Revenge Served with a Side of Rice

By Andie Alexander

The team is sent to Laos to rescue two of their own agents. Upon arriving, they find out that a madman is trying to take over Asia, and it’s up to the team to stop him, one way or another.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Andie Alexander
• Release date: Aug 27, 2019
• ISBN: 9781938350467

Andie Alexander

Andie writes mysteries and adventures, and also writes as all the author names on SweetTaleBooks.com. Writing is escapism, at its finest.See more at http://www.AndieAlexander.com

Book preview

Notes

When reading psychic discussions, be aware that the font has been changed to be bold and italic. For incognito listening through psychic means, the font is just bold.

Also, one of the letters in the name of a town in Vietnam, Đak Tô, isn't recognized by the software used to make the e-book. The letter has been changed to 'a' instead of the 'a' with markings on the top (a short vowel sound sign and an accent above it). The capital D was fine, and will remain as it should be, with a line through it.

~~~~~

Dedication

To fellow travelers who are willing to make sacrifices to absorb the culture.

It's an adventure like no other.

~~~~~

Chapter 1

Our three-and-a-half-year-old twins both sat in the cart while I did the grocery shopping. It was early in the day and I'd taken time off to get a few things done around the house. Considering I'd been working a lot of hours, I needed the break. The kids loved it, too, even though they missed their friends at daycare.

While deciding on which spaghetti sauce to buy, I was bored, so I mentally headed on over to my husband's psychologist's office, since I was psychic. He was a licensed psychologist and had just opened his practice with four other psychologists. I mentally stood behind him to see what he saw. I did that more often than I should, just to see what he was up to and to practice bilocation, or psychically putting myself in a different location, even though my physical body was elsewhere.

Sometimes I'd hop into James' head, make some comment, and he'd laugh before I left. But today was different because I knew he'd be in session for his clients. I really didn't want to bug him or let him know I was there, since those sessions were confidential. I considered that a 'gray area' of morally legal to me, just because I had to protect James from good-looking female clients.

Since I could do it, I jumped into the client's head for a brief moment, seeing something I really didn't like. I had to explain it to James, so I jumped out of her head and into his. James, the woman you have on your couch is a kleptomaniac, I said in my husband's head. He was concentrating on the woman lying on the couch in front of him, as well as doodling in his brain. Usually, when I entered his head, he was writing his latest book on sexual positions and marriage counseling topics to multitask. But today, it was a doodle of our children and me, at home around the dinner table. At least I was always the woman he thought about.

Kes, why are you in my head right now? he asked in thought.

He kept talking to his client, but I ignored it.

You needed help. I could just…feel it.

You're spying on me? He took a deep breath and stared at the older woman with thick and unruly long gray hair lying on his couch. She was dressed in a flowing black dress that was almost too large for her. Why do you think your husband is cheating on you? he asked her.

The woman answered his question. Well, he doesn't come home until late…

I'm not really spying on you, I said to James. But she's taken your wallet and it's inside her bra.

James spoke aloud. What?

The woman turned to stare at James. Do you think it's a problem that he eats when he gets home?

Uh, no, James said to the woman, lowering his eyes to his notes. Darlene, why does he eat when he gets home if he tells you he gets dinner at a different place?

I could tell James had shifted in his chair to check his pocket. You're right, James said to me. My wallet's gone. What am I going to do? I can't exactly reach down her dress and get it, can I?

You would if it were me on your couch, but you're right. I continued to stroll around the grocery store with Emma and Andrew, still seated in the cart so I could keep an eye on them.

Mommy, can I have ice cream? Andrew asked.

Sure. We'll get it later. Right now, I have to deal with Daddy.

Andrew looked around the aisle. Is Daddy here?

No, but I'm dealing with him.

How? Emma asked. You're not on the phone.

The kid was too smart. He told me to get a few things for him.

Kes, I need help here, James said while I was in his head.

Keep her in the office and I'll be there as soon as I can. I have a plan.

Andrew took out his toy water pistol and shot the fake enemies he imagined sitting on top of the carrots in the produce section.

Andrew, no, I whispered.

He pocketed the toy gun and looked up at me with his adorable blue eyes and wavy brown hair. But Mommy, you shoot a gun, why can't I?

Shhh, I whispered. That's a secret, remember?

