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Author's Chapter Notes:
Prompt: A story set in a country you’ve never been to.


Someone once said that, before getting married, you should go and travel the world. That’s what Madeleine Spencer always planned to do, but with Henry’s workaholic attitude and soon the birth of their first, and ultimately only, child, they never did get around to it. So she left her family behind and went to see the world on her own instead.

Shawn often thought he must have inherited his mother’s restlessness, and while he never managed to scrape together enough money to see all the places he wanted to see, he still had collected an impressive amount of ticks on the mental world map in his head.

And then he met Juliet O’Hara, who, much like his father, never could quite let go of her calling and leave her work and the boundaries of her home behind for a week or two. A weekend retreat here and family visit there was about the extent of their getaways thus far. Juliet once only half-jokingly admitted she should have waited until after the trip to the Amalfi coast before breaking up with Declan.

But lately, Juliet had become tense and agitated. She did not seem comfortable in her own home anymore, ever since that night a couple months ago, the memory popping up whenever she saw the small crack in the wardrobe’s door.  

So much had happened since leaving Santa Barbara. She was exhausted.

“Choose a number,” Shawn said one evening. His legs were propped up on Juliet’s lap and his torso enclosed by at least five pillows. One hand was tucked behind his head while the other typed away on his laptop. Juliet, her own feet resting on the couch table between a couple of mostly empty pizza boxes, didn’t even look up from the book she was reading when she said: “Any number?”

More tapping, and then Shawn answered: “Between 1 and 206.”


Shawn hummed and tapped the touchpad a couple more times. “Saint Lucia.”

Now Juliet did look up. “As in the Caribbean?”

“Too island-y?”

Juliet shook her head slowly. “Just not as obscure as I had feared.”

Shawn chuckled. “It’s completely random,” he promised and turned his laptop around.

“Here’s a list of every sovereign state in the world courtesy of Wikipedia, which includes all those countries some peoples may or may not recognize as such, each assigned a random number in random order. You could say it’s fate. Plus we’d be back just in time for your aunt’s birthday.”

“Why do you even know when my aunt’s birthday is?”

“Because you went to visit her on her 60th last year, remember?

Juliet couldn’t argue with that. She closed her book and got out her phone instead.

“Maybe it’s time to brush up on my French, then.”


“You’ve grown up so fast.” Gus sniffed, wiping a not so imaginary tear from the corner of his eye. “I never thought I’d see you go on a cruiser. That’s such an adult thing to do.”

Shawn barely stifled a groan. Gus had become a mother hen after Shawn told him about their vacation plans, and it was starting to get on his nerves.

“I’ve worked on a cruise ship one summer, I sent you a postcard,” he reminded his friend, who chose to ignore the comment.

They were standing in the entrance lobby of Terminal 2, ready to drop off their luggage for their flight to Miami, Florida. Gus had generously offered to drive them and see them off, despite it being the middle of the night. Shawn was surprised he didn’t also book his own ticket to make sure they reached the ship that would be their home for the next seven days.

“Take good care of him,” Gus said to Juliet, who made no effort in hiding her amusement.

“I’m more worried about you,” she admitted. “You gonna be alright all alone?”

“Please, I’ve got tons of appointments lined up. And an office to clean, now that renovations are finally done. And then I’ll get started on our filing system and set up a server and database. And–”

“Dude, stop. That’s just sad.”

Gus could handle a few domestic cases on his own just fine. Vick had promised not to get him mixed up in anything dangerous should she require an extra set of hands, so Shawn was mostly sure he wouldn’t have to worry about his friend.

“I’ve also got a date with Eve at the local history museum in a couple hours,” Gus said, flicking his nose.

“Does she know it’s a date?” Juliet asked.

“Please tell me it wasn't you who suggested that location,” Shawn said simultaneously.

Gus bristled. “It was her who invited me along.”

Shawn nodded. That probably meant a negative for Jules’ question.

“And now get on board before the plane leaves without you,” Gus said, shooing them with a grin on his face. Shawn and Juliet picked up their suitcases, Gus gave each a quick hug, and off they went towards the queue for the luggage drop off, waving and Shawn shouting embarrassing declarations of love that soon prompted Gus to flee the terminal.

Juliet shook her head at Shawn, hooking her arm in his as they got in line.

“A couple days of the scenic Caribbean island hopping route, and then we’ll take advantage of the decadent, all-inclusive Saint Lucian beach life,” Shawn said serenely. Then his face got serious as he turned to Juliet: “You’re not getting sea sick like Gus, right?”  

