Page 97 of Covert Mission

“Only when we need to be.”

Whatever that means.

I shrug off my backpack and place it on the floor. With a frustrated huff, I sit on the chair and cross one leg over the other so I can swing my foot furiously. If I don’t, I’m going to bite not only my fingernails, but my entire fingers off.

“Better?” I ask grumpily.

“Much. Thank you. Why don’t you tell me why you’re lying about who you are?”

Uh. My foot stops swinging. That’s not the only thing that stops. It feels like all bodily functions inside me have gone on furlough.

Truck angles his head. This man looks like he could watch paint dry until some answer he’s seeking is given.

Damn it. Lucas isn’t the only one doing an interrogation. It seems that I’ve found myself in another hot seat.

“Start at the beginning.”

Oh no. No. Period.No.I’m not telling Truck anything.

He just looks at me. Those eyes of his are like calm, deep blue lakes. The kind of places where the Loch Ness monster might choose to lurk.

Now I really feel like not only am I unraveling, but I’m shredding into tiny fibers that will soon be a pile of dust bunnies on the floor.

All while he watches.

I try to steady my breathing.

Please let someone show up and save me from whatever disaster is lurking—whatever chaos is about to unfold next. Because it’s coming. My barometer is falling, a sure sign of an incoming hurricane.

SEALs are experienced interrogators.

Truck has the look of a man who won’t stop until he squeezes blood out of a rock.

The slope I’m on feels dangerous and slick, like I’m hurtling toward saying one wrong thing that will drag Lucas and his men even farther into something that I cannot talk about.

Truck watches me suffer, until he calmly says, “Take a few deep breaths.”

I blink at him and frown. “Why do I feel like I’m being hypnotized?”

He chuckles mirthlessly. “I’m just trying to keep you from popping an aneurysm. Beast wouldn’t be too happy with me if that happened. I’m responsible for your well-being while you’re with me.”

“Accusing me of lying isn’t a good way to do that.”

Doing everything I can to avoid his eyes, I look down at my hands. That feels safer. Like he’s not reading my mind.

Lord, the man is the master of long, painful silences. Actually, he and Lucas must have contests to see who’s better at torture without saying anything.

When I can’t take it any longer, a stream of words tumble out of me. “Look, Truck, I’m sorry that you guys have all gotten caught up in this. It’s a mess that you should not have to deal with. I know you have a job to do and babysitting me isn’t part of that.”

Truck studies me. Does the man ever blink? God, he must buy Visine by the case.

“What are you caught up in?”

I shrug stiffly because my cells are quitting one by one. Yep, dying inside. “I don’t even know.”

I suspect.

But I don’t know. I can feel his eyes punching holes in me as I sit here twisting my hands together.

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