Expired Getaway (Last Chance County #7) - Lisa Phillips Page 0,101

it up.”

Aiden prayed the whole time as he waited for Millie to get him what he needed. Meanwhile, Enrico’s driver pursued the chopper by first heading for the highway and then turning east, following signposts in conjunction with his phone’s maps app.

Soon Aiden was out of things to pray for, and Millie still hadn’t come back. “Can we crack a window or something?”

Enrico twisted in his chair and brought up his gun.

Aiden should have compassion for their souls—or something like that—and be inclined to pray for them. Maybe he should even take this time to evangelize before they murdered him. But Aiden just didn’t have that in him right now. Not when Bridget was in danger, his daughter might lose them both, and he had no way to take down four guys on his own.

He was outmatched, out of options, and out of things to pray for without sounding like a broken record.

“Got it.” Millie’s tone was different now. Guarded.

He hoped she’d heard at least the one voice of someone with him, giving some sort of indication of who he was with. Then again, as long as she got Bridget back, that was all that mattered, right? Sydney could have the parent she’d never gotten to know, and he could hope they would help each other through what happened to him here because of Capeira.

“She’s moving, but not along a road.”

“Chopper,” Aiden said only that one word. Trying not to lose it and break down in front of these guys.

“She’s headed for Denver…” Her voice trailed off. “Zander is calling me. But if she’s going into the city, they could be headed for the accountant’s office.”

He saw Enrico shift. Aiden ignored it. “Wasn’t it destroyed?”

“There’s another issue. But they’d have to…”

Aiden tensed. “Millie.”

He heard someone in the background with her, a low voice. Maybe Eric? She came back. “Denver is also where the server is.”

“And that means what?”

“Get access to that, and you could potentially get your hands on our entire database.” She paused. “But the only way to do that is with two people and, of course, the access code.”

“Okay.” Aiden sighed. How was this supposed to help?

“That’s moot now. I deactivated external access. You can only get to the database from the source. The server.” Millie gasped and then hung up.

Aiden watched the phone illuminate. He felt a little more peace knowing that Millie would do everything in her power to track Bridget down before Capeira’s guys did. The driver punched down on the gas pedal, and they sped up. It was going to take time to get to the building where the server was located if it was in Denver. By then, he figured the FBI would be all over that place.

Tactical. Snipers. Their whole armed division, HRT—the Hostage Rescue Team that was their SWAT division. Aiden approved of all of that.

Enrico patted the shoulder of the driver. He pulled off.

“Where are we—”

The guy beside him reached for the back of Aiden’s head.

He ducked out of the way and smacked into the guy on the other side of him. “Okay. Okay, chill.”

Enrico chuckled.

They pulled off the highway and headed for a ranch out in the middle of nowhere. Beside the barn was a small plane.

“Vamanos.” Enrico shoved his door open. “Bring the dead cop walking with us.”

Aiden was pulled from the car and shoved into the plane.

Dead cop walking?

That didn’t sound good at all.

Thirty-four

Bridget stumbled and nearly fell. “You need an access code to get the data from the server.”

Clarke hauled her along with a bruising grip on her arm. The one he’d grazed with a bullet only days ago—though that felt like weeks now. The night Aiden hit her with his police car.

“Your plan has flaws.”

Clarke pushed open the front door to the office building while he chuckled low to himself. About what, she didn’t know.

“That’s all I’m saying.” She planned on being belligerent right up until she figured out exactly how she was going to stop him.

She needed a screwdriver.

And a lighter.

Not necessarily in that order.

“Hey!” A uniformed security guard stood up from behind his reception desk. “You can’t—”

She knew what was about to happen. Bridget saw it coming. “No—” Too late. Clarke lifted his gun and squeezed off a shot.

Blood blossomed on the security guard’s chest, and he fell back onto the seat of his rolling chair before tumbling to the floor.

Bridget screamed. Either she managed to be louder than she’d thought possible, or there was an echo in here. Whatever the case, she