Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Biting my lip, I press my hands flat on the table to keep from tearing at my fingernails. “He’s a little worried.”
“Of course. He wants to take care of you.”
“Do you think he’s okay? He’s… different today.”
Justice contemplates that, then rises from his seat. “I’ll go check on him.”
“I’d appreciate that so much.”
He squeezes out from behind the table—because private jet designers must not make planes for men like Justice and Truck—and strides down the aisle to the back of the plane.
I blow out a breath, leaning back in the seat.
The leather is butter-soft and shaped like a cozy hug. It's really nice.
If I wasn’t wrapped up in my father’s drama.
Glancing around, I take in the luxurious space.
Agile Security & Rescue puzzles me. They must be loaded.
This thought is a rabbit hole that leads me to dark places.
I never asked how much my father paid to find me.
He’s got plenty, but to spend it on me—that’s a stretch.
Regardless, they found me. Now they’re keeping me safe. From him. Using his money.
What made them turn against him?
Digging my fingers into my hair, I let out a little groan since I’m still by myself.
What a mess.
Thomas’s words float back to me. You might want to ask about that paternity test.
Anger builds inside me until I’m vibrating. Is it true he’s not my father?
That would be shocking.
Or were they playing me?
Justice’s laptop is open on the table. I grab it without much thought and bring up a search engine.
How long does a DNA test for paternity take?
Two weeks.
Groan. Scrunching my nose, I keep searching. Really two weeks?
In the days of instant this and instant that, it seems like there has to be something quicker.
Justice strolls up. “Girl, you know anything about boundaries?”
He’s grinning, so I know he’s not mad.
“Do you know how to get a DNA paternity test done quickly?”
His brows tick. “Don’t you have to have the baby first?”
My mouth falls open, and he belly-laughs. “Just kidding.”
“I’m the baby in question.”
His head starts moving from side to side as his hands come up. “I’m not calling you that. Truck hears me utter the word baby around you, and he really will kill me.”
I thump my fist against my forehead. “Can we be serious?”
That gets him.
“Yeah, Ally, what’s up?”
Ally. So, he’s adopted Truck’s nickname for me too.
I like it. No one has ever called me that. Maybe because my father’s friends are too stuck up for nicknames. And… well, I’m not sure why anyone else hasn’t.
But it feels nice. Like I’m in the team.
“Do I get one of those badass nicknames like you guys?”
His eyes are sparking, deep brown and full of life when he glances over at me. “Didn’t Truck call you Doc?”
My lips twitch. “He does, but that’s not very original.”
“What do you want to be called?”
Eeep. “I have no idea. This sounds serious.”
“Is that what you were looking up on the computer?”
“Oh, no.” I turn serious, the smile I had dropping like a rock. “If I steal some hair from my father’s hairbrush can we get testing done to see if his DNA matches me?”
As he slides into the seat, wedging his long legs under the table, he reaches for the computer. “I know the right person for the job.”
He dives in, his calloused fingers banging on the laptop, but Truck still isn’t back, and Justice never said what was up.
“Hey there, frog man, was my guy okay?”
“No.”
I sit back abruptly. Fluttering behind my sternum makes me press my hand there. “What’s wrong?”
“That boy is lovesick.”
Oh. I sag a little. “Besides that?”
Notice I don’t say he’s wrong, because I have a feeling that wobbly feeling inside of me is lovesickness too.
“His sixth sense is issuing every warning alarm known to man.”
“This is the safest thing we’ve done all week.”
He nods, not lifting his eyes. “Probably, but he had a dream.”
I wait, my breath held.
“A bad one.”
“Well, it’s not surprising after everything that’s happened to us and to his brother. It’s been a long few days.”
“He’s rattled.”
Fear slithers down my spine. “What did he see?”
My voice cracks, and I clear my throat as a shadow passes behind me.
Truck drops into the seat next to me, his face and the edge of his hair damp like he’s splashed himself with cool water.
“What did you see in your dream?”
Truck flattens his hands on the table. “Nothing, it was just a bunch of jumbled stuff. I just feel really fucking uneasy about taking you on an op.”
Pressing my hand to his sternum, I lean over the arm rest until we’re eye to eye and I can feel his heat pressing into me. “I’ll be okay.”
I know what he’s been through, losing Hope. It’s understandable that he’s worried. Extra worried, in fact. “I’ll do exactly what you tell me to do, no matter what.”
As our serious gazes stay locked, Truck nods slowly. “I’m gonna hold you to that, Doc.”
The speaker crackles to life above us. A woman’s voice fills the cabin.
“We’re landing in ten minutes. Get ready to deplane quickly. I have to take off immediately, Team One needs me to do an urgent pick up.”
“Showtime,” Justice closes his laptop with a thunk and stretches until his hands bump the curved plane ceiling. “About your question, if you get the DNA, I can get it done in 48 hours.”
“What’s this about?” Truck asks as he buckles his seatbelt, then buckles mine, cinching the belt until I groan from the pressure.
Truthfully, I’m surprised the beast didn’t make me wear it the whole time we were on the plane. Even though I know as well as the next person, turbulence can happen at any second, but maybe I was feeling a little rebellious.
Or maybe Truck short-circuited some of my wiring.
“Babe?” he prompts.
“Oh, sorry, I got distracted wondering if you were going to pull out a four-point harness for me too.”
“Funny girl. But you see I'm not laughing. What DNA?”
“My father’s. I’m going to steal some hair from his hairbrush or dig something out of his trash.”
The air crackles as Truck gives me a disbelieving look.
“I’ll be right there in the house already. It will be easy.”
“She’s right,” Justice says. “Oh, and I thought of a call sign for you, Allison. What about Gator?”
I’m sure my brows form two question marks.
Justice smirks. “Crocodile…Croc—you know, since you walked away from that shit with all your limbs—but it just doesn’t have the same ring. I think Gator is much better.”
With a slow head shake, Truck rakes his hand down his face, leaving his mouth hanging open.
“Justice,” he grunts. “You’re not helping me here.”
“At least I didn’t tell Gator you’re thinking about handcuffing her to the plane.”