“When we were kids, my mom made us do that. It was weird?—”
“But it works.” Brit added salt to a glass, mixed in warm water, and gargled.
When she finished, he asked if she felt better.
“Maybe a little.”
They got back in bed.
Within a couple of minutes, she was sleeping.
He promised Z nothing would happen to her. Even he didn’t have that kind of control.
As his eyes fluttered closed, he vowed that he would keep her safe.
Always.
He awoketo the winter sun brightening the room. It was ten after eight, and no Brit. Into the bathroom he steamrolled. Minutes later, he dressed in black pants and a blue button-down, then pulled a tie from the rack. They’d need to be out the door by ten to make it to Acorn Boarding School by twelve-thirty.
He grabbed his ALPHA FBI ID that bore the name Bob Jones, along with the appropriate badge. When he entered the main room, Brit was on the phone.
“Thank you.” She hung up, went to the sink, made the salt water mix, and started gargling.
He pulled up alongside her and gently caressed her back. She spit, then said, “Going to doc,” and continued gargling. When finished, she said, “My throat is on fire.”
He felt her forehead. “You feel warm, but maybe you run hot.”
“Muy caliente, señor.”
“I can go to our meeting without you,” he said.
“No, I just need to get dressed, then I’m outta here. My doc has a nurse practitioner who’ll check me.”
He flipped on his phone’s flashlight. “Open your mouth.”
“No—”
“Open, woman.”
She made an adorable face, then opened.
“Say, ah,”
She did.
“You got strep.”
He turned off the flashlight, pocketed his phone.
“I do not.”
“One of my nephews got it. The inside of his throat looked just like that.”
“I’m sorry in advance if I got you sick.” She took off down the hall.
“Where’s your doc located?”
“Arlington. I’ll be back in time.”
