Revenge Served with a Side of Rice

*** Book 9 in the Extreme Travel Series: ***

The team is sent to Laos to rescue two of their own agents. Upon arriving, they find out that a madman is trying to take over Asia, and it's up to the team to stop him, one way or another.

Excerpt

Our three-and-a-half-year-old twins both sat in the cart while I did the grocery shopping. It was early in the day and I'd taken time off to get a few things done around the house. Considering I'd been working a lot of hours, I needed the break. The kids loved it, too, even though they missed their friends at daycare.

While deciding on which spaghetti sauce to buy, I was bored, so I mentally headed on over to my husband's psychologist's office, since I was psychic. He was a licensed psychologist and had just opened his practice with four other psychologists. I mentally stood behind him to see what he saw. I did that more often than I should, just to see what he was up to and to practice bilocation, or psychically putting myself in a different location, even though my physical body was elsewhere.

Sometimes I'd hop into James' head, make some comment, and he'd laugh before I left. But today was different because I knew he'd be in session for his clients. I really didn't want to bug him or let him know I was there, since those sessions were confidential. I considered that a 'gray area' of morally legal to me, just because I had to protect James from good-looking female clients.

Since I could do it, I jumped into the client's head for a brief moment, seeing something I really didn't like. I had to explain it to James, so I jumped out of her head and into his. "James, the woman you have on your couch is a kleptomaniac," I said in my husband's head. He was concentrating on the woman lying on the couch in front of him, as well as doodling in his brain. Usually, when I entered his head, he was writing his latest book on sexual positions and marriage counseling topics to multitask. But today, it was a doodle of our children and me, at home around the dinner table. At least I was always the woman he thought about.

"Kes, why are you in my head right now?" he asked in thought.

He kept talking to his client, but I ignored it.

"You needed help. I could just…feel it."

"You're spying on me?" He took a deep breath and stared at the older woman with thick and unruly long gray hair lying on his couch. She was dressed in a flowing black dress that was almost too large for her. "Why do you think your husband is cheating on you?" he asked her.

The woman answered his question. "Well, he doesn't come home until late…"

"I'm not really spying on you," I said to James. "But she's taken your wallet and it's inside her bra."

James spoke aloud. "What?"

The woman turned to stare at James. "Do you think it's a problem that he eats when he gets home?"

"Uh, no," James said to the woman, lowering his eyes to his notes. "Darlene, why does he eat when he gets home if he tells you he gets dinner at a different place?"

I could tell James had shifted in his chair to check his pocket. "You're right," James said to me. "My wallet's gone. What am I going to do? I can't exactly reach down her dress and get it, can I?"

"You would if it were me on your couch, but you're right." I continued to stroll around the grocery store with Emma and Andrew, still seated in the cart so I could keep an eye on them.

"Mommy, can I have ice cream?" Andrew asked.

"Sure. We'll get it later. Right now, I have to deal with Daddy."

Andrew looked around the aisle. "Is Daddy here?"

"No, but I'm dealing with him."

"How?" Emma asked. "You're not on the phone."

The kid was too smart. "He told me to get a few things for him."

"Kes, I need help here," James said while I was in his head.

"Keep her in the office and I'll be there as soon as I can. I have a plan."

Andrew took out his toy water pistol and shot the fake enemies he imagined sitting on top of the carrots in the produce section.

"Andrew, no," I whispered.

He pocketed the toy gun and looked up at me with his adorable blue eyes and wavy brown hair. "But Mommy, you shoot a gun, why can't I?"

"Shhh," I whispered. "That's a secret, remember?"

"Oui," Emma said, switching to French. "We aren't to tell anyone Mommy and Daddy can shoot. It's a secret, Andrew."

My kids were definitely too smart for their own good. "Emma. Use English."

"Sure, Mummy," she said in the same slightly British accent as James. She knew better than to mock James, so I shot her a dirty look.

We went to the only empty checkout line, and as I was putting everything onto the counter, I worked out a strategy for James. What would he do without me, anyway?