"Oui, Emma said, switching to French. We aren't to tell anyone Mommy and Daddy can shoot. It's a secret, Andrew."

My kids were definitely too smart for their own good. Emma. Use English.

Sure, Mummy, she said in the same slightly British accent as James. She knew better than to mock James, so I shot her a dirty look.

We went to the only empty checkout line, and as I was putting everything onto the counter, I worked out a strategy for James. What would he do without me, anyway?

My life was interesting all right. James and I were CIA agents for fun. Because he owned the local newspaper and a travel agency as well as the psychologist's office, we were independently wealthy. James was always looking for a way to make a buck, especially after getting his Ph.D. in psychology. He'd even published a few books with our friend, CIA agent Ben.

Ben was model adorable with blond hair and blue eyes, had a Ph.D. in cultural anthropology, and was in love with me, even though he was married to my best friend, Anita. Thus, all the books Ben and James had written were about me. They wrote about how I could distract from the main mission on CIA excursions, how to not control spouses, how to flirt—using me as an example—and now, how to have hot sex. My entire life was on a bookshelf, even though some of it was for CIA eyes only.

I watched my two adorable—yet ornery—children grab candy from the checkout and put it on the conveyor belt. If it were just one or two pieces, that would be fine. But no. It was more than one entire box. I grabbed four of the boxes full of candy and put them back on the rack. When I glanced at the grocery bags, I realized the woman had already rung up three other boxes full of some sort of awful-tasting sour licorice.

Miss, I don't want that candy, I told the clerk. She was about 16 and a trainee. Trainees were tough to handle.

I have to call a manager. The young thing, with a silver earring in her nose and a black one in her eyebrow, turned back toward customer service and put her hands around her mouth, as if she were going to yell. I need help, she hollered.

Lucky us.

She turned to me and tried to smile. They'll be right here. The chewing gum in her mouth was bright red, and as she chewed, I could see a huge silver hoop earring in her tongue. How could someone eat or even chew gum with that thing in there?

They'll be right here, she said.

I glanced at my watch then looked up at her again. I don't have a lot of time. Just leave it and we'll give it out for Halloween.

Halloween's in October—this is the middle of March, the woman said. Also, she said in a quiet tone. This is like the worst-tasting candy e-ver. She rolled her eyes for effect. "I was told to get someone to buy it because it's been on our shelves for about a year and no one will buy it."

Good. Then maybe the trick-or-treaters won't come back to our house next year. I was such a people person.

She continued ringing up the rest of the groceries, and after paying the bill, my two monsters and I ran to the car. I shoved the bags into the back of the SUV and the kids into their car seats, then had a nice chat with them on the way to James' office.

I kept glancing at them in the rearview mirror. Now, do as Mommy said. It's like a game we're going to play. Got it?

Sure, Mommy, Emma said with a grin. I like this kind of game.

I bet she did. We were going to use distraction to get James' wallet back for him and Emma was more of an actress than I was.

I removed my cell phone from my purse and made a call to my good buddy Dennis with the Denver Police. After convincing him that I needed help and he actually needed to do his job, he seemed to agree. Yes, sir, I said. Just meet me at James' office. I promise it'll be worth missing the donuts at the station. I thought for a moment. I'll even buy you a donut at the coffee shop behind James' psychologist's office.

Kes, don't only the crazy patients go there? he asked.

The travel agency people go there, too. They were really our buddies from the CIA office, which was connected to the travel agency and a front for their real jobs.

"They're all crazy, Dennis said. I rest my case."

Fine. I'll send you a dozen donuts if you meet me at his office. Just play along, got it?

Sure, Kes. Anything for you. You've helped me more times than I can count.

At least he trusted me. That's right and I'll keep helping you. Trust me on this one.

We said goodbye and I pulled into the parking lot for James' office. James, I said in his head. I'm in the parking lot. I'm waiting for Dennis.

Tell me about your childhood, he said to the woman.

I laughed aloud. I hated that question and he knew it.

Kes, stop laughing or I'll lose it, he warned. We'll just wait for you.

The woman answered him, so I got out of his head, laughing even harder. She'd been describing how her dolls would come to life and make fun of her as a child. What a weirdo.

