Headed for Trouble - By Suzanne Brockmann Page 0,87

stop to puke, and someone thinks you’re vulnerable—which you will be, because, hello, you’re puking—and they mug you?”

“That’ll be their mistake,” Sam said.

“Not if they catch you off-guard and knock you unconscious.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Your eyes are closed right now,” Robin pointed out.

Sam opened them and looked at him. “Because I’m pretty sure you’re not going to jump me.”

Somewhere, in some far corner of the city, a siren started to wail.

“What is that?” Robin asked, but Sam shook his head. Fortunately it wasn’t close enough to wake Gina, Emma, or the boys.

“Maybe a fire alarm?” Robin suggested.

“Could be,” Sam agreed, but he didn’t look or sound convinced. “Grab my phone, will you? It should be done charging by now.”

Robin went out to where Sam’s phone was plugged into an adapter that was plugged into the outlet in the wall. It was only slightly charged, but he brought it in to Sam anyway.

“Fucking brownout slows everything down,” Sam muttered as he straightened up and took it, flipping over to his messages—of which there were apparently none. “Shit, I got no bars, to boot.” He tried making a call anyway, but gave up to again grip the sink when it didn’t go through. The distant sirens had stopped, which was good. Wasn’t it?

“Fahhhk,” Sam breathed as Robin returned from plugging the phone back into the charger. “How could there be anything left in my stomach?”

It was a rhetorical question, not meant to be answered. Still … “Don’t fight it,” Robin advised.

Sam shook his head. “See if your phone has service,” he ordered from between clenched teeth.

“While I do that,” Robin said, “you see if it helps to just let go.”

To his credit, Sam nodded and growled, “Close the fucking door.”

Robin did as he took out his phone and simultaneously checked on the babies, who were no doubt dreaming they were back in the womb—it was that hot and humid in the hotel room.

His phone was useless, no service, no Internet. He tried making a call anyway—to Jules—but it beeped three times and went dark. Of course, that could’ve been Jules’s inability to get a connection wherever he was, so Robin called what he thought of as the Troubleshooters Incorporated hotline. Day or night, it would connect him to whoever was on call at the office where Sam and Alyssa worked. But it, too, beeped and denied.

Robin tried texting Jules. Now Sam’s got the flu, too. Is there anyone local to provide assist? Maybe upgrade us to guest quarters in a private residence? Wishful thinking on my part? Be safe. We’re ok. Love you.

He pushed send, and the message vanished, but his phone didn’t make that satisfying swooshing sound that meant the text had gone through.

In the bathroom, the dying ogre sounds finally stopped and the toilet flushed.

Then Sam was back to running the water in the sink. Still, Robin knocked softly as he opened the bathroom door.

Sam glanced up. He looked like crap, and now his hands were shaking as he toweled off his face, but he said, “That helped.”

Robin bit back the bullshit, and instead said, “I wish we could go back in time, and stop ourselves from getting on that flight. We’d already be in London.”

Where the concierge knew him by name, thanks to his fame.

What else can I get for you, Mr. Chadwick Cassidy? How else can I help you, Mr. Chadwick Cassidy? Is there anything else you need, Mr. Chadwick Cassidy?

Most of the time, the endless fawning and relentless toadying completely wore Robin out. Right about now, though, he’d welcome it with open arms.

“We’ve been in far more uncomfortable spots,” Sam pointed out.

Just a few weeks ago, Jules, Robin, Sam, Alyssa, and Ash had all been together in New York City, where a notorious serial killer nicknamed “the Dentist” had come dangerously close to killing both Jules and Alyssa.

Jules had survived by luck and his own quick thinking, while Sam had saved Alyssa’s life by blasting a hole in the wall of a creepy old town house, and then caving in the killer’s head with a pickax.

Which no doubt still gave him nightmares.

Or … maybe not.

Still, Sam was right. That entire experience had been far more uncomfortable than this one.

“Continuing to look on the bright side,” Robin said now, “we haven’t exactly had time to worry about Jules and Alyssa, have we?”

Sam made a vaguely laughter-like sound. “Good point.”

Robin returned to troubleshooting their current problem. “We could wake up Gina, have her watch Ash and Mikey,” he said. “Fetch