The Spy Devils by Joe Goldberg (top rated books of all time .TXT) 📕

lie. Lots of LOLs and LMAOs. She turned her camera on without warning. There she was on his screen. A smile inside a perfect face. She was prettier than Ms. Ira.

Ms. Ira! I need to work on her case…later.

NEW: Well? Turn on UR (camera emoji)!

Pavlo closed his eyes, raised his hand over the key, and pushed. When he opened his eyes, she was still there.

She waved.

“Hello, Thunderlover,” she said in a voice that sounded like vanilla.

He waved back.

Tinka’s smile seemed even broader.

Her hair was a mixture of red, blonde, and brown, resembling the color of a country road. It hung into her turquoise eyes and down the sides of her round face to her shoulders. She wore a sheer white blouse that buttoned down the front with small shiny buttons. The outline of a black bra was barely visible. Pavlo could not help but look at her chest, where the button was open on the shirt at the convergence of her breasts. He could see the lace of the bra and a small red bow.

They kept talking until they agreed to meet at midnight at The Caribbean Club for drinks and dancing and fun.

She saw him in the crowded club before he saw her. There was a tug on the sleeve of his shirt, and he felt a peck on his cheek. He turned too defensively and pushed her without seeing who it was. Pavlo was terrified as he watched her fall back and bump into a group of people who yelled and pushed her back. He caught her.

She wore the same white blouse with shiny buttons. Below was a black thigh-length pleated skirt. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and alternated colors with the disco lights.

“I’m…I’m sorry. I should go,” Pavlo spluttered, his words faltering as tears filled his eyes.

“Don’t be silly!” Tinka grabbed him and gave him a bear hug. Her arms barely reaching halfway around his sweat-soaked midsection. “I am so happy to meet you.”

In shock, Pavlo reached around and reciprocated with a hug of his own. He could feel the contours of her body against his. Her hair was in his face. She smelled like fresh rain.

After they separated, Pavlo bought beers. He hadn’t had a beer in as long as he could remember. He didn’t like the taste, but this evening, in the heat and noise of the nightclub, it was wonderful.

“I don’t want any more beer,” she screamed into his ear over the noise twenty minutes later. “This round is on me.”

She headed off in the direction of the bar. When he lost sight of her in the crowd, he knew what was happening. Tinka was escaping him now that she saw him in person. The tears started to form in his eyes. He waited a few minutes, just in case. But when she didn’t return, he turned toward the exit. He felt a tug on his arm.

“Try this!” Her smiling face was inches from his. She thrust a large glass filled with a clear liquid and lime into his hand. “A delicious drink. Vodka tonic! Drink. Drink!”

She used her beautiful hand to help him raise the glass. He took a few sips, then a few more. Tinka was right. The refreshing drink did feel good in the steaming dance club.

“Come on, Pavlo. Have some fun!” Tinka was smiling and laughing as she dragged him onto the dance floor.

He thought that maybe it was the constant strobing of the lights and booming of the dance music making him nauseous and drowsy.

“I am hot.” Pavlo was rubbing his hand on his head.

She bit his earlobe, then screamed into Pavlo’s ear.

“Me too. Let’s go to my place.”

“I…um…well,” he mumbled in shock.

A light drizzle was falling when they stepped into the heavy 3 a.m. Kyiv air. A short walk through a courtyard brought them to Symona Petlyury Street. Pavlo staggered and grabbed Tinka to lean on her for support.

“It is a beautiful spring rain.” She locked her arm around his and dragged him along the damp street. She guided him right, then left, then straight down the narrow Nazarivska Street. It ran along one side of the Botanical Gardens. The van was idling in the darkness down the block under the overhanging trees of the gardens.

She had to hurry. The Rohypnol she had dumped into his drink was close to taking full effect, and he was too fat and heavy for her to carry alone.

37

Where is Tinka?

Kyiv, Ukraine

Pavlo was not sure if his memories were real or just drunken delusions.

He recalled rain. Drinks. Laughter. A car. A person in a black hood. Screams. Breaking glass. The smack of fist on flesh. Again. A woman screamed. A fist in his stomach. Then another. Gasping for air. Darkness. Silence.

A bag was covering his head.

Something sharp dug into his shoulders and chest securing him to whatever he was sitting on. His hands were cuffed tightly to what felt like a ring bolt on top of a table. His fingers swollen and numb. The panic set in. He was hyperventilating, and the resulting dizziness made him sick.

Then he remembered Tinka.

“Tinka!” he shouted, as he jerked and twisted. “Tinka, are you here?”

His words echoed from one wall to the other, then he heard the metal on metal grind of a latch opening.

With a click, bright light burned into his eyelids through the hood. Pavlo turned his head away, rocked from side to side, and squeezed his lids as tight as he could. It didn’t help. With the light came heat, sweat, and fear.

Then, as quickly as it arrived, the light dimmed to a tolerable level. The hood was ripped off Pavlo’s head. With some effort, Pavlo opened his eyes. He blinked away tears and bright spots as the space around him came into focus. The room was small, maybe ten feet square, with cinder block walls and concrete floors. No windows. He was sitting at a metal table. Two empty chairs were on the other side. Between