Page 58 of No Time Off

“Go on, Lexi, off with you now,” Paul said. “And try not to trip and fall. Your husband warned us about you.”

My mouth dropped open. “My husband did what?”

“He urged us to keep a close eye on you because sometimes unexpected things happen around you.”

“Wait. He told that to how many people?”

Paul considered. “Everyone, I think. I’m sure he was just trying to look out for you, love. Well, and maybe for us, too. I think he used the wordaccident-prone, and we all got the message.” He chuckled, and the other policeman also wore a broad smile.

I narrowed my eyes. I was definitely going to have to talk with Slash when I saw him again. For now, I tried to balance the bags evenly over each of my shoulders. The skiff pulled up close to the beach, but the water was so shallow I was going to have to wade a couple of steps to the boat. While I paused to consider this challenge, Paul swooped in and picked me up from behind. Before I had time to do more than squawk, he took two quick steps into the water and set me down in the boat.

“Hey, I could have done that on my own,” I complained. “I’m not afraid of getting my feet wet.”

“Wasn’t as worried about you, Lexi, but I intended to keep those bags of yours safe, just in case you took a spill.”

Oh, yes. Slash and I were going to talk.

When we finally got to the yacht and I climbed aboard, they led me into the small main cabin. Though compact, the yacht was polished and luxurious: warm wood paneling, plush seating, and a table that could seat four comfortably. Stairs led down in the back of the cabin to what I suspected was a galley stocked with supplies. The curtains were drawn tight, and there were only a couple of small lights turned on. I could hear a thrumming sound coming from below.

The prime minister and her husband, Henry, were sitting on a bench seat under the curtained window with their kids on either side. Henry rose in concern when he saw me.

“We’re so sorry for dragging you into this nightmare, Lexi,” he said. “I understand you were shot at. Are you okay? Do you need to clean up?”

I wasn’t remotely okay, but I couldn’t blame him or the prime minister. All of this was out of their control, obviously.

I reached up to touch my hair and realized my hands and arms were covered with mud. There were sticks and leaves in my hair, and it felt like I’d blow-dried it straight up and sprayed it with glue. My shirt, jeans, and shoes were covered in mud spatter. I had no idea how my face looked, but from the way people were staring at me, it wasn’t good. I probably smelled, too.

Petra handed me a towel. “The bathroom is that way.”

“Thanks.” Resigned, I put my bags on a chair, took the towel, and went to clean up in the tiny bathroom. A glance in the mirror indicated I looked remarkably similar to a cartoon cat who had just climbed out of a pigsty and saw a ghost. My hair stuck out in several places. Mud and grime streaked across my cheeks and forehead. There were strange dirt balls in my hair, and a piece of a vine hung off my left ear. My eyes were like two white pinballs in a face that was hardly recognizable, even to myself.

I turned on the water and washed and scrubbed at my face, arms, and hands until the brown water finally turned clear and my face was pink from all the scrubbing. The towel was a complete loss, so I tossed it in the bottom of the shower stall so as not to track any more dirt around. I did my best to remove the sticks and leaves and wound my hair back into a ponytail. There wasn’t much more I could do short of a full shower, and there was no time for that now.

I returned to the main room, where everyone was waiting.

The prime minister sat calmly, but I could see how deeply the morning’s ordeal had shaken her.

Henry reached into a small mini fridge, pulling out bottles of water and handing them to us. I screwed off the top and took a long drink.

“How are you guys holding up?” I asked them.

Petra glanced worriedly at the kids. “We’re…ah, holding up. Where’s Slash and Manny?”

My stomach twisted again, but I didn’t want to worry anyone regarding what was going on with them yet. I decided to keep it simple until the children weren’t present and I could talk to Manny to get the full story.

“They went to the compound this morning to plant the recording devices. I texted Manny that the farmhouse was compromised. Hopefully, he’ll text me when he’s able.”

Thankfully, no more questions came my way. I felt nauseous, so I took another long drink of water before setting the bottle aside. I dragged my laptop bag onto the table and pulled out my laptop and cord, looking for a place to plug it in. When I found one, I was grateful the outlet on the yacht worked. The thrumming must be the generator.

I needed to plan my next move. If Slash had been captured, I had to figure out what to do about that. But I needed more information from Manny, and he was likely on the run and not able to respond to my texts. I put my phone on the table and plugged it in, too, listening to the open phone line with Slash. Still nothing. Wherever Slash had planted his phone, he wasn’t with it now.

There was nothing I could do on that front for the moment, so I needed to check in with Xavier and Elvis to let them know I was okay after we’d terminated contact so abruptly. They were likely going crazy.

“Is there any chance this boat has Wi-Fi?” I asked. “I can’t use my phone as a hotspot because I’m monitoring communications with Slash and Manny.” I avoided mentioning my phone was my last link to Slash.

“I think I saw a small sign with a password by the TV in the big bedroom,” Lani said. “Let me go see.” She darted down the stairs and came back seconds later with the paper in hand.

Indeed, it had the Wi-Fi and password listed. I just hoped it ran when the generator was operating. It didn’t take long to confirm it was indeed operational.

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