Page 48 of Stilettos & Secrets on the 7 Seas

I looked down at my breasts. They weren’t enormous but wouldn’t be as easy to hide as Fredericka’s small handfuls. I’d posed as a Civil War soldier. Although, the thick military uniform helped hide the girls.

“Sorry, hon, she’s got you there.” Ace waved his nail file at my chest. “You’ll have a bloody hard time hiding those boobies in one of those thin linen lace-up jobbies.”

Jeez. I’d rely on my outhouse to help me transform into a boy. I’d already studied a picture on the internet of a young pirate I planned to imitate.

We waited an hour.I paced the room. Marco hadn’t returned. Fear that Fredericka was right, he wasn’t coming, settled in my gut like a truckload of tacks.

I ate five donuts.

No. Marco.

I drank more coffee.

The moon clock didn’t make a sound, but I heard the ticking of every second in my head. It matched my heartbeat. Marco wasn’t coming back, and every minute counted.

Jake entered the room. “Hello, team.” As usual, he moved to the front of the room and placed his laptop on the table. He clicked on a few keys. The world map appeared on the video screen at the front of the room. He turned and looked at us. “Where are Gerry and Tina?”

“Small mishap with a pencil,” I explained. “They’ve gone to the infirmary.”

“Hope they get done quickly. The Cracky clan jumped, and General Potts wants Tina to accompany Gerry.”

Dammit. One less transporter on base. “Why?” My heart rate escalated with my impatience.

“Pickles predicted they might have a passenger to bring home. The general wants Tina on site. I’ll catch up with them later.” Jake turned to me. “No surprise, Marco didn’t return. And, as predicted, Mortas jumped to Nassau, 1718.”

“I can handle it.” Fredericka spouted off before I voiced my confidence in taking on the mission.

“I was going to send—” Jake stopped at the sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Everyone turned toward the door. General Potts entered, followed by four armed guards. These weren’t the men in suits who worked with Jake. These guys were muscled-up, military-grade, raw meat-eating, ex-guerilla-warfare Gitmo guards.

Jake shot to his feet. “General, what’s going on?”

“At ease, agent.” He motioned for Jake to step aside. Jake took a step back.

The general, a sturdy man with broad shoulders and short military-cut steel gray hair, strode to the front of the room. He cleared his throat, which I’d learned over the years was his tell. His constant throat clearing before he barked orders made me think a hostile takeover was imminent.

“I’m here about the Nassau jump. It has come to my attention that we already have a defender in the field. I’m ordering you three to remain on base.”

“Stay on base?” My chair scraped, nails on chalkboard, against the tile floor as I sprang to my feet and snapped hands on hips. “We don’t have a defender in the field. Marco hasn’t returned. He’s in trouble. One of us should be allowed to go help him.”

And by one of us, I meant me.

“Miss Cloud, I’m aware of all your shenanigans and the fact that you rarely follow orders. I’m taking precautions to prohibit your interference in this mission. You and your consorts.”

“Precautions?” Jake asked before I could, his tone unsteady. “What precautions?”

“Arrest them.” The general pointed at the three of us.

Fredericka bolted to her feet. “What is the meaning of this?”

“I have a defender in the field. One that doesn’t need you transporters messing it up.” The general did more throat-clearing. “You’ll be held under guard until this moon cycle has completed.”

The guards moved around the table, pointing their guns. Jake looked as dumbfounded as the rest of us.

“You don’t understand.” I moved toward the general. His pot belly put a barrier between us. “Marco is going to be hanged and gibbeted if I don’t go back and help him.”

“Mr. Ferrari signed the contract. Putting one’s life on the line to serve our beloved country is part of the job.”

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