Page 139 of Jonesing for a Spy

I’m sliding past him when a hand comes to my chest. “Wait.”

I look down at it, assuming the same posture he did outside Mona’s a couple of days ago.

He removes his hand and extends it my way. “Thank you.”

I accept it—and the peace he offers. “No thanks needed.”

“That’s not true.” He shakes his head. “Appreciate you reminding me.”

I nod and head through the door and down the hall.

June is on the phone and extends a finger in a one-minute gesture. It takes a little longer than that, but she hangs up and uses a hand to show a huge bag on the seat next to her.

“I’m glad we grabbed the rental car on the way over.”

And checked out of the hotel rooms, I don’t add. That place was a bed bug convention waiting to happen. I shiver just thinking about it.

“While y’all did registration stuff, I ran to grab dinner for us. Some stuff’s gotten cold, but⁠—”

My stomach growls at the mere mention of food and cuts off her train of thought. I grabbed an apple and a bag of Cheez-its at the airport as Jamie and I were making the dash for our flight. I ate both before dawn. Why I thought today was an in-and-out type of affair where we’d be home by dinner exposes my naiveté.

“I can’t.” I can. I should. I won’t… because Mirren is in the same boat and since they can’t prep her for surgery if she doesn’t keep an empty stomach, it would be rude to eat. But my empty stomach gnaws on itself as the acid churns with nothing to do. “Okay, but just a couple of bites.”

Plopping down in the chair next to June, she extends two brown-wrapped parcels. “Pulled pork or chicken soft tacos.”

I groan and grab the sandwich. I’m three huge bites in when I come up for air. A bottle of water sits on my arm rest and four different kinds of chips dangle between her fingers. Without thinking, I grab the sour cream and onion and rip into the bag.

“Mirren and Jamie probably trained for this, but it’s been nearly twenty-four hours for me.”

June’s smile is warm and maternal. “Hunger can’t be trained into submission. Mind over matter is one thing, but biology is still biology.”

Glugging through half the bottle of water, I finally pause. Just a couple of bites became the whole over-sized thing, down to every sesame seed from the bun left in the wrapper. Add to that a bag of chips, and I’m stuffed even though my mind isn’t sated.

“I’ve been thinking about something, and it’s going to sound odd, but I want to ask anyway…” My rambling pairs with the posture of a much younger man. “If you were a”—I look around as if we could be overheard—“spy, and so was Harry. Did you ever tell your families? And when you stopped, did everything go back to how it was before?”

June has a long blink. “No one asks. Of course, no one knows to ask. My sister knew. She knows, I should say. She’s in Atlanta, and I’ve kept a good relationship with her. The kids know her and her children. I cut out my parents, mostly because I didn’t have the heart to lie to them and I knew they would worry. I couldn’t live with myself if they’d been targeted because of me. Perry— I mean Harry told his and was always worried about that. They died in a freak accident in Europe about ten years ago. He regrets not having more time with them. Of course, at that point, we still had two teenagers in the house. We’ve always decided to prioritize our family’s safety over everything.”

“Except suicide vests and exploding substations?” I ask cautiously.

A grin plays on her lips. “Well, there’s got to be a little excitement in our lives,” she snarks.

I pause but continue anyway. “You said Perry?”

“I suspect you’re putting together pieces we never planned to share. Harry and June Jones are aliases. Perry and Jen died to have the life we now live.”

Perry and Jen.

“Have you not noticed the names we gave our kids?” She studies me.

“Zipper, Scooter, Wiggle?”

Her lips tip up in a genuine smile. “That’s all my husband. It was a thing, and I allowed it. I love it now, but there was a time it annoyed the piss out of me.”

“Really?”

“Living off the radar while having a real life means hiding in plain sight. There’s a reason we took Jones as a surname instead of Perry’s. There’s a reason our kids have common first names. It’s much harder to find Charles or Michael or David Smith than it is to find Jennifer Latoilais.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Jen. I hope you don’t mind that I call you June. Or maybe you need a nickname like all the other Joneses?”