Page 120 of Secret Mission

I point toward the chopper waiting near the hangars. Ideas galloping through my head. “Think we can get one of those?”

Allison grabs my forearm. “That’s actually my father’s chopper. He’ll take it from here to the estate.”

Justice and I share a glance.

After a silent message passes between us, we both scan our surroundings.

It’s a small airport. No tower. The hanger’s closed up. The whole place is vacant besides that lone helicopter.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” I ask Justice.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Who knew SEALS were such a handful?

My boring life of digging on archeological sites feels like a lifetime ago.

My heart pounds like crazy as we stride across the tarmac.

Justice looks like a kid in a candy shop. Those dark brown eyes of his radiating excitement. He’s laughing when he jogs backward. “Hell, yeah, great minds and all that.”

Truck, on the other hand… looks scary, determined, and the kind of wild that shows me a whole new side of him.

Me? I’m somewhere between terrified and thrilled, and just plain out of my mind.

This is not the old Allison. Gator, Golddigger, GG, Superwoman. Somebody else is filling my skin right now.

She feels reckless and alive. Purely determined to fulfill our crazy mission.

A surge of pure adrenaline races through me propelling me into a skipping jog.

“I hope one of you is a good pilot.”

“Fucking hell,” Truck yells as he stalks behind us, a literal force of destruction with a thundercloud darkening the light around him.

He rounds the chopper, opens the door, and climbs in.

Justice opens the back door for me.

“Don’t they lock these things?” I puzzle as he helps me up. “You didn’t even have to break in.”

“They didn’t expect anyone to take it. Pilot’s probably inside taking a leak or something.”

My eyes go wide as Truck flips switches, expertly reaching here and there, and mechanical things start to hum to life.

The man continues to impress me. In every way.

“You know how to fly?” I can’t keep the awe out of my voice.

He cuts a glance at me, with a small headshake. “We both do. But I’m not trusting your life to bozo over there. He flies like he drives.”

Justice scoffs. “Remember the last time you were flying us, you?—”

Truck shoves a finger into Justice’s jugular. “Enough! Keep your mouth shut, or I’ll tape it.”

Justice snickers as the rotor begins to turn. But he doesn’t finish his story, he’s busy going through some kind of checklist with Truck.

Having flown in a few choppers—including this one once when my father sent it to pick me up for a meeting—I know to put on my headset.

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