I grabbed my cell phone again and called a local bakery, sending two dozen donuts to the Denver police station, doubling my original promise. I was feeling nice for a change, and tempted to send the awful-tasting candy in the trunk to them as well.

Dennis' car came rumbling around the corner with his lights flashing. I got Emma and Andrew out of our SUV and met him just as he parked and got out of the car.

Andrew pointed to the police car, staring at the thing with big eyes. Can I ride in that car? He almost seemed hopeful.

Sure, Dennis said. If I ever have to arrest you. Andrew hid behind me in fear. I didn't have time for this, so I took both of my children's hands and headed toward the building.

What's this about? Dennis asked me.

A kleptomaniac, I whispered, opening the outer door. Just play along and I'll prove it to you. The donuts will be in your office in less than an hour, so let's make this snappy.

Thanks. What do you want me to do?

I sighed. Men were so literal and could never just go with the flow. You pulled me over and I don't have my driver's license. I let go of Emma's hand and grabbed my license from my purse.

Dennis pointed to my palm. But you have it in your hand.

Ugh. Men. Play along. I don't have it and I'm going to get it. Just watch, Dennis. I'm not known for distraction for nothing.

He tilted his head in question. What do you really do for a living?

You'll never know.

Government? FBI?

I'll never answer you directly. Our jobs were a secret and even though I did work for the FBI and the Denver police on the side, my true love was still going on missions for the CIA.

Right. He opened the inner door for all of us. But you've been trained by pros.

I said nothing but shot him a nonchalant look as we approached James' secretary, Wilma. I didn't like her because she was such a stickler for the rules.

Where's James? I asked the large woman.

She stuck her nose into the air. Dr. Hamilton is in a meeting with a client. You can't go in there. She even darted her eyes toward the office. She probably didn't even know she'd done it, but now I knew exactly where he sat.

Yes, I can, I argued, walking past her.

She put her arm out and tried to stop the four of us. No, you can't. It's against the law to walk into a counseling session.

I pointed to Dennis. Not when I'm in trouble.

He got the message and took my arm. Miss, are you sure your license is in there?

Yes, officer. Just let me get it and we'll be gone.

As I pushed past Wilma, Emma stuck out her tongue at the witch. I ignored it because the old battle-axe deserved it.

What kind of mother was I allowing that to happen? I ignored my inner morality monologue that all moms seemed to have and concentrated on the mission at hand.

The four of us headed down the hall to James' office at the end. I turned the doorknob and threw the door open.

James, I need help, I said.

The woman on the couch sat up and stared at the four of us.

As planned, Emma and Andrew ran to her and climbed up on her lap.

Wilma, the battle-axe from the front desk, appeared at the door and addressed James. I'm sorry, sir, but they got past me.

No problem. I'll take care of this. James turned toward me with angry eyes. Kes, I'm with a client. What are you doing? Wilma left the office and closed the door behind us.

I shot him a sad, innocent look. I'm so sorry, but I left my driver's license in your wallet. Can you get it for the nice officer here? I pointed at Dennis, giving James a male visual indicator, or MVI. I would give men visual clues to explain what I was talking about, just so they'd get it. Sometimes, it really helped.

James lifted one eyebrow, seemingly amused. He knew all about my MVIs, after I'd talked in my sleep on a mission.

We stepped further into the office and I watched Emma and Andrew out of the corner of my eye.

Emma had climbed up onto the woman's lap and moved close to her face. Do you have kids? Emma asked her.

Andrew pulled out his water gun and pointed it at the woman. Bang, bang. At least he didn't pull the trigger and get her all wet.

I don't think I have your driver's license, James said to me. I wish you'd keep your things with you. He turned to his client. I'm so sorry. Family emergency and it won't take more than a minute. I'll make it up to you.

Dennis addressed me. Ma'am, does he have your license? He nodded toward James.

I glanced over at my kids again. Andrew pulled the trigger and the water splashed all over the woman's face.

You little… she screamed, wiping her face and dress.

Emma hugged her and put her hand down the woman's dress. She pulled out the wallet and opened it up. Daddy. Did you put your wallet down this lady's dress? This is your picture.

I almost lost it. I turned and hid my mouth so I wouldn't laugh. I should've gotten upset and blamed James for putting the thing down the woman's dress, but I'd laugh if I said anything.

