figure out quickly whose house had been attacked.
My secret was out. And there was no going back.
Chapter Five
Friday, January 5. 2019
Our Black Hawk touched down at the Los Angeles International Airport, but media had already arrived. The dormant facility’s skeleton crew couldn’t keep out the swarm of incoming press, and we were forced to take off again immediately to avoid the circus. Not even the adjacent Air Force base was safe from cameramen and rabid reporters.
The pilot called back, “We’re heading southeast. We’ll outrace those bloodsuckers across the city.”
I shot him a thumbs-up.
“I flew you last October, sir,” he said. He grinned over his shoulder at me. The helmet visor was down so we only saw his nose and mouth. “Over the Pacific, up to the Greyhound. Special Agent Anderson and I, we make a good team.”
I yelled, “Then I know we’re in good hands.”
“I’ll fly you anywhere, sir!”
“Careful what you wish for.”
“Name’s Mike Matthews.” He jerked a thumb at himself. “The Outlaw’s personal pilot!”
His enthusiasm surprised me. One reason I wore the mask was because I assumed I’d lose everyone’s respect when they saw my face and my youth. But Mike Matthews looked straight at Chase Jackson with unabated trust. That was reassuring. As if reading my thoughts, Katie nudged me and winked.
Anderson was on his phone the entire time, updating us with a hand over the receiver.
He told Katie, “Highway Patrol is escorting your mother to her sister’s. They’ll both be taken to a safe house near San Diego.”
“Thank you,” Katie said. She visibly unclenched, some of the stress draining out of her. Her eyes vacantly watched the palm trees below as wind tossed strands of her hair.
“Outlaw, we have a police detail staying with your father. He refuses to leave active duty, but he’ll start sleeping at the station.”
Samantha Gear sniffed her approval. She was texting with Carter and PuckDaddy.
Anderson continued, “He’s seen pictures of your destroyed house. He says you’re grounded.”
We all laughed. Especially Samantha.
But it wasn’t true. The days of being grounded were over. Chase Jackson was no longer a high school student. This helicopter would fly where I ordered, and everyone aboard would blindly follow my lead.
The blind leading the blind.
What would I do now?
Katie. She’d always been my north star. Keeping her safe, my priority. But she’d reject that now. She possessed an innate sense of right and wrong, of justice, and she’d never allow herself to be a distraction.
Her fingers found mine and squeezed. Samantha quit texting, crossed over to our side of the gunner bay and squeezed next to Katie, pinning her between us. “Now what, Outlaw?”
I shrugged. “McDonalds? I haven’t had breakfast yet.”
Katie pinched me. “Be serious.”
“He is,” Samantha said. “Our bodies burn calories at a murderous rate. He and I will go into shock soon unless we eat.”
“What fascinating monsters you are,” Katie commented. “I wish I could cook for you.”
Anderson had apparently been listening in the middle of orchestrating a symphony through his cellphone and his two radios. He held one to his mouth and said, “Anyone got eyes on a McDonalds? Special request for breakfast sandwiches.”
“And coffee.”
“And chocolate donuts.”
Katie said, “And yogurt and granola. … what?? I don’t need all those additives. Wearing tight pajamas on a helicopter requires dietary sacrifices.”
“You are quite eye-catching,” Samantha agreed, inspecting Katie’s outfit and then her own. Samantha wore cargo pants, a shoulder holster, and her black shirt was splattered with blood. “I’m as attractive as a garbageman in this.”
“Not true,” Katie protested. “You’re so fit, you’d look good wearing actual garbage. I wish I could take video of all this. It’d be Instagram gold.”
Anderson ordered food while I retrieved
My secret was out. And there was no going back.
Chapter Five
Friday, January 5. 2019
Our Black Hawk touched down at the Los Angeles International Airport, but media had already arrived. The dormant facility’s skeleton crew couldn’t keep out the swarm of incoming press, and we were forced to take off again immediately to avoid the circus. Not even the adjacent Air Force base was safe from cameramen and rabid reporters.
The pilot called back, “We’re heading southeast. We’ll outrace those bloodsuckers across the city.”
I shot him a thumbs-up.
“I flew you last October, sir,” he said. He grinned over his shoulder at me. The helmet visor was down so we only saw his nose and mouth. “Over the Pacific, up to the Greyhound. Special Agent Anderson and I, we make a good team.”
I yelled, “Then I know we’re in good hands.”
“I’ll fly you anywhere, sir!”
“Careful what you wish for.”
“Name’s Mike Matthews.” He jerked a thumb at himself. “The Outlaw’s personal pilot!”
His enthusiasm surprised me. One reason I wore the mask was because I assumed I’d lose everyone’s respect when they saw my face and my youth. But Mike Matthews looked straight at Chase Jackson with unabated trust. That was reassuring. As if reading my thoughts, Katie nudged me and winked.
Anderson was on his phone the entire time, updating us with a hand over the receiver.
He told Katie, “Highway Patrol is escorting your mother to her sister’s. They’ll both be taken to a safe house near San Diego.”
“Thank you,” Katie said. She visibly unclenched, some of the stress draining out of her. Her eyes vacantly watched the palm trees below as wind tossed strands of her hair.
“Outlaw, we have a police detail staying with your father. He refuses to leave active duty, but he’ll start sleeping at the station.”
Samantha Gear sniffed her approval. She was texting with Carter and PuckDaddy.
Anderson continued, “He’s seen pictures of your destroyed house. He says you’re grounded.”
We all laughed. Especially Samantha.
But it wasn’t true. The days of being grounded were over. Chase Jackson was no longer a high school student. This helicopter would fly where I ordered, and everyone aboard would blindly follow my lead.
The blind leading the blind.
What would I do now?
Katie. She’d always been my north star. Keeping her safe, my priority. But she’d reject that now. She possessed an innate sense of right and wrong, of justice, and she’d never allow herself to be a distraction.
Her fingers found mine and squeezed. Samantha quit texting, crossed over to our side of the gunner bay and squeezed next to Katie, pinning her between us. “Now what, Outlaw?”
I shrugged. “McDonalds? I haven’t had breakfast yet.”
Katie pinched me. “Be serious.”
“He is,” Samantha said. “Our bodies burn calories at a murderous rate. He and I will go into shock soon unless we eat.”
“What fascinating monsters you are,” Katie commented. “I wish I could cook for you.”
Anderson had apparently been listening in the middle of orchestrating a symphony through his cellphone and his two radios. He held one to his mouth and said, “Anyone got eyes on a McDonalds? Special request for breakfast sandwiches.”
“And coffee.”
“And chocolate donuts.”
Katie said, “And yogurt and granola. … what?? I don’t need all those additives. Wearing tight pajamas on a helicopter requires dietary sacrifices.”
“You are quite eye-catching,” Samantha agreed, inspecting Katie’s outfit and then her own. Samantha wore cargo pants, a shoulder holster, and her black shirt was splattered with blood. “I’m as attractive as a garbageman in this.”
“Not true,” Katie protested. “You’re so fit, you’d look good wearing actual garbage. I wish I could take video of all this. It’d be Instagram gold.”
Anderson ordered food while I retrieved
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