Expired Getaway (Last Chance County #7) - Lisa Phillips Page 0,18

life, was otherwise bland and unoriginal.

“Is there someone I can call for you?”

She shook her head just a little bit. Though she could call Millie, her boss, since they were in Millie’s hometown—also Bridget’s hometown. Though, doing so could cause problems or raise questions she couldn’t give a good answer for. “Where are my things? My phone?”

“Right here.” The nurse lifted a paper bag with its top rolled down and set it beside Bridget’s hip.

“Thank you.”

“I’m sure the doctor will be right in.” The nurse turned back at the door. “Oh, and the police will likely want to speak with you about what happened.”

“The police?”

The nurse nodded. “Because it was one of their officers who hit you with his car. The young one, not the superhot one with the stripes on his shoulders.”

Bridget blinked.

“Probably not professional for me to say that, but I’m not wrong. Am I right?” The nurse chuckled, apparently not requiring an answer. “Sit tight. Hit the button if you need anything.”

The door shut.

Bridget tore open the paper bag and dug for her phone. The clothes she’d been wearing were in shreds. Likely from being cut off her. She lifted the collar of the hospital gown with one hand and the blanket with the other and looked down at the state of her body.

And winced.

Maybe she had been given pain killers, and apparently they were doing their job, if how she felt was any indication. Because given how she looked—bruises and road rash mostly—she should be feeling way worse. When they wore off, she’d probably be extremely stiff and sore.

Bridget squeezed her eyes shut. The dark of her father’s yard filled her mind. Butch, and his sniffs. The car that had pulled up with Clarke inside.

And the muzzle flash.

Her father, falling back to the ground.

Yet more tragedy in her not-so-long, tragic life. Another blood relative lost.

Bridget set a hand low on her stomach. I’m sorry, baby.

She couldn’t seem to keep those she loved safe. Nor could she keep safe the members of her family she had an obligation to love, but didn’t. Her father hadn’t loved her either, so that was mutual. Didn’t matter though. Love or the absence of it didn’t matter. It had no power to do anything except make her stupid.

Decisions. Actions. All of it was called into question when feelings clouded her judgment.

Now she would have to bury her father, too. If he was dead. Or had the old ox survived? That would be just perfect. He was exactly ornery enough to survive what would kill most anyone else.

Clarke had made his point, so he wouldn’t need to come back and finish the job. But her father would still be in danger.

Bridget would continue to kill the people around her—not purposely, of course. But they seemed to die just the same.

She unlocked her phone and called Millie’s number.

“Cullings.” The voice that answered the phone belonged to a male.

“I think you picked up your wife’s phone, Mr. Cullings. Or should I say, Special Agent Cullings?” Bridget managed a short laugh while she prayed there wouldn’t be any hospital noises in the background she’d have to explain. It needed to sound like she could actually be in the office. “I have a quick question for Millie about the Penderton account.”

“Mill, one of your colleagues is on the phone.”

Bridget waited for her boss.

“Thank you.” Millie’s voice made her sag back against the pillow, but Bridget still said nothing. “Hello?”

“It’s me.” To her consternation, tears filled Bridget’s eyes. She blinked against them as she explained about Clarke. The gunshot and how the cop hit her with his car, all the way to the present, how she’d woken up in the hospital.

“Hang on. I’ll get my laptop.”

Bridget heard a door shut.

“Are you okay?” Millie’s voice jumped an octave. “Bridget, this is crazy!”

“Clarke is here. I think I need Sasha. I don’t want to pull you in, given this is your town. But Sasha could help.”

Bridget would feel a lot better with backup by her side. Someone like Sasha, who could remind her what was at stake. Why she couldn’t let this town, or her emotions, cause her to do something she wouldn’t have done otherwise.

Sasha, the only one of them to have been Millie’s employee at the time, was the one who’d broken the news to her that her baby had died. It was moments after she’d given birth, while their company doctor worked to stop Bridget’s bleeding. So much had gone wrong that day. The complications were