The following afternoon, Juliet navigated the rocking promenade encircling the five-deck ship with a full glass of water in hand, the liquid precariously close to spilling before she could reach her destination. She was accompanied by a middle-aged woman whose acquaintance she had made within the first ten minutes of their journey.

“Phew, I didn’t expect it to be quite so windy today,” Susanne said, clutching her oversized sun hat with both hands. Her sunglasses had slipped a bit, green eyes squinting into the sun that was just peaking out from behind a big cloud. She had gone up to her room on the third deck to put on more sunscreen and met up with Juliet afterward at the cantina. This was apparently her and her husband Stephen’s fourth time on this boat, and thus she knew every corner, as opposed to the detective who had gotten lost the second she left Shawn at the rail on the promenade deck.

“I guess Shawn didn’t, either,” Juliet chuckled as the person in question came into view. He was leaning precariously far over the rail, clinging to the metal bars for dear life. Stephen had one hand on his back, both for comfort as well as to make sure he didn’t lose his grip and go overboard.

Juliet waited for Shawn’s face, which was even paler than Susanne’s complexion, to surface with a truly miserable expression before handing over the glass.

“We talked about this, no swimming with the dolphins!” she quipped.

“My angel,” Shawn muttered and downed the water in one go.

“He’s a champ,” Stephen said, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening with glee. She couldn't fault him, it took everything she had not to rub Shawn’s question this morning in his face. Unlike his wife, Stephen had the tanned skin of someone who made the best of the permanent Floridian sunshine. His upbringing in Miami was audible in a faint lilt, much to Juliet’s appreciation, and seen in his fashion choice of pastel colored shirt over shorts which bore a close resemblance to swimming trunks.

Shawn barely managed to give the glass back before he attempted another nosedive into the ocean. Juliet patted his shoulder.

“Did you not bring those sea sickness band aids you gave Gus back on that ferry?” she asked, certain he would know what she was referring to. They had opted not to disclose their true professions if asked, to keep a low profile and for once actually enjoy their vacation, so she avoided topics that had anything to do with police work. As far as the McCormack’s were concerned they were both nondescript office workers. Thankfully they had not followed up on it and instead spent the next fifteen minutes talking about Stephen’s successful broker business and Susanne’s cosmetic studio. Shawn had bit back a comment but shot Juliet a glance that said they would have to discuss the chance of meeting such a clichéd couple on a cruise ship in detail at a later time.

"Those were just regular band aids, Jules,” Shawn said, voice muffled as he was still hanging from the rail like a sack of old potatoes. "It was all a placenta effect.”

Stephen removed his hand from his back and blinked a couple times.

"Shawn, you know it's called the placebo effect.”

"You're no fun, Jules.” Shawn moaned and put his forehead on his arms. “Worst. Vacation. Ever.”

Juliet would have tried to comfort him but they were surrounded by people and neither of them comfortable with PDA, so she opted for a hand on his shoulder and gentle squeeze.

“You know what, I’ve got some sea sickness medication in my suitcase, let me go get some for you.”

Shawn lifted his head and stared at Stephen like he was the actual messiah. Susanne looked like she wanted to object, probably to save their medicine in case of emergency on their part, but then she just smiled at him and said she’d join her husband to get some more of her sun cream.

Juliet sighed and put her arms onto the rail next to Shawn, gently bumping into him.

"I can’t believe you cured Gus with regular band-aids,” she said, amusement evident in her voice.

Shawn huffed. “That guy is so gullible. When we were five I convinced him Girl Scout Cookies were made of actual Girl Scouts. The next day his neighbor’s daughter went to summer camp and when the Girl Scouts came by the following week he came screaming into our house and told dad to arrest them for making little Sue Baker into biscuits.”

“You’re the worst,” Juliet said, but couldn’t help laughing at his story anyway. “I’m surprised he still grew up somewhat okay with you as his friend.”

“Please, Jules, have I ever told you about that time–”

The rest of the sentence got lost in a new round of dry heaving and gagging. Juliet scrunched up her face and patted his back. Definitely not what she had expected from their first real vacation in two years.

Thankfully they didn't have to wait too long until Stephen and Susanne returned with a pill bottle and more water, both of which Shawn swallowed greedily.

“Wait about 15 minutes and you should feel better,” Stephen said to Shawn’s back of the head which was once again hanging as close to the spray from the water below as possible.

