Expired Getaway (Last Chance County #7) - Lisa Phillips Page 0,104

ignite and held tight as she swung it at his face. Clarke cried out and fell to the side. Bridget sucked in a few free breaths, then rolled and scrambled to her feet. Each inhale felt like trying to drag a thousand pounds toward her. She found a few bundles of paper and set more fires randomly around the room, so it burned as evenly and thoroughly as possible.

Then she went back to where she’d left Clarke—

He was gone.

“Yes, police? I need the police!”

She ran to the office where he had the desk phone to his ear.

“My coworker kidnapped me! She’s trying to steal our company’s sensitive data and destroy the backups!” His gaze came to hers, calculated and determined. He gasped a few times to work up hyperventilation, making it sound like he was scared. “I think she’s going to kill me and make it look like I did it!”

He lifted the gun and fired it at her.

Bridget dove out of the way and hit the floor. She tried to blink and get her thoughts into a semblance of order. He planned to blame all this on her. She ran for the exit door.

If she could just get out of here before the police showed up, she’d be fine. It would be her word against his, and she had no proof. Just hearsay. She reached for the door.

He slammed into her back.

Her cheek smashed against the door and she cried out. His hot breath brushed her ear and his body pressed hard against hers, bruising her hip bones on the door. “Not so fast.”

He hauled her back and pressed the gun to her temple.

On the other side of the glass, three men stood. Enrico, one of his guys.

And Aiden.

Clarke’s arm banded around her middle. “No one comes in, or I kill her!”

Thirty-five

His eyes drank her in. Maybe that was hokey, but who could blame him? It had been hours since the last time Aiden had seen her. He couldn’t decipher whatever it was that Clarke was saying because of the thick glass. But it didn’t look good, the way Clarke held a gun pointed at Bridget’s head.

Both had most definitely been in a fight recently. With each other, if he wanted to take an easy guess. She’d gotten some good licks in. And given the server room was on fire, he also figured Bridget was aiming for complete destruction.

As long as that didn’t include the loss of her own life, he was okay with it. Sydney needed to meet her mother. If Bridget died here, he wouldn’t be able to bring himself to even tell her that her mother had been in Last Chance. Much less, alive. It would be cruel to expect her to understand that level of unfairness.

Bridget needed to live so he didn’t have to keep that secret from his child. As if he needed just one more reason to keep Bridget alive.

That guy had better not hurt her any further. Aiden realized he’d started to let out a frustrated growl. He needed to get ahold of himself, or he would do something reactive and the consequences wouldn’t be good.

Beside him, Enrico started to chuckle. His man’s grip on Aiden’s bicep pressed on the tendon on the inside of his arm and started to numb his fingers. Aiden winced and tried to shift the man’s grip. It didn’t help.

Enrico moved to the control panel beside the door, hit a button and strode back so he could see through the window. A rushing sound emerged from a speaker, set high in the wall. “You think I’ll care if you kill her?”

Clarke’s gaze shifted from Enrico to Aiden and the man next to him. Erratically, as though he was scrambling to figure out what to do. Bridget, on the other hand, had an emotional mask over her expression. She looked cold. Calculating.

Aiden knew the cold façade she put on wasn’t the truth. It was what she used to hide behind. A skill learned so she could deal with her father. And the aftermath of her mother being killed by her mom’s boyfriend. The day she’d fled town. The years she’d worked with Sasha and Millie. Dating Clarke. Coping with the loss of her daughter. Or, so she’d thought.

The only person she showed the truth was Aiden. Seeing him again these last few days made it clearer to both of them.

Clarke didn’t back down. He held the gun against Bridget’s ear, his other arm across her waist. “You’ll never