. Folding it carefully into a packet, she slipped it into the pocket of her jeans. Then she closed the jar. As she placed it back in the cabinet, she heard a noise behind her.

      “What are you doing?” someone asked in an indignant voice.

      Startled, Vanessa shrieked. The cabinet banged shut. She turned to find Annika standing in the kitchen doorway, glaring at her.