Maybe they’d just crash.
When Fields and Rutherford disappeared from sight, Wolfe looked over at Angus, his image huge through the computer screen. “You good?”
“I’m good,” Angus said, his expression still pissed. “I guess we’re better at this than I thought. Is there really an island you want to buy?”
“Only if we all have to go in hiding with Jethro,” Wolfe said.
Jethro groaned.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Gemma was beyond frazzled by the time she finished throwing away all the paper plates from dinner. She and Nari had cooked pizzas, and the entire group had eaten at her house. Well, what she considered to be her house. Maybe Serena would sell her the home and build another. The woman did like a good project, and maybe she’d need one after her current jobwas finished.
She tried to push thoughts of Jethro being yanked back to MI6 out of her mind, but she kept failing.
Trudy had been uncharacteristically cranky all night. Maybe the tension emanating from all the adults was getting to her. Not even Roscoe could cheer her up, so Gemma had put herto bed early.
Jethro seemed to be just as grumpy as Trudy and was vocal in his objection to everyone putting their jobs in danger for him. But nobody listened, and soon the whole grouphad dispersed.
At the moment, Jethro was working with Angus Force. They’d taken over the mudroom to try to create a profile on Fletcher, and they didn’t seem to be winding down anytime soon. Jethro had even mounted a corkboard he’d borrowed from somewhere to hang on the wall, and already tons of papers and lines were strewn all over it.
A spike at the back of Gemma’s right eye promised a migraine to come, so she said good night and headed to bed. Hopefully the next day would be better.
She fell into an easy sleep almost immediately, barely registering when Jethro came to bed and wrapped his warm body around her. Her dreams were fractured and distorted, but she journeyed through them with little difficulty.
“Mama? I don’t feel good,” Trudy said from the doorway.
Before Gemma could register the words, Jethro had flipped on the lamp and rolled from the bed.
Gemma sat up groggily and shuffled from under the covers. “Trudy?”
Jethro picked her up and smoothed the hair back from her head. “She’s warm.”
Gemma reached for her cardigan to wrap around her body, then hurried toward her daughter.
Trudy coughed, reared back, and threw up all over Jethro’s T-shirt. Then shestarted to cry.
Jethro patted her back and moved toward the bathroom. “It’s okay, honey,” he crooned, walking inside. Then he turned toward Gemma, the little girl held in his arms, panic in his eyes.What do Ido?he mouthed.
Gemma reached for Trudy and took her, sitting them both on the bathroom mat. She felt the girl’s head. “She does have a fever.” She touched Trudy’s cheeks. “Honey? Does your throat hurt?”
Trudy opened her eyes and nodded. “Everything hurts.”
“We need a thermometer,” Gemma said. “And some children’s aspirin.”
Trudy’s body convulsed and Gemma turned her to the toilet, where the little girl threw up again. Gemma held her hair out of the way and moved to flush the toilet, pausing to glance in the bowl. Panic stilled her hand.
“What?” Jethro asked, pulling off his demolished shirt and throwing itin the bathtub.
Gemma looked up at him. “There’s blood,” she whispered. That was bad. Nobody should vomit blood. Panic sizzled through her body and landed in her chest. “Trudy? We’re going to go see a nice doctor, okay?” She picked up her daughter and cradled her head, already moving for the bedroom. “We can find one on the way.” She kept her voice as calm as possible, but her heart was racing. She couldbarely breathe.
“Got it.” Jethro ran into the twins in the hall and explained the situation, telling them to hold tight and he’d call. Then he somehow managed to get coats and boots on them all, with Gemma still holding Trudy. Soon they were on the road, using their phones to find the closest emergency room.
Trudy threw up twice more on the way, and Gemma was grateful she’d grabbed the bathroom wastepaper basket as she’d hurried out the door.
“You’ll be okay, Trudy,” Jethro said, reaching out to rub his hand down the girl’s back. “Tellus what hurts.”
Trudy buried her head in her mother’s neck and didn’t reply. Her little body was tight with pain and her chestwas convulsing.