Susanne held up a brochure to Juliet.

“Lunch menu, would you like to join us?” Juliet looked between the brochure and Shawn, but he just waved at her.

“Go ahead without me,” he said in his most miserable voice. “I think I’ll stay here for a bit longer.”

“You sure?” she said, not wanting to leave him alone in his condition.

“I’m sure at least one of the other 196 passengers will notice should I go overboard.”

Not really reassured Juliet still accepted Shawn’s wish. She had heard the underlying plea for some space and couldn't fault him – she wouldn’t be particularly delighted by the crowding company either if it were her sacrificing her last three meals to the sea god.

"You know where you need to go?” she asked despite better judgment, and Shawn just tapped his temple.

“Call me if you need anything,” she said.

Shawn jerked up in alarm. “Speaking of which, I forgot to call Gus for my bi-hourly check-in. He’s gonna be pissed. And he’s going to ridicule me.”

Juliet laughed. “You deserve it a little bit.”

Shawn pouted even when he got a quick peck on the cheek despite the McCormack’s waiting for Juliet nearby.

“Buen apetito. Take your bag and get me some of the finger food, will ya?”

“This is a classy establishment, Shawn, I can’t just steal food for you.”

“I paid for it, it’s only fair.”

“Actually, I paid for it.”

“Same difference.”

“I’m going now.”

Shawn watched her leave with a heavy sigh and got out his phone.


“Dude, worst timing ever.”

Not their traditional greeting, but Shawn could work with it. Or he would have if Gus had not immediately started a tirade about him interrupting his chances to woo his lady friend with whom he was currently enjoying a private tour of the museum’s exhibitions.

“Woo, Gus, really?”

He was too tired to muster his usual sarcastic tone. Even his phone felt heavy as a brick in his hand, and if it weren’t for the rail supporting him, Shawn was not sure he’d still be standing upright.

Gus heard that something was wrong right away. And he didn’t even make an effort to hide his amusement at Shawn’s predicament.

“So you’re enjoying your cruise then, eh? How’s the wind, are there huge waves?”

“You’re the worst friend ever,” Shawn mumbled. He had shown nothing but support when it was Gus who was struggling to keep his insides where they belonged, despite the fact he had been viciously tricked and kidnapped.

“So did you bring the Benadryl I gave you yesterday?” Gus asked when he finally stopped laughing.

“No Gus, I did not.” Sometimes he wished he really were psychic. Maybe he should try Tarot cards.

“You know damn well I have impeccable sea legs.” And now a bottle of pills that would hopefully keep him alive long enough to reach land. Bless Stephen and his Dyphenmentazol.

All of a sudden the humor was gone from Gus’ voice. “What did you say the name was?”

“Dyphenmentazol,” Shawn repeated, checking the label in case he had remembered wrong. Of course, he hadn’t.

“Can you spell that for me?” Gus asked.

Shawn huffed indignantly. “Is that your audition to be the new spell master? Isn’t it a bit too late for that?” After all the Spelling Bee was only a week from now. Surely all relevant personnel was already briefed and ready to go.

“Shawn, Dyphenmentazol was put on the list of banned drugs last year. It was contaminated with god knows what other substances, so they recalled it immediately.”

A cold grip clenched his stomach that had nothing to do with his sea sickness.

“How do you even know that? Didn’t you quit your other job, like, five years ago?”

“It has barely been six months, Shawn,” Gus rectified. “And now focus, this is serious.”

Easy for him to say. Shawn’s mind was already miles ahead, wondering if Stephen had given him these pills on purpose and if yes, how he could have so completely misread the guy. True, they had only known each other for a few hours, the last of which he had mostly spent doing his best ‘Gus at a gory crime scene’ impression.

He tuned back into Gus’ monolog when he heard the words “get rid of the drug.” And how the hell was he supposed to be–

The ship hit a particularly big wave, and with the commencing quarter second of freefall, his stomach lurched in the opposite direction. The phone slipped from his hand but mercifully cluttered to the ground next to him instead of into the open water, unlike some bodily fluids exiting quite forcefully upon impact.

Well, that was one problem solved.

“... and drink lots of water,” Gus said, oblivious to what had just transpired, once Shawn had managed to pick up his phone despite his trembling hands. “Just in case there’s some residue left.”

