Undercover

Chapter 3

My happy beginning was only a dream.

For the record, I'm not a snob. I'm just used to first class. I realized that the FBI didn't feel Olivia was a girl from money so I was placed in coach with everyone else.

I'm not complaining about that. I'm actually fine with flying in coach. However, I will complain about the baby to my right that constantly screamed in my ear or yanked on my newly dyed hair.

Of course the mother apologized, but it was only because it was the polite thing to do. I had to bite my tongue so I didn't tell her how much of a demon her baby was.

Then the guys to my left look like Italian mobsters playing Candy Crush. These guys could make people like me sleep with the fishes and they have the audacity to play Candy Crush.

But that's not what ruined my flight.

What broke the camel's hump was the rude toddler in the seat behind me that ruthlessly kicked the crap out of my seat.

I tried.

I really tried to stay calm. I even practiced my breathing exercises.

But by the end of the flight, I was in plastic handcuffs and escorted to my relatives by homeland security.

I notice them by the gate when we're let off. We had to be the last ones to get off the plane.

Aunt Brenda has red hair pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck. She's wearing an orange flannel with pants cuffed at the ankle. She seems a lot younger than I expected.

Her husband is thin with brown hair and gray streaks fighting for dominance. He has overalls over a blue shirt. He's exactly how I imagined him.

"Thank you, officer." My aunt Brenda tries to smile in a polite manner, but even I could notice her scowl.

Uncle Clint bites back a laugh. When the officer cuts my plastic bondages from my wrists.

I rub them involuntarily. "Thanks, Derick. I hope you have a nice evening."

He rolls his eyes . "Don't make me have to restrain you on another flight, Olivia."

I simply grin. Derick leaves. My aunt and my uncle direct me to baggage claim in silence. I fidget until I grab my bag and follow them out to their truck.

At least that part of my dream was accurate.

We all climb in and sit in silence.

Oh, God.

What if they tell me that I'm too much? What if they want to send me back to Agent Rogan?

In the mist of my pondering, I don't register that Uncle Clint is laughing so hard his face is red and tears pool out from his eyes. I frown.

"Clint, this isn't funny." Aunt Brenda tries to hold back her own laughter as she slaps his arm.

This only makes him laugh more. Soon his infectious laugh travels to everyone in the car.

I'm crying tears.

Aunt Brenda snorts which only made us laugh harder.

My sides start cramping.

"Can you please explain to me what happened?" Aunt Brenda chuckles.

"Well, the kid had it coming." I sober up. "I asked him repeatedly to quit with the kicking. He just kept kicking my seat over and over. I was already irritable because of the wailing abusive baby beside me.

"I even asked his mom to get him to stop, but she shrugged and gave me a look that said 'kids will be kids'."

Uncle Clint tries to control another fit of laughter.