Page 112 of Secret Mission

I say it as much for myself as for him.

He kisses me, cradling my cheek with his hand as he does. It’s so damned tender, I weep.

The tears swell up and burst from my lashes.

“Aww, sweetheart. Don’t cry, please. We have to go.” He brushes my hair back. “I don’t want to leave this house for a year, but something’s going down. We’re wheels up in less than two hours.”

“Flying?”

When I say the word, he flinches. “Yeah. Let me see if I can get something for you to wear besides my clothes.”

He slides me off his lap and stands. This time, he moves away without looking back.

The low light from the bathroom fills the great room when he steps inside. The click of the door echoes through the little house, which has gone too quiet now.

I stay sitting, legs curled below me on the bed as he dresses.

His muscles catch the plays of light, flexing and bunching as he slides on a pair of cargo pants and a black T-shirt that hides none of his muscles.

Silently, he laces his boots. Then he returns to the bedside table for his phone.

Still he doesn’t look at me. While he makes a call, he packs a black duffel bag. Surveying the contents. It’s already packed, except for some extra ammo clips, and some other things I don’t recognize.

“Does Camile have anything Allsion can wear?” he asks someone on the other end.

His strong fingers—ones that were in my mouth, inside of me in other secret places only hours ago—make quick work of zipping the bag.

The gulf between us grows, filling with chilled air.

He returns to the bathroom, scavenging something from the drawers. Filling his cargo pockets until someone knocks on the door.

There’s a murmured exchange when he steps outside. Too low for me to hear, but it doesn’t sound good from the tones.

Or Truck’s tone, at least.

When he returns, he’s got a change of clothes in his hand. “Beast brought these to you. Camile said these should fit.”

I stretch and stand, unsteady inside, even if my feet are firm on the ground. “Will you tell me what’s going on?”

He hesitates. Looks down at me from his incredible height, and it hits me.

Truck is in warrior mode.

My heart sinks.

“Where are we going?” My tone trembles, my fingers digging into the clothes he handed me.

“To Oregon.”

“Why?” I blurt.

“We’re going to break into your father’s house.”

I stumble back. “Wait. We are?”

The pulse in my neck is skipping, my body coming alive like I’ve been jolted with electricity. “Where is he?”

He grunts. The narrow gaze pinning me hardening even more. “Here in Vandemora.”