James walked over to our daughter. My wallet? He felt his back pocket. That's my wallet. How did you get it? He took it from Emma, still seated on the woman's lap.

Well… Just as the woman wiped the water from her face, Andrew shot her again.

I forced myself not to laugh. Andrew, I said. Put the gun away.

Did she steal your wallet? Dennis asked James.

I grabbed the wallet from his hand and acted like I was going through it. I took my license from my palm and produced it for Dennis. Officer, here's my license.

He glanced at it. Fine. It was just a routine stop anyway. I'm more interested in talking to your client here, Dr…

Hamilton. James crossed his arms and stared at the woman. I'm interested too. When my client came in here, she hugged me. Little did I know I was being pickpocketed.

Ma'am, Dennis said to the woman in the oversized black dress. If I didn't see it with my own eyes, I wouldn't believe it. I'm afraid I have to search you. I now have probable cause.

What? The woman stood up. Emma fell to the floor and burst out into sobs. You deserve it, you little brat, the woman said, looking down at my daughter. Without you, I'd have… She stopped talking while Emma cried. I reached down and lifted my daughter, cradling her in my arms.

Are you okay? I whispered to Emma.

She moved up to my ear. I'm acting. I'm fine but don't interrupt me. She wailed out more sobs. What a natural. I just hugged her tighter, trying not to laugh.

You'd have what? James asked the woman, his hands moving to his hips. Stolen more than my wallet and my credit cards? What else did you steal from me? You know this isn't right.

He was so sexy when he was angry. That British accent did wonders for my libido, too, and I couldn't contain my smile. He glanced over at me, raising his eyebrow in his defense. I knew what that meant—it'd be a long night of playing games and doing more research for his sexual positions book. Oh, the joys of being married to a sex fiend. I was tempted to hop into his head and give him a few thoughts for his book.

Dennis made the woman stand up against the wall and then frisked her.

Are you okay now? I asked Emma who was still crying.

She rolled her eyes at me and reached out for James. He took her from me and kissed her forehead. She hid her head in his chest and seemed to calm down. I took Andrew's hand and we all watched as Dennis emptied the woman's pockets.

My nameplate? James asked as Dennis laid it on the desk and went back for more. My car keys? Dennis handed them to James, who just shook his head.

"A banana? I exclaimed as Dennis laid it in the basket of fruit on James' desk. He always had fruit on the desk in case a client needed a quick fix. What are you thinking? I said to the woman. You didn't even have to steal that. It was free."

I have this all on tape, if you need it, James said to Dennis in a low tone. We keep video of everything for protection of both the clients and psychologists.

Good to know, Dennis said. I'll take a look at it later.

Just ask Wilma at the desk. She can give you any tape you need. We keep it all in a vault.

Dennis continued to take James' cell phone, pens, and various pictures he had on his desk from the woman's pocket. He slapped cuffs on the woman and turned her around in anger. Lady, you're under arrest and you're coming with me. If it wouldn't have been for a routine traffic stop, you'd have gotten away with it. Wait till my boss hears about this one. He grabbed her arm and opened the door, dragging her along. Before he left, he turned and winked at me. Good day. As he walked down the hallway, I heard him state the Miranda rights to the woman.

Once they were gone, James put Emma down and closed the door. He pulled me to him and gave me a huge kiss, the kind where I couldn't stand afterward.

Thank you, sweetheart, he whispered. You saved me from having to find those things.

Yeah, that name plate and banana were very important.

He laughed at me. And thanks for the MVI. I wouldn't have known that was the cop you were referring to. He chuckled and captured my lips once again, wrapping his arms around me.

Ewww. Andrew said with his gun pointed at us. I think y'all need to go to lockup for that kissin' stuff."

Where did he learn to talk like that? James asked, backing away from me.

TV. I took the gun from him and put it in my purse. I think we're hunting for different shows for him. Cartoons are putting things into his head and giving him a southern accent. The thought made me bite my lips, because he was watching the shows I watched, which were murder mysteries and old westerns. I definitely wasn't watching cartoons, even though the kids would change the channel if I wasn't watching.

James' cell phone rang. He glanced at the thing with a sigh. Wilson.

Uh-oh. I hated the thought.

Wilson was our big CIA boss in Washington, D.C. No one knew if that was his real name, but he was on my 'do not contact' list at the moment.

