Page 47 of The Surrogate Omega, Part Two

Not caring who sees, I walk up to Lake and wrap him in my arms. “Hi, sweetheart.”

I feel him relax, and though it’s hard to hear because of the wind, I swear he inhales my scent. “Hi. Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, Lake.”

Lake lifts his head from my shoulder to look at Logan. “Come on, we must get going. I’ll explain everything on the plane.”

Lake turns to walk onto the miniature death trap, but before he takes a step, I stop him by grabbing his wrist.

“Wait,you’regoing on that thing too?”

Lake tilts his head in confusion. “Yes? That’s the quickest way to South Carolina. We don’t have any time to waste.”

“Are you even allowed to fly?” I know I’m grasping at straws, but I don’t want my mates on that plane. Especially Lake, since he’s carrying.

Lake purses the lips. “According to my doctors, it’s perfectly safe for me to travel by plane until I’m thirty-six weeks pregnant. That certainly may change, but as of now, I have my doctors’ permission.”

Logan squeezes my shoulder. “Let it go, babe. We’re travelling on that plane.”

I grunt but don’t argue anymore. After all, I’m willingly about to go to some island inhabited by a bunch of traffickers, but I’m afraid of the plane? If I’m going to do this, I just got to do it. No matter what.

Lake’s eyes are bouncing from Logan to me. He’s probably trying to understand what I’m yammering about. Logan squeezes Lake’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s get going. And I need some information, Little Bird.”

Lake sucks in a sharp breath. “Yes, ok. Let’s go.”

I don’t feel any better once I’m inside the plane. I don’t really consider myself claustrophobic, but now I’m questioning it. They don’t have a plane bigger than this? This is never how secret agents fly in the movies.

Lake tilts his head, watching me. “I’m not a secret agent . . .”

Cheeks heated, I smile sheepishly at my man. “Did I just say that out loud?”

“Yes. And besides those movies being highly unrealistic, I’m not actually a field agent. And this isn’t a sanctioned mission. Anyone who’s helping is doing so voluntarily and is well aware of the risks.”

Gods. I’m silent as I try to comprehend Lake’s words. The pilot comes in, introduces himself, and says a few words to Lake, but I’m not really listening. I guess I wasn’t considering the impact this mission may have on everyone involved. I also don’t think I realized exactly how entailed it would be. But as I sort of listen to Lake tell Logan about the twelve children and the undercover agents that need to get off the island before they essentially blow up the damn thing, I realize the scale of this unauthorized operation and what these people are risking for this.

Unless I end up in jail, I’m personally not risking much. I won’t be part of the rescue. My job and reputation are not on the line because I’m not following orders. Of course, I’m terrified for my men, but my risk is minimal compared to many of these people. These undercover agents will have their covers blown after this. They’ll be “dead” and all those years of work that they had dedicated their lives to will be gone. I’m blown away and so impressed by everyone here, especially my mates. They are willingly defying orders and essentially the U.S. government to do what they believe is right, despite potential consequences.

Logan is right about one thing: despite my concerns about the plane, we do arrive in South Carolina quickly. We’re staying at a small beach house right off the coast that I guess is one of the men’s safe houses. This will be home base where Lake and one other guy, who he introduced as Donnelly, will be working. I guess he’s the one who notified Lake to begin with, and I found out later that he and Lake had quite an argument about his involvement, but Donnelly insisted, and eventually Lake gave in. Those going to the island are also here and will leave from this base.

Once everyone is inside and settled, Lake goes off to get set up and do his thing, leaving Logan and me alone with another agent. She’s fairly young and is currently scouring the old kitchen cabinets.

“What are you looking for?” I ask her, curious but also looking for a distraction. She seems small for a field agent, maybe 5’3” or 5’4”, and slim. But I know better than to judge a book by its cover. She’s wearing the same black utility pants and long-sleeve black shirt the other field agents are, along with black boots. Her blonde hair is slicked back in a perfect ponytail, and she seems comfortable in her skin and position, despite her age and size.

She doesn’t look at me as she continues rummaging. “Something to cook for everyone. I’ve done some missions with Lake before. He forgets to eat and that we need to eat. I know some of the guys prefer to work on an empty stomach, but that never works for me. You never know when the mission you’re on will be your last. If I’m going down, I at least want to know I had a good meal beforehand.”

I grin, relaxing for the first time since Lake ran out of my dad’s hours ago. “You’re a woman after my own heart.” I stand and head toward her. “Do you mind if I help? I have nothing else to do and it’ll keep my mind off everything.”

The woman finally turns to me, her smile bright. “Sure! I’d love your help.” She holds out a hand to me. “I’m Heather.”I’m kind of shocked she introduced herself, especially with her real name. She’s the first one.

I return her shake. “Nice to meet you. I’m Ev.”

“C’mon, I saw a few boxes of spaghetti and cans of sauce. It’s not exactly the meal of the gods, but I think we can work something out.”

“I’d love that. I always cook when I’m stressed.”

Heather and I make a good team as we make our way through the kitchen, trying to put together a decent meal for everyone before the mission. There’s a couple packages of ground meat and some eggs in the fridge, and Heather digs up a can of breadcrumbs. So, as she boils the water and prepares the pasta, I make some quick meatballs. I would prefer to make a sauce from scratch and have some fresh garlic, but I think this will work. I won’t be able to cook them in the sauce because of time constraints, so I throw them in the oven to get them started.

We’re chatting and cooking amicably when I feel a hand on my shoulder. I don’t need to turn around to know that it’s Logan.

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