“That won’t be a problem, “ Shawn muttered. He was now sitting on the floor, his back leaning against the rail and lamenting the crack that had appeared on the phone’s screen. He could feel the eyes of a few other guests on him. He swore if he found a single photo of his miserable self on Instagram he was going to throw punches.

Speaking of which.

“I better go get Jules, seems like we’ve got ourselves a case.”

She was going to be thrilled.


Shawn was still sitting with his back against the rail when Juliet found him. His text had been customarily cryptic, asking her to come up with an excuse and meet him back out here alone, and Juliet had thought his condition had gotten worse. So instead of going to him right away she made a little detour.

The promenade deck was almost empty now, most people having gone inside or onto the sun decks to eat their lunch. Shawn had shed his flannel shirt and now sat only in his t-shirt, wiping his forehead with the former as she approached.

“This sucks,” he moaned, obviously trying to elicit as much pity from her as he could. It was really quite adorable.

“I’ve got something for you,” she said as she crouched down next to him.

“Me, too, but you go first.”

Juliet produced a bright yellow sweatband from the breast pocket of her own flannel shirt – Shawn had joked earlier that they were already transforming into one of those couples that dressed and talked the same way, although he would probably not look half as good in short shorts as Juliet did. Shawn inspected the item suspiciously.

“It’s one of those Chinese motion sickness wrist bands,” she explained. “They apply pressure on some acupuncture pressure point to relieve nausea. They sell them in the little shop on deck three.”

Shawn seemed unconvinced, but when the ship hit yet another wave he removed the lime green silicone band from his left wrist and replaced it with the sweat band as per Juliet’s instruction.

“It should work immediately,” she said, and Shawn shook his wrist a couple times. “Better?”

Shawn heaved a sigh of relief. “I guess I can tell you now that I had to get rid of Stephen’s medication,” he said.

“Get rid of it?”

“Gus said it’s on the list of banned substances, except for in India for some reason. We may have a pair of smugglers on our hand.”

Juliet gaped at him. He couldn’t be serious, right? This was their vacation. They were on a cruise ship. Her personal bad guy forecast had announced no criminal activity for the next week.

“Jules, did you go into shock?”

She plopped down next to Shawn, banging her head against the metallic rods.

“On the plus side this stuff really does seem to be working,” Shawn said, holding up the wrist with the sweat band. His face looked clammy and pale, but the crooked grin was back for the first time in hours. “Wanna go snoop?”

She didn’t even ask how he knew where the McCormack’s cabin was. She had learned to just go with it, often more perplexed by his explanation than when she puzzled over the possible clues she may have been able to pick up on herself. In a way, it often frustrated her to know how much she missed when compared to his hyper-observant self, but every now and then she saw the toll it could take on him and counted herself lucky. She hadn’t made head detective due to incompetence – Juliet knew her worth and she knew she would get to the same conclusions as Shawn at some point, even if it took a bit longer.

Shawn tried the door to find it locked. She had no jurisdiction, so asking a crew member for access was out of the question. Before she could even voice a possible solution to their problem, Shawn had already jimmied the door open with his elementary school library card. He had lost his ID somewhere between packing up the old Psych office and littering Juliet’s San Francisco apartment 24 hours later, and Gus vehemently refused to give him his own card.

“Shawn…” Juliet began but got cut off by a hand wave. Shawn staggered a bit as he moved forward, face paling noticeably, but managed to keep control over his body.

“I love the Chinese,” he murmured as he entered the cabin which proved to be much spacier than the one they had been able to afford.

Juliet stayed by the entrance, battling with herself as she tried to decide whether to help Shawn or drag his ass out of there and make sure no one would ever know the head detective of the San Francisco Police Department had just committed a B&E by proxy.

“Bingo!” Shawn called, holding up a medium sized beauty box that looked like a miniature version of Gus’ old pharmaceutical case.

“Shawn, you know I’m an officer of the law, right?” Juliet said, nervously glancing up and down the corridor to see if anyone had heard him. “I can’t just break into other people’s cabins.”

“Don’t worry, sweetie, I’m a PI.”

“You're not allowed to do that either.”

Shawn just grinned his lopsided grin and made a show of opening the clasps holding the case’s lid shut. With a flourish, he revealed an interior filled to the brim with pill bottles and packets.

