Page 17 of Double Fault

It’s a private airport. Typically they’re a little more lax.

“You know how Stephen is.” He shrugs.

Stephen. I should have known. That security officer in particular is a giant douchebag. Actually, douchebag is too kind for him. He’s a racist fuckwad.

“He took her hair products, and she gave him lip about it.”

Of course she did. My lips twitch, but I force my expression to stay neutral.

“Hey.” Fisher pokes his head out the door, his hair ruffling in the wind. “Do you want us to leave without you?”

I jog up the steps, extending my hand. “I need my phone.”

Brow furrowed, he pulls it from his pocket. “Why?”

“Because Stephen in security is getting fired.”

His eyes widen. “What’d he do now?”

“He was mean to my nanny and confiscated her hair stuff.”

He presses his lips together like he’s trying not to laugh at me, but he hands over the device.

It takes a minute to be connected with Pete. He’s a busy guy and definitely too important to deal with the bullshit I’m about to impart to him, but I don’t care.

“Hey,” I say when he picks up. “Fire Stephen, or I’ll fly out of another airport from now on. And get someone to bring the stuff he took from my nanny before we take off. Thanks.”

I hang up without waiting for a response.

Fisher does laugh this time.

Irritation gnaws at me. “What are you laughing at?”

“Oh, nothing,” he practically singsongs.

I frown. What the hell does he think is so funny?

With a shake of my head, I turn away from him and check on my daughter. Maddie’s in the same seat she claimed when we got here, but she’s leaning to one side, getting as close to Sabrina as she can with an armrest between them. With their heads bent together, they’re whispering.

As if she can sense my attention, Sabrina looks up, warm brown eyes meeting mine.

Feeling like a creepy fucker for staring, I drop into my seat.

“Are you ready to begin takeoff?” the attendant, Rachel, asks me.

I shake my head. “No, we’re waiting for something.”

“Oh.” She blinks, as if confused. Probably because I never delay, not for anything. “Okay.”

Across the aisle, Fisher guffaws, the sound far too loud for the small cabin.

“What?” My hackles rise.

“Nothing. Not a thing,” my so-called best friend says, going for serious but unable to hold back a snort.

It isn’t long before Pete himself strides across the tarmac to the plane. I hop up and jog down the stairs, meeting him on the ground.

“Sorry about that.” He holds out a paper bag, the top of it folded over. “He’s been taken care of, Mr. Baker.”

---