Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
A warm hand slides across my collarbone, wrapping around my neck, dragging me from sleep.
“Mmmm.”
Truck leans in, his lips warm, teasing on my temple. “Rise and shine. We’ve got to go to work.”
“Work?!” I jolt. “Oh my god. What’s wrong?”
He worries. It’s written all over the tense line of his face, the darkness in his eyes. “I haven’t been briefed yet.”
“I want to go with you.”
“You are coming with me.” It’s decided, his tone leaves no room for fear. “I don’t want you out of my sight.”
We stare at each other.
Something is wrong. Something bad has happened. It’s in my heart, in my lungs, ice-cold like tiny crystals that are growing and growing.
“Are you okay?”
His gaze slides away, and he pushes to sit up.
When I crawl into his lap, wrapping myself around him, Truck’s arms band me.
But the tremor in his chest is what terrifies me.
“You’re not okay,” I whisper.
“It’s just my demons.” It’s hard for him to speak, and I wonder if the smokey rasp is full of something unspoken.
I bury my forehead into his neck and hold on. Tight. “We’ll be okay.”
I say it as much for myself as for him.
He kisses me, cradling my cheek with his hand as he does. It’s so damned tender, I weep.
The tears swell up and burst from my lashes.
“Aww, sweetheart. Don’t cry, please. We have to go.” He brushes my hair back. “I don’t want to leave this house for a year, but something’s going down. We’re wheels up in less than two hours.”
“Flying?”
When I say the word, he flinches. “Yeah. Let me see if I can get something for you to wear besides my clothes.”
He slides me off his lap and stands. This time, he moves away without looking back.
The low light from the bathroom fills the great room when he steps inside. The click of the door echoes through the little house, which has gone too quiet now.
I stay sitting, legs curled below me on the bed as he dresses.
His muscles catch the plays of light, flexing and bunching as he slides on a pair of cargo pants and a black T-shirt that hides none of his muscles.
Silently, he laces his boots. Then he returns to the bedside table for his phone.
Still he doesn’t look at me. While he makes a call, he packs a black duffel bag. Surveying the contents. It’s already packed, except for some extra ammo clips, and some other things I don’t recognize.
“Does Camile have anything Allsion can wear?” he asks someone on the other end.
His strong fingers—ones that were in my mouth, inside of me in other secret places only hours ago—make quick work of zipping the bag.
The gulf between us grows, filling with chilled air.
He returns to the bathroom, scavenging something from the drawers. Filling his cargo pockets until someone knocks on the door.
There’s a murmured exchange when he steps outside. Too low for me to hear, but it doesn’t sound good from the tones.
Or Truck’s tone, at least.
When he returns, he’s got a change of clothes in his hand. “Beast brought these to you. Camile said these should fit.”
I stretch and stand, unsteady inside, even if my feet are firm on the ground. “Will you tell me what’s going on?”
He hesitates. Looks down at me from his incredible height, and it hits me.
Truck is in warrior mode.
My heart sinks.
“Where are we going?” My tone trembles, my fingers digging into the clothes he handed me.
“To Oregon.”
“Why?” I blurt.
“We’re going to break into your father’s house.”
I stumble back. “Wait. We are?”
The pulse in my neck is skipping, my body coming alive like I’ve been jolted with electricity. “Where is he?”
He grunts. The narrow gaze pinning me hardening even more. “Here in Vandemora.”
“Oh, my god, that’s brilliant!” I spin on my heel and start pulling on the borrowed clothing. “I know exactly where to look for evidence. And we have to see where Rosalie is too.”
Truck catches me, whipping me around, his massive hands on my shoulders. “Christ, woman. You’re not supposed to be excited about this. Here I am, scared as fuck about taking you, too worried to leave you, and you’re acting like this?”
I lunge up on my toes and kiss his frown. “Yes, don’t you see? It’s perfect. We won’t have to wonder anymore.”
“Fucking hell, Allison . Are you out of your mind?”
“I’ve got you to protect me, what could go wrong?”
For a beat, I wonder if his head might explode.
But all he does is curse before he latches his hand around my wrist, jerks the bag off the table, and storms out the door.
“Plenty, that’s what could go fucking wrong.”