Do You Need a Doggie Bag?

*** Book 3 in the 'Extreme Travel' Series ***

To waylay Kes' fake PTSD, the CIA sends the group on a cruise to the west coast of Mexico. At a port, Kes and James buy a homeless boy a meal, endangering the entire cruise ship when the child's kidnappers want revenge. It's up to the team to keep all the passengers out of the hands of a slavery ring, while not tipping their hand that they're agents.

Excerpt

Someone was in my apartment. I knew it before I unlocked my door at the end of a long day of work. I always locked the deadbolt, and from past experience, I'd learned to wedge a small toothpick near the bottom of the door.

But now, the toothpick was gone, and the deadbolt wasn't locked.

I reached into my purse and removed my brand new gun. After easing back the bottom lock, I turned the doorknob, peeked inside, and entered the apartment, trying not to make any noise.

No one was in the main room of the huge apartment that contained my living room, dining room, and kitchen. Even though I saw no one, I kept my gun in front of me.

The toilet flushed in the bathroom, which was off the bedroom to my right. The culprit must be waiting for me, even though he or she was noisy. I removed my coat and threw it on the back of a dining room chair. No one came out of the bathroom, so I hid around the corner from the door to my bedroom and peeked around the doorjamb. It was definitely a man because it was a male voice when he began to hum.

With my gun at arm's length, I inched my way into my bedroom. A tall, blond-haired man left the bathroom. This was my chance to take the guy down.

I lifted the gun up to the side of his head. "Freeze!"

He raised his hands into the air in slow motion, but as soon as I saw the toothpick in his mouth, I knew who it was. He glanced at me and pulled his arms down with a laugh.

I lowered the gun. "Ian, what are you doing here?"

He took the gun from me. "Kes, if you're going to play agent, at least take the safety off first." He looked at the clip. "It's not even loaded. What are you doing?"

"I can't believe it." I pointed toward his mouth. "You took my toothpick."

"It was obvious it was there. You know, you need a better lock on that door. And use tape instead of a toothpick. It isn't quite as obvious." He looked down at the cast on my foot. "What are you doing without your crutches?"

My eyes darted to where the crutches were propped beside the bed. "Uh, funny thing about that."

He crossed his arms. "Go on."

"I forgot them?"

Ian was my self-imposed personal physician. He was also a CIA agent with multiple computer and medical degrees. Ever since I'd stepped in front of a truck and smashed my toes on a mission I was on for him, he decided he had to fly from Washington D.C. just to see me in Denver every week. I'd usually make an appointment and we'd meet at the hospital, but he tricked me this time.

He was good-looking, with blond hair, brown eyes, and very muscular. He was also extremely bright because he went to M.I.T. and Stanford. All the agents I'd met were muscular with a beautiful smile—very white and straight teeth.

This guy also had a huge crush on me, probably because of my green eyes and long wavy dark red hair. It was sickening, because all the agents would mention how they were in love with me at one time or another.

Ian crossed his arms and glared at me. "How did you get home?"

I could tell I wasn't going to win this one, but I had to try. "Bus?"

"I doubt it. Try again." Ian knew me too well.

"Carpool?"

From the look on his face, he wasn't buying my answers. "Kes, you drove? Don't you remember when James and I tried to see if you could drive with your left foot and you hit a mailbox, knocked over a parking meter, and smashed a policeman's motorcycle? You would've put us all in an empty swimming pool if James hadn't jumped over and slammed on the brakes."

I hung my head. I was in trouble, yet again.