In Between the Lines

Chapter 23: An Apology Gift

 The Mercedes was like a shadow against the night, black steel blending into the inky sky as it pulled into the lot. As much as I wanted to slow it down, there was nothing I could do against what was to come. The answers that I had promised Dez about the flight but still hadn't quite prepared myself enough for.

Before Lukas could bring the car to a complete stop, Dez was already climbing out of the back seat, rushing toward the hangar's entrance to me. It was close to 8:30 PM by the time my mother had let me know what time the jet would be ready, and I'd called Dez no more than half a second after I found out. There hadn't been time for explanations, only enough time to give him the offer and let him know to start packing—it would be one hour before a driver would be at his house to pick him up.

While Lukas did just that, Ethan drove me to the hangar. Dez was going to know the truth about me soon enough. There was no point in hiding either of my bodyguards anymore.

On the way here, I'd envisioned every possible scenario that might play out once I saw him. What to say when he asked who Lukas was, who my connection to the jet was, or how I'd managed to arrange all of this no more than a few hours after I said goodbye to him at school. And then . . . all of the questions that were sure to follow those. I'd expected some nerves, yes, but I still hadn't anticipated the wave of panic that hit me as Dez approached me now.

That was, until he stopped half a step away, and every question that had burned in his eyes mere seconds ago vanished.

"You've been crying."

My spine locked and my muscles went rigid. With the conversation with my mother draining nearly everything out of me, I hadn't bothered to look at myself before I came—but I knew my eyes were puffy from the tightness I felt with each blink.

I could only think to turn my face away from Dez then, hide any evidence of what the cost had been for tonight's arrangement. But he stepped closer, reaching up with one hand to gently lift my chin so that I had no choice but to meet his stare.

His jaw was tight. "What happened."

I grasped for something—anything to say, but by some miracle, I was saved from whatever mess I was bound to spew as another voice cut in, "You must be the one I owe a big thank you to."

I loosed a breath and turned to my savior.

Like Dez, he was tall, tanned, and had dark chestnut hair—but that was as far as any resemblance between the two went. Handsome in his own right, and yet there was a frigid air to him that, had I not known he was Dez's father, would have made me think they had no relation at all.

He approached with one small suitcase in hand and stopped just within reach of us.

I started, "Hi, Mr. Warren. I'm—"

"Oh, I know perfectly well who you are." Dez's father stole a glance at him. It was brief, but there was something edged in that look that made me hesitate as he reached his hand out to me. "And please, call me George."

With a small nod, I placed my hand in his. He went on, "I don't know how in the world you pulled this off, Lyra, but we really can't thank you enough. I know there's no way we can even begin to repay you, but please at least let me know how much to write on the check. I can't imagine how much this must have cost you—"

"Actually, there's no need. A family friend owns it." I tried my best to keep a calm demeanor while the two words burned like acid in my mouth. Family friend. What a joke.

I continued, "They know that Dez is a close friend of mine, so when I told them that there was an emergency, they didn't ask any questions."

The latter at least was true; my mother didn't ask a single question about it. She didn't care enough to.