Footsteps redirected her attention back to the narrow corridor. A pair of hairy naked legs descended the stairs towards the cabins, revealing first bright orange short shorts and then a navy green polo shirt with a matching fisherman’s hat she was sure she had seen on Spencer senior on a few occasions. She couldn’t help but stare at the elderly guy regarding her with watery eyes. For a second she thought of how elephants traveled great lengths to their family’s graveyards to die. She shot Shawn a grim glare, cursing him for rubbing off on her in all the bad ways.

The old man nodded as he shuffled past her. She reciprocated with a forced smile. He glanced into the room where Shawn kept on doing whatever he was doing, looking to all the world like he belonged in there. She tapped her foot, arms crossed in front of her chest as she waited for their unexpected guest to bugger off. Shawn had started to take photos on his phone, although they both knew none of it would be admissible as evidence later. She feared he was already planning some big reveal that would ultimately get them both in trouble and might end in a stand-off.

Shawn must have had a similar thought for he suddenly abandoned his task to look around the room once more instead.

“If I were a small-time drug smuggler, where would I hide my gun…?” he mumbled to himself tapping his chin as he pondered the possibilities.

Taking one last look at their surroundings – Mister Short Shorts had finally vanished behind a door further down the corridor – she stepped into the room after all, making a beeline for Susanne’s Prada travel bag. Next to it lay a wash bag in which she found a small Smith & Wesson M&P 9mm pistol. Shawn stared in awe.

“Do I look this sexy whenever I reveal things?”

Juliet huffed. “You wish.”

“Is this where your gun is hidden, too? But then where did you pack your toothbrush?” he asked.

“My gun’s in the ship’s safe, Shawn,” she reminded him. “Along with my badge.”


“Which is where we should go right now. And then we’ll talk to the captain to contact the authorities of our next destination to tip them off.”

Shawn made a face. “That doesn’t sound very action packed.”

“We’re on vacation.”

“But what about our Speed II reenactment? You would make a great Sandra Bullock.”

Juliet grabbed Shawn by the arm to rush him out of the cabin. When she looked around the threshold to check if the coast was clear, she came nose to muzzle with a Sig Sauer P220. Shawn pulled her back inside and slammed the door shut.

“Shit,” Juliet said. Who would have thought Mister Short Shorts was one of the bad guys?

A knock on the door startled them out of their momentary paralysis.

“You’re kidding, right? What’s next, is he gonna tell us he doesn’t want to hurt us?”

Another knock, then a surprisingly strong, deep voice filtered through the wood.

“I’m just here to talk, not to hurt you.”

Shawn and Juliet exchanged a look. She was no Gus, but she was catching on.

“That’s a stupid idea, Shawn.”

“Just go with me on this one, sweetie,” he replied as he opened the door, a big smile on his face.

“You know, I knew there was something wrong with this room. The shirts were all the wrong size.”

The man drew his arm back and punched him in the face.


Whatever else  Shawn wanted to say got lost in the scuffle as it was Juliet’s turn to yank him back into the cabin. The man on the other side cursed.

“You lied to us!” Shawn yelled when the door was once again firmly shut and the security bolt turned. Juliet shot him another look. Then she held out a shirt she had snatched off the hook on the inside of the door. Shawn hissed as he pressed it against his split lip.

“You’re an idiot.”

“At least I got this.” Shawn held up the Sig Sauer. Juliet gaped. “Why do you think Mister Short Shorts is currently reciting the entirety of Urban Dictionary?”

The cursing got quieter as the man likely went off to fetch his partners in crime.

Juliet raised her eyebrows at him. “Lifeboat?”

Shawn nodded. “Lifeboat”.

They split up. Juliet made her way to the captain's house while Shawn went to get one of the two security guards he had spotted upon boarding. He hid the Sig in the waistband of his shorts and then tucked it into the waistband of his boxer shorts instead when he felt the gun slipping after only a few steps.

Before he found a guard, he found the lifeboats. They were hanging starboard over the side of the ship, covered in tarp and secured with ropes just loose enough not to become an obstacle should a matter of emergency arise. He looked over his shoulder to where a few passengers were currently on their way up to the sun deck where the only pool was located. On the staircase stood Mr. and Mrs. McCormack.

“Oh come on,” Shawn said. Their eyes met, Susanne’s going past him towards the boats. Then she seemed to have a better idea and barreled back up the stairs, Stephen on her heels. At the top of the staircase, he could see a flash of orange pants.

For a second Shawn contemplated drawing the gun and ordering them to stop, but then thought better of it. Causing a panic to break out on a crowded ship seemed like a bad idea even to him.

