Page 4 of An Epic Voyage (The Epic Beauty Salon Files #1)

I ndigo left Evangeline’s office and headed to the locker room, outfitted with soothing, spa-like features. The person responsible for the building’s redesign had done a phenomenal job. It was modern, functional, and aesthetically pleasing.

After changing into workout gear, Indy entered the gym.

It was loaded with every weight machine available, and it had a boxing ring in the corner.

There was even an indoor pool since the building had once housed several apartments.

She was alone, so she turned the televisions—there were four—to the Boston Red Sox baseball game and muted them.

Then she tapped a button to pump her workout playlist through the speakers.

She liked to hone her body before an op.

It helped her feel physically prepared and calmed her mind.

Soon, she was wiping perspiration from her forehead as she attacked the weighted bag, jab after jab, kick after kick.

Her muscles were screaming, but she kept going.

Thanks to Jackson and Evangeline, she was the fittest she’d ever been in her life.

At one time, she’d have been lucky to do one pull-up.

Now, she could crank out twenty-five without breaking a sweat.

“Looking good,” Piper called out, and Indigo waved at her teammate.

They’d gone through the trenches together, from intensive sessions of self-defense and martial arts to hand-to-hand combat and weapons training.

Each of them was proficient with handguns, rifles, and knives.

They were literal machines, and she trusted Piper and Chelsea with her life.

Additionally, they’d undergone rigorous schooling as cosmetologists, learning a range of techniques that included cutting, dyeing, and styling hair, as well as professional makeup application and nail art.

They had all graduated from beauty school with the degrees to prove it.

Their backgrounds would withstand any scrutiny that might be brought to bear.

Indy finished her workout and waved to Piper and Chelsea as she headed to the firing range.

With enough room for two people to practice simultaneously, it was located in one corner of the lower level, completely soundproofed so that no one upstairs would hear the bullets being fired at the paper targets.

Indy put on the required ear and eye protection and aimed.

She’d vastly improved over the years to the point where she hit the center almost every time, unless she was going for a headshot, and she’d mastered those too.

Jackson had been the one to teach the women weaponry and self-defense.

When Indy first picked up a gun, she’d been afraid of it, fearing she’d shoot herself in the foot.

Her initial attempt at a paper target had been laughable.

She couldn’t hit squat. Chelsea had been the same way, but Piper had known how to shoot and outperformed them. Now they were level pegging.

Once she finished and cleaned her weapon, she headed to her loft, located above the Epic Beauty Salon. Their living spaces were spectacular, with sweeping views of the Charles River.

The roof was divided into three separate decks: one for Evangeline, one for Jackson, and one shared by Indy, Piper, and Chelsea.

It was outfitted with an outdoor kitchen, fairy lights, and comfortable seating.

They spent many nights there, sharing bottles of wine, laughing, listening to music, and taking in the city’s sounds.

Their upscale salon was located in the heart of Boston, Massachusetts, on a tree-lined street with a planter separating the east and westbound lanes.

They were within walking distance of coffee shops and restaurants and were a stone’s throw from a T station, the rapid transit system that could take them anywhere in the city.

Indy scanned her fingerprint and waited for the elevator door to open.

When it did, she stepped inside and placed her chin on the pad.

While the elevator in the building’s front opened into a hallway, this one took them directly inside their apartments.

Retinal scans prevented unauthorized access to each other’s spaces, although that was rarely a concern. They were as close as sisters.

Indy loved her loft. The ceilings were high, the floor plan open.

Whoever had furnished the building had spared no expense with hardwood floors, marble countertops, and top-of-the-line appliances.

She’d added her own touches, mainly plants everywhere.

Piper or Chelsea would water them when she was on assignment. She did the same for them.

Packing took no time at all. She had a complete makeup kit on wheels ready for operations like this one.

In her suitcase, she added swimwear, sundresses, flip-flops, and sunscreen, as they were traveling to a tropical locale.

She also included a pair of cargo pants, jeans, tops, and a pair of Nikes in case she needed to explore the island to find the nuke.

Her phone chimed with a text from Chelsea. She and Piper were waiting on the rooftop deck with a bottle of wine. She wasn’t saying no to that.

Indy changed into a pair of yoga pants and a crop top before grabbing her phone and heading upstairs.

“Hey, Chica.” Piper handed her a goblet full of deep-red liquid.

Indy dropped onto the cushions and took a sip. Delicious.

“Where are you headed?” Chelsea wanted to know.

Indy told them about the trip on the Van Houten yacht and the stop on his private island.

“I’m so jealous,” Piper groused. “I’d love an exotic vacation on a billionaire’s dime.”

“It’s hardly a pleasure trip.” She explained about the missing nuke.

“Indy, Jabari Abdullahi is as brutal as they come,” Chelsea fretted. “He kills kids in front of their parents, and vice versa.”

“Yeah, I’m aware of his resume. I hope to find the nuke before the meeting. I’d rather not run into him. Now, let’s talk about something else. Piper, how was the girl you helped who was going on her first date?”

“She was a nervous wreck,” Piper told them. “She’s had a crush on the guy for a while and got tired of waiting on him, so she asked him out.”

“Good for her,” Indy praised.

They talked and laughed as the sun set and stars filled the sky. Indy checked her watch. “I’d better get to sleep. I have research to do, and an early flight to Miami.”

They hugged, and Indy promised to be careful before retreating to her loft.

Before she went to bed, she googled Benedict Van Houten and read the latest articles about him.

There were several pictures of Jinger. She was a beautiful woman if you went for the plastic Barbie type.

She was obviously conscious of her looks and had been a dancer in a Las Vegas show.

Van Houten had watched one of her performances and had fallen for her.

Several gossip sites painted her as a vain, cruel gold digger, only with Van Houten for his money, but then, they tended to do that with everyone he dated, as if he were too good for any mere mortal.

Jinger’s style seemed to be excessive makeup, big hair, and minimal clothing. Her assets were prominently displayed in most of the online pictures. Apparently, she was Van Houten’s type. He looked smitten in the photos. Indy knew him to be forty-six. Jinger was fifteen years his junior.

Indy shut off the computer, brushed her teeth, and washed her face. She picked up the dossier that Evangeline and Jackson had prepared for her and read the entire thing before shutting off the light and crawling under the covers.

Images from her first assignment filtered through her head.

She’d been scared out of her mind, afraid she’d mess up and blow everything, including their cover.

She hadn’t been able to sleep a wink the night before.

Evangeline and Jackson had continually assured her they trusted her and that she was ready.

Her preparation had been extensive and thorough.

Thankfully, she hadn’t messed up. It’d been successful, and she’d gained confidence in herself, which grew with every mission.

Instead of fear and anxiety, she now felt excited to accomplish her goals.

Still, it took a while for her mind to shut down. Scenarios ran through her head of things that might go wrong. She liked to prepare for every contingency so she’d know how to react.

This wasn’t the life she’d planned for herself, but she couldn’t imagine doing anything else.