Expired Getaway (Last Chance County #7) - Lisa Phillips Page 0,19

just part of it.

Then Sasha had disappeared for days, but Bridget had been too focused on her own grief to ask why. Thankfully, Millie had stayed with her long enough to offer Bridget a permanent job as soon as she recovered. Not just a position at the accountant’s office, continuing as a receptionist, but the chance to train as an operative. To learn how to be strong so that she would never have to suffer ever again.

It had seemed fitting to be reborn, in a way, the day her baby girl had died. A way to honor her.

Millie cleared her throat. “I’ve been out of the game way too long. I’m freaking out.”

“You’re a mom.” Bridget had to swallow the lump in her throat just to get the words out. “And you just had a happy Christmas with your husband and your boys back in your hometown. Naturally you wouldn’t think something like this would land on radar in your backyard.”

“The boys are headed to Hawaii with Savannah and Tate tomorrow. They’ll be gone until after the new year.” Millie paused. “I might have to tell Eric everything if this gets worse.”

Bridget didn’t know how much worse Millie needed it to get, but she also didn’t want Millie to ruin her marriage. Keeping secrets the way Millie had wasn’t what Bridget would’ve done. No one wanted to play the part in every aspect of their life, including the most intimate.

Even so, Bridget didn’t want her to blow their whole cover. “Just hang on, okay? It might not come to that.”

“The cops will want a statement.” Millie’s tone turned to one of all business.

“Can you sign me out of here?” Bridget needed help. Not her boss freaking out. It might be justified, but until Bridget was completely alone—and safe—she had to hold her reaction back. Otherwise, everything would get even worse.

“Sign yourself out.” Millie paused. “Can you walk?”

“I’ll make it. I just want to get back to the townhouse.”

“I’ll get you a car, have it in the parking lot. Keys in the glove box. This is what you do, right?”

“As long as Clarke isn’t waiting for me.”

“He doesn’t know about the safe house. It’s clean, okay?”

“You’re sure?”

“A hundred percent.” Millie sounded certain. “But the cops here know me. And they’ll figure out who you are eventually.”

“No, they won’t.” That was impossible, right?

Bridget didn’t know anyone on the police force in town. Not personally. It had been six years since she’d walked the highway out of town, beat up and bleeding. The night she’d witnessed a horrific crime and her father had responded with violence, as though it was her fault for seeing what she never should have.

Millie had seen her walking and picked her up.

After two weeks of recovery Bridget had discovered she was pregnant.

Millie had offered to find the father and tell him, but what was the point? It wasn’t like it’d been a great love affair. No, they were two seventeen-year-olds bent on having summer fun, despite how it had felt to walk away from him. Didn’t mean they were good for each other, especially when both of them wound up with juvenile records for several misdemeanors.

Much like what happened after, her life up until that point had been nothing but a series of tragedies. She supposed he’d been a spark of light in the middle of everything else. But as with a single star that shone in the night sky, it was quickly swallowed up by the overwhelming darkness. True, both overhead and down here on earth.

One light couldn’t shine bright enough to make a difference.

“We’ll find Clarke.” Millie sounded so sure.

“I think my father might be dead.”

The door to the room opened, and the nurse came back in. A plan to get out of there formed. Bridget pretended she was engrossed in her conversation so she could use it. “He tried to kill me tonight. He’ll come back and finish the job unless I get out of here.”

She hung up on Millie. Didn’t bother to wipe whatever feeling had bled through to her expression. Bridget needed to get out of the hospital, and the nurse was her best bet at getting assistance to do just that.

The nurse moved to the side of the bed. “Girl, you talking about the man who shot you or the cop who hit you with his car?”

Bridget could hardly believe the depth of tragedy that was her bad luck. “The one who shot me.” She let her eyes fill with tears. “I