The corner of his mouth pulled up in unrepentant amusement.
“Markus,” she said sharply. She was just a regular spy on a mission with her partner, whom she trusted. She did not sign up forMr. and Mrs. Smith.
“What? He’s funny.”
“Just don’t forget who he is, okay?” she said.Please don’t let me find anything.
“Gabby, I’m a professional. I’ve got this.”
Was he doing a really good job with undercover work, or was he getting too cozy with a guy they would have to arrest before the weekend was out?
Two minutes later, the fasten seat belt light turned off, and Markus stood to use the bathroom. He left his phone sitting on his seat, just daring her to snoop.
Instead, Gabby stared deliberately forward at the flight tracker.
Morning but feels like midnight, Ponta Delgada Airport, São Miguel
After an unfortunately long layover in Boston and nearly a day of travel, Gabby was both exhausted and wired all at the same time. Her ears were popping, the landing gear was down, and her nerves were set to extra. They were descending toward the Ponta Delgada Airport on the largest island in the Azores, São Miguel. Like Hawaii, it was a volcanic island. Tropical plants, warm weather, beaches—paradise may have been forged in hell, but that was a long time ago. No lava to be seen these days. From the looks of it, it was all waterfalls and flowers.
“We’re here!” she said, an explosion of butterflies in her stomach. It was almost go time.
When she turned off airplane mode on her phone, it blew up with a whole day’s worth of notifications: The kids had been tardy, the plumber she’d called couldn’t get into the house, Granny wanted to know where the plumber was, weather alerts, and the regular news. It was Scorpio season, and things were getting spicy. There were no suspects in the Amanda Duvall murder. Sheridan’s disappearance still hadn’t made the news.
The plane pulled to a stop on the tarmac, and some people in high-visibility vests wheeled a staircase to the exit. Gabby’s first feel of the Azores was a perfect seventy degrees. At the top of the staircase, she took in the tropical island and ocean. Her spirit soared. She was an EOD field operative, landing in paradise to protect the president. Her kids were safe at home, and she was about to save the world, or something like that. Maybe she did have it all. Sometimes. Not last week for sure, but now that she was being paid to go on vacation—maybe.
“Bem-vindo aos Açores!” A flight attendant spoke to them in Portuguese, and Gabby smiled pleasantly like she knew what was going on.
After collecting their luggage, Markus glanced at his phone and reported, “We’re supposed to meet a G-Wagon in front of the airport.”
Twenty minutes later, a young blonde with yoga vibes and a face that didn’t need makeup hung her head out the window of a sporty-looking SUV with surfboards on the roof and honked. “Gia and George?” she called. When they nodded, she said, “My name’s Aspen, and I’m your ticket to paradise. Get in.”
As Aspen tossed Louis V into the back of the SUV, Gabby said, “Sorry. We probably missed you. We were looking for a G-Wagon.”
“Oh, this is the G-Wagon.”
Gabby laughed at herself. “I’m always getting stuff like that mixed up.” This did not look like the G-Wagon all the LA celebrities and Bentley’s mom drove.
“This is the Inner-G wagon,” Aspen answered in a profound voice.
Markus whispered in Gabby’s ear. “I don’t know if Genesis realizes that anyone else uses the letter G.”
“Help yourself to refreshments,” Aspen said. “There’s a mini fridge in the back.”
Gabby opened the door to find it stocked with brightly colored juice shots and healthy snacks. “This isn’t alcoholic, is it?” If she started drinking, she’d probably forget who she was supposed to be.
“It’s kombucha, so not really.” As Aspen pulled out of the airport pickup lane onto the highway and accelerated, she explained, “The retreat is on the north side of the island. As you can see, the landscape is mountainous. There are some really amazing hikes if you’re into that sort of thing.”
That would be ano.
After almost an hour in the car, they turned down a long, winding driveway. There was a golf course dotted with palm trees and tropical flowers. Everyone looked rich.
“Big G owns this whole resort.” Aspen pulled up to a large structure. “You’ll see some of these people in your yoga classes and whatnot, but you are part of the Power Couples Retreat, which is more exclusive and—believe it or not—fancier.”
Aspen led them into a luxurious open-air lobby. “Feel free to enjoy any of the resort’s features like the tennis or the juice bars, but you two are the real Gs.”
Was it just Gabby, or was there some appropriation happening here? Genesis went through culture like a marauding army, taking whatever he wanted. Well, anything that started with the letter G. It was a G-heist.
“You’ll have to tell me what the Power Couple life is like because I don’t know.” Aspen shook her head. “Dating—it’s rough out here, people!”
