Page 82 of Secret Mission

As we walk toward the exit, my mind keeps circling back to a single, terrifying thought: my father found us. Somehow, he knew I'd be here.

"How did he know?" I whisper, more to myself than to the men flanking me.

Justice steps in front of me toward the door. “We should get rid of your things in case they have a tracking device.”

I come to a stop so fast, I almost trip over my own feet. “You mean someone could have put a tracking device in my clothing or my boots and they’d still be working after all the swimming? I thought that was in the movies.”

“It’s a real thing.” Truck glances around from his imposing height. “Hold on. I’ll be back. Justice, guard my girl.”

Justice takes up a protective position as Truck strides away.

“Where do you think he went?”

“The laundry if I had to guess.”

A minute later, he’s back with a piece of cloth gripped in one hand, pushing a wheelchair with a pair of boots on the seat with the other hand. “You’re not going to like this.”

“Please tell me that’s not a hospital gown.”

“Call it a dress.”

I groan. “Not funny. Where did you get the boots?”

“The staff locker room. I think they’ll fit you.”

“Great,” I mutter.

He guides me to a restroom in the lobby. After locking us inside, and positioning Justice outside, he practically tears my clothing off of me.

“Oh, lord!”

I shiver when the cool air conditioning hits my skin—all of my skin.

After stuffing my clothing and my boots into the trash, he shakes out the gown and holds an arm hole up.

“I can’t believe this.”

“It’s only until we get to the farm.”

The walk of shame just got so much worse and superseded by the fact that we are now in shooting distance of my father. Not that he’d shoot me… I think.

I hope.

“Do I have to walk out of here and all the way to the truck, won’t that seem weird?”

“Not when I push you in that wheelchair and you lean over your knees like you’re dying.”

Brilliant man. “I see you have this all thought out.”

He gives a little satisfied chuckle. “I am an expert operative.”

“Thank god, but we still need to talk about the whole stolen boat thing. I’m not finished.”

He steals a kiss as he puts my other arm in the useless piece of fabric.

I snatch the edge out of his hands and wrap the thin cotton around me.

With a glimmer of amusement in his gaze, he looks down at me. “At least it’s not open in the back.”

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