My husband put the phone to his ear. Hello, this is James. He was so hot. With that accent and his good looks of brown hair and light blue eyes, I realized we hadn't had much time together recently. I winked at him and blew him a kiss. He just smiled, moved behind his desk, and sat down.

I watched my kids. Emma had his wallet, taking everything out of it. I sat beside her on the couch, feeling like I was looking at myself. With her red hair and green eyes, we were so much alike, even down to our personalities.

Are you sure you're okay now? I asked. You really fell.

Sure, Mommy, she said with a grin. I was acting and rolled to the floor like that on purpose to make it look bad. It makes me laugh to do that.

Acting? Do you even know what that is?

Yep. She studied the credit cards in her hand. Patrick told me you do it all the time for your job with his daddy. We asked Miss Maria how to do it and she taught us a lot. We're even going to put on a play someday.

Patrick was the two-and-a-half-year-old brilliant offspring of Ian and Donna. Ian was the highest-ranking CIA agent in our group in Denver. He was a surgeon with degrees in computer science as well, which was an odd combination. He loved needles, so I nicknamed him Dr. Needles. Donna, his wife, was an ex-cop for the city of Denver but wanted something less stressful. She was in charge of our travel agency and had just had their second child, a girl named Alyssa, about a month earlier. Ian couldn't be happier it was a girl, hoping she'd be more like Donna. Patrick was so bright, he was reading Ian's textbooks, which bugged Ian. Considering the kid could beat Ian at chess, it was a struggle for the guy to keep up. I kept having to remind myself that the kid wasn't even three yet, because he was like a little sponge for information and learning.

Also, even though he was married, Ian still had a thing for me, but I kept him at bay.

I had to answer Emma. Patrick's close to being right, but I do other things, too. The kid was very close. I did a lot of distraction work for Team Kes, distracting while the other guys did the real mission behind the scenes. The work I did required a lot of acting and even over-acting to divert someone's attention from the real mission.

Emma had taken everything out of James' wallet, so I helped her put it back in so James would be able to function.

That's right, sir, James said, still on the phone. His eyes were lowered to the desk, and I was sure I wasn't going to like what he had to tell me. Yes, sir, I understand. He looked up at me. Yes, she's here with me and we'll get everything ready.

He ended his call and ran his hand through his hair—one of his tells that indicated the spousal part. He was so easy to read. That was Wilson, he said, repeating himself.

Yep. I hated the thought.

He needs us for a mission in Laos. He stood up and sat beside Emma and me on the couch.

I kept working on James' wallet. I already told him I'm more useful at home. I couldn't use the broken arm excuse from the last mission, since it'd been about five months since we'd been home. It'd healed in about four weeks, so my excuses were getting weaker. Even Ben's gunshot wound to his shoulder had healed.

James sighed and rolled his eyes. Since Wilson thinks I'm the boss in our household, he wants me to talk you into going. He was right, which was surprising. I was the boss behind the scenes, but made everyone think he took that role. I wanted James to think that, too.

He continued. I also need another article for Extreme Travel, so it'll work out just fine.

That was just rotten luck. Extreme Travel was a division of the newspaper James owned, as a play on the name of the Extreme Risk division of the CIA where we worked. Once a quarter, an innocuous, cleaned-up version of one of my CIA missions was printed in his newspaper. They were always big sellers because I always got into trouble on the trips. If I couldn't make the trip, then someone else from the newspaper would go on some other trip, but James preferred the articles based on CIA missions since they sold more papers.

I stood up and handed him his wallet, ignoring the Extreme Travel comment. James, I do a lot of work for them back here. We've gathered so much information, the world is almost safe from terrorists. I even put my hands on my hips. Doesn't he realize that?

Yes, he does. James pulled me back to the couch on his other side, while Emma stood up and walked around the room, touching everything. However, James said. He thinks you're still psychic.

I'd tried to convince Wilson on the last mission I wasn't, just to save my life. What did you tell him?

That you're not psychic at all. He doesn't buy it but is willing to play along. I can't blame him, Kes. You've come up with some real winners of what some absolute madmen are doing around the world. There's only one way you could've gotten that information.

From Sophie, I said firmly. It wasn't me.

Sophie and Agatha