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say
any of us?
I'm including me. And I kind of feel as if I'm—”
    “If you're asking us to camp out here to help keep the crazies away from Robin,” Sam interrupted, “it's not exactly going to be a hardship.”
    “I already picked out our suite,” Alyssa added.
    Sam looked at her. “The one with the blue drapes?”
    She nodded. “With the extra room that could be the nursery. You see that bathroom? I think it's bigger than our kitchen.”
    “Nice shower.” He nodded.
“Very
nice shower. Although the suite on the third floor—”
    “That one's ours. And this isn't about Robin,” Jules said again, interrupting them. “He's renting this house, yes. And he'll be staying here, withme, part of this month, and possibly even longer, if the situation doesn't rectify itself and will you please let me tell you what this is about before you say
yes?”
    “I'm pretty sure that ship has sailed,” Sam pointed out.
    “What situation?” Alyssa asked, silencing her husband with an amusedly pointed look.
    “I'm just saying,” Sam said with a shrug.
    And with that, alleluia, they were now sitting there quietly, waiting for Jules to explain, finally giving him a chance to talk.
    “I've got an operative in hiding, who needs a safe house to rehab and regroup.” He chose his words carefully, because until they signed on he couldn't tell them too much. “He worked in the black ops sector of a government agency and believes that he's been marked for what he calls
deletion—
which is exactly what it sounds like. I've kept him separate from any of the official protection programs, because we haven't identified the person or persons who've tried to kill him. But we do believe that whoever they are, they have access to top secret, high-clearance-level information.”
    “Shit,” Sam covered Ash's ears to say. He glanced at Alyssa before asking Jules, “You're absolutely certain that your operative isn't, um, how do I put this? The problem?”
    “He's not, and I am,” Jules said. “Certain.”
    “Black ops create … certain pressures for operatives,” Sam pointed out. “Some agents go rogue.”
    “Oh, he's rogue, all right,” Jules said. “But not the way you mean. I trust this man. Completely.”
    “Enough to risk your career,” Alyssa said. It wasn't quite a question, but it wasn't quite not, either.
    So Jules answered as if it were. “Yes.”
    “What career?” Sam scoffed.
    “Hey,” Jules told him. “ S-squared, SpongeBob. I happen to love Boston.”
    “I can't help but notice, Toto,” Sam said, “that we're not in Boston anymore.”
    Jules sighed, exasperated. “I'm on vacation. May I please continue?”
    “There's more?”
    “Yeah,” Jules said a tad sharply. “The important part. The part where—”
    “We might find ourselves investigating corruption deep inside a government agency?” Alyssa interrupted this time. “That's basic math, Jules. I think we've already figured that out. At least I have.” She looked at her husband.
    “Durrr,” he said.
    “This could be extremely dangerous,” Jules had to tell them.
    “Eek,” Sam deadpanned.
    “You said
rehab”
Alyssa asked. “Your man's been injured?”
    He nodded. “Gunshot wound to the chest. He's gonna need a month of hard work to get back to speed. Maybe a little less because he's … who he is.”
    Alyssa glanced at Sam before asking Jules, “I assume you're going to take the utmost precautions when you move him in here.”
    “That's one of the things I was hoping you could help me with,” he told them. “My plan was to bring him in when Robin arrives tomorrow.”
    “We do this right,” Sam said, with a glance at Alyssa, “and no one will know your man is here. It'll look to the world like we're taking a high-end vacation with our fruity and very rich friends.”
    “Without Ashton?” she asked.
    “I say we bring him,” Sam said. “The alternative is to see if Mary Lou can take him, but… After seeing this place, I'm