Headed for Trouble - By Suzanne Brockmann Page 0,21

as a stand-in.

He came right over and gave Sam a hug, despite the high sweat and slime factor. In fact, Jules gave him a big hug. A much, much, much too long of a hug.

For once, Heather, Ashley, and Sabrina were wide-eyed and silent, staring at them, definitely wondering …

So Sam cleared his throat. “It’s good to see you,” he told Jules. Which was no lie. But when he cleared his throat again and gruffly added, “Sweetie,” it definitely boosted any potential misperceptions.

Jules laughed his ass off, of course. “Alyssa is going to love hearing about this,” he whispered as he hugged Sam again.

Yeah, she would. Provided they would ever be in the same country at the same time again.

“I was in Dubai,” Jules said, as Sam pulled two bottles of cold water from his suite’s kitchen fridge. He tossed one to Jules. “Thanks. It’s not quite the same neighborhood, but close enough. Closer than Richmond. I had some time off coming, so … Here I am.”

“Checking up on me.” Sam toasted him then took a long swig from his bottle.

“Absolutely not,” Jules said. Up close, the FBI agent looked tired. His usually bright smile even seemed a touch forced. He sank into one of the leather armchairs in the suite’s sitting area. “Your wife trusts you completely. Although, that Girls Gone Wild comment? It was probably not her most favorite thing she’s ever heard you say.”

“I was trying to get a rise out of her. And no offense,” Sam said, half-sitting on the desk where his laptop was out and open, “but I was kind of hoping she’d be the one to show.”

“She sounded pretty pissed off when I spoke to her,” Jules reported. “This guy she’s looking for? He knows she’s looking. He’s been messing with her. Playing games.”

“Thanks. I love hearing that.” Sam’s blood pressure was up so high, his ears were ringing. “Motherfucker’s a sex offender.”

“And if Alyssa were ten years old, she’d be in danger,” Jules reassured him. “She finally called in for backup, by the way. Lindsey and … damn, I’m blanking on his name … former CIA …?”

“Dave Malkoff,” Sam supplied the name of the Troubleshooters’ operative.

“That’s him.” Jules glanced at his watch. “They’re probably in Richmond with Alyssa right now, cuffing the guy.”

“Good.” Which meant Alyssa could be here by tomorrow night.

“Yeah, you’re way too happy at that news,” Jules said. “You haven’t checked your email, have you?”

Sam shifted his laptop so he could see the screen, jumped on line and … Sure enough, there was an email from Alyssa. Subject: I’m needed in San Diego. “No. No, no, no …”

He clicked on it, skimmed it. The good news was that she, Lindsey, and Dave had indeed caught the game-playing sex offender. The bad news was that their boss, Tom Paoletti, had another assignment waiting for Alyssa. Which meant it would be … What?

“She’s going OCONUS,” Sam told Jules, using the military term for outside of the United States. “Unless I can somehow get home by Friday morning, it’s going to be another two weeks—at least—before I see her.” She’d added a P.S. that Sam didn’t understand. “Tell Jules that Dave’s a maybe? What does that mean?”

Jules took another swig from his water bottle. “Don’t get too excited, because I haven’t cleared it yet with Tom. Or Max. I have to wait a few more hours before I call either of them. But if they give me the thumbs-up, I’ll be able to hang here, hold down the fort for you, until a replacement arrives. Alyssa told me she was going to ask Dave Malkoff.”

Sam shook his head. “As an FBI agent, you can’t—”

“I won’t,” Jules said. “You just told me the wedding’s not until Sunday, and the client’s gone until Thursday. Dave—or someone else—will definitely be here before then. I’m just going to hang here, pass along the message that you had to leave, that your replacement is on his way. I’m not getting paid, I’m just doing you a favor.”

It was one hell of a big-ass favor. “You don’t get much vacation time,” Sam pointed out. “Wouldn’t you rather, I don’t know, go on a cruise?”

“With who?” Jules gazed at him. “Ben?” He rolled his eyes as he shook his head. “Just take a shower, let’s go get lunch. If you really want to hear it, I’ll tell you the whole terrible Ben story. But I definitely need nourishment first.”

“He did what?” Sam said.

“Brought his beard,” Jules repeated. He leaned

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