The prime minister is rotten.Was she speaking in code?
“I only have time for TikTok lately,” Gabby said. This morning, she’d seen one where a woman had proclaimed that childless, unmarried women live longer and more happily, are less likely to die from suicide or homicide or car accidents, and have better sex.
Looking at Sheridan, Gabby believed it.
Markus said, “Well, consider us your babysitters. We can’t leave you down here alone and will be checking in periodically.” He handed her a necklace.
Sheridan stopped and gave them a look so pointed that Gabby couldn’t help but think she was having a vision. “I can’t stop you from being here, but I don’t want to go, and I don’t want to see you, talk to you, or know you’re here.”
What? Gabby was surprised. “Don’t you want protection?”
“I’m safer without you.”
Markus drew his brows together in consternation. “I don’t think that’s true.”
But the thing about a psychic is that you can’t argue with their logic because there is none.
At the edge of her patio where they were to part ways, Sheridan stopped and looked back at Gabby and Markus. “You two need a vacation too. Babysit me all you want, but go enjoy a couple’s massage and your plunge pool—”
“Oh, we’re not a couple,” Gabby said.
Sheridan looked between them and smiled like she knew better.
One more question. Gabby asked, “Why do you need a vacation so badly?”
“I’ll answer this, and then I’m done,” Sheridan said.
Gabby nodded her assent.
“I lost a client recently. It was hard on me.”
“I’m so sorry. Who was it?” Gabby asked.
“I said no more questions.” She turned and went back into her cottage, done with Gabby and Markus forever.
Back at the honeymoon cottage, they opened the dead drop bag. It was filled with countersurveillance measures, communication devices, cell phones for them to use only for official purposes, and a couple of sidearms. Inner-G looked like the last place you’d need a gun, especially now that she knew the mission was about a grand gesture gone wrong. When you are so bad at gift giving, the EOD gets involved—that was epic.
“That didn’t go to plan, did it?” Gabby said, setting her gun back in the bag.
“That was not what I expected,” he said. “We can talk it over once I clean up.” Clean up: aka sweep for bugs.
“I’ll clean up too,” she said. Gabby meant a shower.
Washing away travel grime was always refreshing, but Inner-G made it luxurious. The bathroom was filled with products from Jasmine’s ironically named brand, Inner Beauty. The shampoo, and conditioner, and body wash, and lotion—everything smelled expensive.
In a robe that felt like a wearable cloud, her hair wrapped in some kind of fancy hair towel, and wearing personalized fuzzy slippers, Gabby lay down on the bed in a state that wasn’t quite sleeping but wasn’t quite awake. Maybe Sheridan was right. A few days of this might be just what she needed. In her blissed-out haze, she let herself drift off to sleep until she awoke with a start at the feel of the weight of a body on the bed next to her.
“I cleared the room,” he said. “We’re good.”
“Did you find anything?”
He shook his head. “Nada.”
“I must have fallen asleep.” She propped herself up against some pillows.
With a laugh, he said, “Oh, you did.”
“Was I snoring?” She covered her mouth. “Damn it.”
