Page 8 of Stilettos & Secrets on the 7 Seas

My stomach grumbled loudly in response. Jake ran a hand over his mouth and chin as if wiping the frustration off his face and focusing on the fact I needed food and rest for my wobbly legs.

Time travel has side effects, and he was debriefing me in the middle of the hangar. General Potts, our leader at the WTF, would disapprove.

“I know you did your best.” He put a hand on my shoulder, squeezed gently. His silentI’m sorry. “It’s just that the time portal isn’t stable. The travelers aren’t returning a few hours after jumping anymore, and I was worried you wouldn’t make it back. Go to the blue room. Get more than coffee.”

“Yes, sir.” See how compliant I can be?

* * *

I stoppedby the women’s locker room and picked up my new Tory Burch cell phone wallet. I loved the convenience of not having to carry a wristlet. It held my phone, my tube of M.A.C. Brave Red lipstick, my house key, and my only credit card not maxed out. There was also a slot for cash, but it was currently empty.

My phone had pitiful reception at Gitmo and only one percent power on the battery. I’d forgotten to charge it. I applied my lipstick, left a kiss on the mirror, and headed to my dreaded debriefing.

The blue room, the place we used to brief and debrief our travelers, held the dank, dungeon-esque scent of quarters located in the bowels of the most secure prison in the world.

As I walked in, the smell of freshly brewed coffee overshadowed the hint of dungeon. A spread of sandwiches, cheeses, crackers, and fruit covered a silver tray beside the coffee station. No donuts. Damn.

Two of my team members sat at the conference table. Caiyan’s nephew, Campy, looked up from his yellow pad and smiled wide. He had dark wavy hair, college-boy muscles, dimples that attracted girls by the truckload, and a heart as big as Texas. He hadn’t worked at the WTF long enough to lose his new-penny shine.

“Hi.” Campy leaned back and squinted his eyes at me. “You look like you lost your cat.”

“I don’t have a cat.” I loaded a plate and turned toward the table. Campy’s transporter, Fredericka, was on leave, taking care of her recently departed grandfather’s estate. In her absence, Ace filled in. He sat next to Campy, wearing a pink feather boa and frowning at my current attire, a floral shift dress and inexpensive heels.

“What’s with the outfit?” Ace pointed his pencil at me, wanding it up and down at my clothes as if he could turn them into a ball gown.

“I’m going to Uncle Durr’s wedding. It’s in Mount Vernon, at the farm.”

“That explains the shoes, hon, but what about the shower curtain you’re wearing?”

I looked down at my boxy dress. It wasn’t flattering, but it was comfortable, and it had pockets. “It has pockets.”

Ace placed a hand over his heart and gave me his most ungracious look of disapproval. “Blimey, have you learned nothing from me?”

“I think ye look pretty,” Campy interrupted before Ace began one of his fashion rants. “Did you find the eye?”

Everyone was worried Fredericka’s twin sister, Sasha, had run off with an essential pawn in our time traveler game of chess. The King’s eye was a rare pink diamond the size of my big toe. Sasha had stolen it out of her grandfather’s warm, dead hand.

I sat down across from Ace. “Sort of. We saw someone Marco thinks is Sasha.”

“And?” Campy reached across the table, stealing one of my grapes and popping it in his mouth. Marco had done the same in the Nassau tavern, and my heart squeezed.

“She left with a group of men. We couldn’t reach her in time.” I took a bite of my ham and cheese on rye and sighed. Time travel makes you hungry and tired. I was satisfying the hungry, and after my interrogation, the tired would come like a band of banshees sucking the life out of me. I’d have to push through to stay awake at the wedding.

“Why couldn’t you get to her? Didn’t Marco the Magnificent use his gift?” Ace leaned forward, one hand under his chin, the other stroking his boa. “Where is that engine-revving angel?”

“He’s, uhm, coming later. Look, if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather tell the story once.” I glanced around the room. “Where’s the rest of our team?”

Campy tapped his pencil on the yellow pad filled with notes from his mission. “Tina and Gerry returned earlier in the day. Agent McCoy debriefed them. Tina left, but Gerry’s in the travel lab. Al needed him to help watch the screens since Pickles had to leave early for a parent-teacher conference or some shite.”

Our Australian teammate, Brodie, who was also my cousin Gertie’s current boyfriend, was still recovering from a broken leg and hadn’t been released to travel. Without Caiyan and now Marco, our team felt small.

I finished my sandwich. Campy doodled around the edges of his notes on the yellow pad while Ace watched makeup tutorials on TikTok.

Gerry whipped into the room wearing a tank top, board shorts that made his legs disappear, and an unnaturally good attitude. He was four foot five inches, had thick auburn hair, and, according to Tina, housed a sea monster in his trousers.

“What’s up, friends?” He climbed into the chair beside me.

“Agent McCoy needs to get a move on. We’ve been back for over an hour.” Ace tossed the loose end of his boa over his shoulder. His ruby-red lips puckered into a protruding pout.

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