“Babe, I got this!”

Lars is shouting at me to let go of Boris’s hair and to put my gun away.

My husband is barreling up the mountain trail, just catching up to me and my latest capture, a Russian mafia thug we’ve been tailing up and down the eastern coast of Africa.

Lars may be big, strong and agile, but I’m a faster runner.

It’s what makes us such a good team as spies for the CIA.

“But I caught him first!” I shout back as I sit on top of the guy, who is face down on the ground.

I turn my attention to the dirtbag whose spine I’m pressing down with my knee, and I question him in his own language. “Where are the girls?” I say in Russian.

The man spits back at me that he’d rather eat glass than admit anything to a female.

“What is he saying?” Lars says, finally catching up.

“Well, if you would have taken that Russian class like you were supposed to…” I say.

Lars growls. “He’s cussing at you in another language, isn’t he? Come on, let me clock him. Just one time.”

I click my tongue at him. “No, Lars. There are procedures to follow. And I’m gonna sit right here until Interpol arrives. You are not gonna beat him up.”

“Come on!”

I give him a stern look, and then my phone rings.

I look at the screen. “It’s the kids! Get down here, we almost forgot our FaceTime date.”

I answer it as Lars crouches down next to me. Fletcher and his wife, LuLu, appear on the screen. Their own kids appear in and amongst our four little hooligans: Trace, our almost-ten-year-old, and Jet, eight, Brick, six and our only girl, Blossom, four. They’re all speaking at once.

I remind them to take turns.

“Now what have you all been up to? I hope you all have been being good for Fletcher and LuLu.”

“I climbed the whole side of the mountain without any gear!” says Trace.

“Gave me a heart attack,” LuLu comments.

I nudge Lars. “This is your fault.”

He shrugs and accepts responsibility.

“Fletcher has been teaching me archery!” says Jet. I smile, but my heart aches, wishing I had been there to see this.

“I can count to 100 in Spanish and Mandarin,” says Brick.

I clap. “That’s my boy!”

Then little Blossom pipes up. “Is there snow in the Seychelles, Mommy? When are you coming home?”

Lars says, “I’m sorry, we have one more job after this and we’ll be home in time for Christmas. You guys are going to have to handle the decorating on your own this year.”

The kids all lament, and I have to interrupt.

“Actually, we’ll be on a plane home tonight,” I say. I look at Lars. “Doctor’s orders, I have to take a leave of absence from this job for the next eight months. This job is too dangerous in my condition.”

“Mama’s having another baby!” The kids cheer.

Lars shakes his head. “Man, I was really hoping to make it to Jordan to follow that lead…”

I scoff. “Well, if you don’t want babies spoiling all your fun, you could try keeping your hands off me for five minutes.”

He growls and his arm crams me close to him. “Never.” He lands a soft, sweet kiss on my lips and all the kids squeal and groan in delight and disgust at Mommy and Daddy kissing.

We continue our little makeout session long after we hang up the phone.

“Excuse me, I’m still down here,” says Boris in Russian, who I realize I’m still sitting on.

“Don’t you fucking cuss at my wife in Russian,” Lars says, knocking Boris on the back of the head with his open palm.

“He wasn’t cussing,” I say.

Lars shrugs. “Don’t want him talking at you either way.”

“You know, maybe we should start taking separate assignments if these bad dudes are gonna get you all worked up when they so much as look at me.”

“I can’t help it, baby, I gotta keep an eye on you.”

He really does. My big Labrador retriever husband needs to keep his paws and eyes on me at all times.

And honestly, I still like it.