Page 16 of Double Fault

“In fifteen minutes, she is.”

With a sigh, my best friend crosses a leg over his knee. “If we’re going to be technical about it, then she has twenty-one minutes and…” He looks again at his watch. “Seventeen seconds.”

“Smart-ass.”

The door to the lavatory pops open, and Maddie appears, washed hand extended. “I heard that. Pay up, Daddy.”

Grunting, I fish my wallet out of my pocket. It’s my own damn fault for starting the swear jar in the first place. I cuss way more than I thought I did.

I pass Maddie a dollar.

She eyes it with a grin and stuffs it into her pocket.

Fisher tries to stifle a laugh.

“Don’t gloat,” I warn him. “She’ll come after you too.”

My daughter has moved on, now rifling through her backpack. “Is Sabrina here?” With a flourish, she pulls out a Barbie coloring book and crayons.

“Not yet.” Bent at the waist, I peer out one of the small windows and survey the tarmac. “You’re sure she has everything she needs to be gone for so long?” I turn an accusing look to my friend and coach.

“I took care of it all,” Fisher says. “Now will you shut up?”

Maddie zips up her backpack and holds out her hand. “Shut up is not nice words, Uncle Fisher.”

He smiles, eyes crinkling. “But it’s not a curse word. I owe you nothing, you little hellion.”

Her shoulders droop. “Fine. It was worth a try.”

I look at the time on my phone again, only to have it yanked from my hand.

“She’ll be here.” Fisher, who has magically appeared beside me, tucks the device into his pocket.

I glower, hand held out. “Give that back.”

“Stop being a prick, and I’ll consider it.” He settles in his seat again, the picture of calm, cool, and collected.

“Um, is prick a bad word?”

Groaning, I pinch the bridge of my nose. It’s going to be a long-ass flight. “It’s not a nice word, but no, it’s not a bad word like you’re asking.”

“Oh.” She hops into her own seat, grasping her teddy a little tighter.

Though they’re both content to sit and wait, the anxiety coursing through me makes it impossible for me to stop moving. “I’m going to wait outside.”

“Thank God,” Fisher mutters behind me.

If Maddie wasn’t there, I’d give him the finger. Instead, I settle for a huff and a glare.

As I descend the steps, I scan the tarmac. There’s still no sign of Sabrina. I cross my arms over my chest and let out an annoyed sigh. If she’s not here before we’re scheduled to take off, then she can kiss this job goodbye. I’ve got a schedule to keep, and we don’t have time to wait on her.

With less than ten minutes to spare, she appears, stepping out of the building with a guy from security on her heels.

“Tick-tock, Howard,” I say as she approaches. “Cutting it close, are we?” I tap the nonexistent watch on my wrist.

“It’s not my fault. I got held up in security. But it’s okay, big guy.” She gives my chest a pat as she passes me and heads straight for the stairs. “I got my own escort and everything.” Without turning back, she clambers up the steps and into the plane.

Crossing my arms, I eye the guy who followed her out. “What was the problem?”

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