God help me. Here we go. I work hard to keep my poker face steady. “No, sir.”
He’s referring to me getting married, moving to the burbs, and adopting a kid. Sure, it’s a lot, but not more than most mencan handle. Honestly, I don’t know why he has a bug up his ass, but I suspect it’s because my wife and the president are friends.
“Is there anything else, sir?” I check the time. “My team’s waiting for me in the conference room.”
“Go, go. Don’t let me keep you. Whatever you learn about this militia group, I want to be informed immediately.”
“Understood.” I’m knee-deep in intel when Gwen calls me at lunchtime.
“Hey, babe. Busy. Not a lot of time.” In a perfect world, I’d talk to her forever, but until I get a break, I need to stay focused.
My spouse, a career woman with deadlines, understands better than most wives. “Sorry, I’ll be quick. The day spa called me back. They said Dolly checked out Sunday night.”
“Uh-huh.” Multi-tasking, I make some more notes in my spreadsheet. According to this report, the Russians have their fingers in my investigation. I need to find out why.
My lovely project planner speaks twice her normal speed. “I tried to get someone other than offshore to call me back, but they said they could not.”
“Yup.” I figure whatever she’s talking about, I can get the details later.
“So, I booked myself a spa weekend starting Friday night.”
“That’s nice.” Her words sink in, then I backtrack fast. “Wait. Hell, to the no.”
Why, in God’s name, would I let her go to a day spa in the middle of nowhere, a facility where her neighbor has gone missing? “You’re not going there alone, Gwen. End of discussion.”
“Correct.” In my mind, I picture her triumphant grin, and for the life of me, I do not know why.
Where’s her argument? Jesus, I don’t have time for this.
She blurts out her answer before I can ask. “I’m inviting Callie to join me. Lochlan already agreed to sit for their kids. You said yourself the place was safe. It sounds awesome. Massages, a shooting range, and some karate classes. You were the one who said I should learn more self-defense. Lucky had no problem letting his wife go. Are you forbidding me?”
Ah shit, a husband trap. No way am I stepping in it. “No, of course not, sweetheart. I’m simply advising caution.”
“Thanks, honey. I knew you would agree.” She hangs up.
What the fuck? I don’t think I said yes. I open my team’s chat window before texting Trever Johnson. He’s one of the most brilliant guys I know and more than capable of doing a little research on the side without getting caught.
Me: Need a favor
Trever: Shoot
Me: Dig into Nirvana Digital Detox Weekend Getaways, and let me know whatever dirt you find.
Trever: Deep dive?
Me: No, not yet.
Wondering if I’m being overly protective, I ping my friend, Lochlan James, AKA Lucky. Surely, the Patten Securities bodyguard would not give his permission unless he vetted the spa. My Aussie buddy doesn’t pick up my call, so I figure he’s guarding some famous person.
Later in the day, wearing an FBI t-shirt with black jeans, my data analyst stops by my cube. “Got a sec?”
“Yeah, sure.” I peer up from my computer while Trever motions me to one of the conference rooms containing a small table and two chairs.
Once the door shuts, the paranoid geek swivels his seat and laptop so no one passing by can read his lips or see his screen. “The spa you mentioned is owned by a shell corporation based in Canada. I’ll need clearance to learn more.”
The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. “Why?”
His frown deepens. Despite being alone, he lowers his voice. “There’s an ongoing investigation. If I drill down further, questions will be asked. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I figured you wanted this kept between us.”
