Page 36 of No Time Off

Slash had already unbuckled his seat belt. “He’s right,cara. We can’t risk it. Time to play sardines.”

I got out of the car just as Rangi swung open the trunk. As I joined the men, I saw it contained a folded umbrella, some empty canvas bags, and the faint aroma of food. Likely Rangi kept his groceries in here while transporting them from the store to home.

“I’m not thrilled about this,” I said, but climbed in and made myself as small as possible to make room for Slash. It wasn’t easy, because at five foot eleven, I’m far from petite.

Slash got in next, contorting himself tightly into the cramped space. He had to fold himself uncomfortably, his body jammed against mine, his face resting against my cheek. We’d already started to sweat.

“It’s a good thing we’re married,” I joked. “Our positioning is leaving nothing to the imagination.”

“I think this brings the phraseour love is tightto a new level,” he agreed. “Is there anything in the marriage code about trunk intimacy?”

“I’d roll it into the third one—romance and intimacy.”

Before Slash could speak, Rangi spoke. “Okay, kids, looks like you’re in all the way. With a little luck, we’ll get through quickly.” He closed the trunk, and we were immediately plunged into a humid darkness.

A minute later, we felt Rangi pull back onto the road and move forward. Soon, we came to a stop but didn’t hear Rangi talking to anyone.

“There’s probably a queue,” Slash murmured against my cheek.

“Probably,” I whispered, moisture sliding down my temples.

The car inched forward on and off for a few more minutes. Finally, we heard Rangi call out in a relaxed, conversational tone. “Afternoon, Officer. Enjoying the fine weather?” His voice was light, most likely designed to put the cop at ease.

“Yes, sir. I sure am. Just doing my duty.” The officer sounded young, which could work in our favor, unless he was a stickler for the job and checked the trunk. But Rangi was keeping his focus on him.

“What duty is that, Officer?”

“Well, the prime minister has resigned, but she’s missing,” the officer replied. “We’re stopping cars, looking for her. I’m supposed to bring her in if I find her.”

“Is that so?” Rangi said, feigning surprise. “So, that’s what this roadblock is for. Hey, I don’t know if it means anything, but I just heard on the radio a caravan was spotted on the road not too far behind me. That might be her. In fact, she could be on her way to you right now. Wouldn’t that make you the hero of the day if you were the one to find her?”

“Yes, sir. It would.”

“Well, good luck to you. I sure hope it’s you who finds her. May I proceed? I don’t want to be late to work.”

There was a pause, and then the officer spoke. “Of course. You’re good to go, sir. Keep your eyes peeled, though. If you see or hear anything about the prime minister, you call it in, okay?”

“Will do. Thank you.”

We drove for a while longer before Rangi turned off the main road and then pulled over and popped the trunk. “It’s safe to come out now.”

Slash climbed out and held out a hand to help get me out. I noticed he had a black smudge on his left cheek. I reached to rub it off, but he was already moving, checking out our situation. The car was hidden from the main road by one of the numerous gardenia hedges that lined the streets. We both stretched for a minute, and I got him to hold still long enough to rub the grime off his cheek.

“You look much better now,” I said. “Suitably presentable to meet the leader, or perhaps ex-leader, of a foreign country.”

“Even if I’m sweating like a pig watching the start of a luau fire?” he quipped.

“Ha. Even then,” I assured him.

Rangi drove cautiously for about another quarter mile, eventually pulling off onto a road that turned out to be a really long driveway to a secluded white farmhouse nestled among the trees. The ground crunched loudly beneath us as we drove, the driveway made of sand and shells.

As we got closer to the farmhouse, we could see several outbuildings behind the house and distantly in the fields. There were no visible cars, and the house looked deserted. Rangi pulled up close to the house and stopped the car.

We piled out, and Rangi strode to the front door. He completed a series of knocks on the door until it finally swung open.

A man stood in the doorway holding a rifle pointed at the ground. Rangi waved us forward, and we followed him into the house and past the man with the rifle. The man closed the door behind us, then stayed by the door.

Petra stepped out from the shadows of a small side room, her face a mix of relief and exhaustion. She and Rangi exchanged glances, and then Rangi walked on toward the back of the house.

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