Shawn got out his phone instead and hit speed dial two. Juliet, of course, had at some point been number one, but then Gus had looked at him with those big doe eyes filling with sympathetic tears and he had changed it back to how it had been since Shawn had bought his first cell phone. Juliet had just rolled her eyes.

“They’re by the pool,” he grunted when she picked up. Those stairs were rather steep and made running up them a pitiful experience. He shoved people who had just been pushed to one side by the perpetrators to the other and out of his way, leaving a path of disgruntled imprecations in his wake. He saw Susanne’s sun hat vanish on the other side of the deck where the second staircase led down to what, for symmetrical reasons, could only be another stash of lifeboats. He reached the rail just in time to see Stephen jump the last couple steps to the ground. Mister Short Shorts dived behind him and Susanne clutched her hat as if a single beam of sunlight hitting her pale skin would make her crumble into a pile of dust. Who knew, maybe it would.

Hidden underneath the staircase Juliet jumped into view, training her tiny backup Beretta at Stephen’s chest. She wasn’t wearing heels, so her unimpressive height packed even less of a punch than usual. Stephen made a move as if to pummel her. She moved in first and smashed her elbow into his sternum, knocking Stephen onto his ass.

Shawn whistled.

“SFPD, you are under arrest!” Juliet yelled, pointing the gun once again at Stephen but looking at the two other perpetrators instead. Her left hand went to lift her tank top and revealed the badge clipped to her short shorts. Shawn sauntered down the stairs to where all three perps had put up their hands. One of the previously scarce security guards rounded the corner to see what the commotion was about, and the other came up behind Juliet, walkie-talkie in hand and seemingly already up to speed with the situation. She was a burly, no-nonsense woman sporting an impressive sunburn along her neck. Her much younger partner seemed to fare much better in that regard, exposing as much of his naturally tan skin as the uniform allowed. Shawn noted the sandals covering his stockinged feet.

“Bold choice, man,” he said.

Stephen turned around when he heard him speak, eyes going to the piece of now bloody fabric clutched in his hand. “Is that my shirt?!” he exclaimed.

Shawn glanced at it and shrugged. “It was for a good cause.”

The young guard looked between them and his boss, his face betraying how much this situation went over his head.

Shawn handed him Mister Short Shorts’ gun.

“Who are you people?” the guard asked, inspecting the weapon like he had never seen one before. Then again he was only equipped with a baton and walkie talkie, so maybe he hadn’t.

“I can’t believe you betrayed us like this," Stephen said, craning his neck to look at Shawn. “And after I helped you out with your sea sickness, too!”

Shawn huffed and held up his wrist. “Chinese acupuncture, man, that’s where it’s at!”

Five minutes later the captain finally showed up and shepherded everyone into a spare room out of sight of the guests. Stephen, Susanne and old Jack McCormack got put under constant guard and the Bahamas port police confirmed they were awaiting their arrival to properly process the little gang of drug dealers.

“I have to say I didn’t expect Susanne to be the head of operations,” Shawn admitted later that day when he and Juliet enjoyed a couple glasses of freshly made iced tea in the captain’s house where they had been invited to after everything had been said and done. “But then again her father would probably not be the best choice what with his color blindness and all. It would be quite disastrous to mix up those little pills, huh.”

“What I can’t believe is that we keep running into these sleazy couples whenever we go on vacation. There must be something wrong with us.”

“Just wait for our honeymoon. We should go to Vegas, maybe we’ll catch the next Ocean’s Eleven.”

“That’s not even funny.”

“It’s a little bit funny.”

“Do you think they’re gonna call Chief Vick?"

“I already texted her earlier. She may or may not tell them we were here undercover.”

Juliet gaped at Shawn, a mixture of wonder and astonishment in her eyes. “I don’t know what she sees in you.”

Shawn grinned widely, letting his gaze wander along the panorama windows of the captain’s house.

“Land, ho!” he said and pulled her closer. “20 bucks says we’re gonna arrest a mob boss in the next two hours.”

Juliet puckered her lips.

“How’s the sea sickness, by the way?” she asked sweetly.

Shawn looked at the sweat band with a bright grin. “It worked like magic!”

Juliet’s mouth twisted into a devilish smile. “You know that’s just a regular sweatband I happened to have in my bag, right? The medical bands have a piece of plastic that applies the pressure on the acupuncture point.”

Shawn went slightly green in the face.

“But don’t worry about it, we should reach the port in about 30 minutes.”

Shawn groaned.

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