with their happy lives.
She shook her head.
More relief moved through him than he was expecting. “But the fire chief?”
“He’s dead. Like I said.” She shifted her weight from one boot to the other, but what arrested him was the look on her face. Strength and vulnerability. Stubbornness and weakness. She was a puzzle he couldn’t figure out.
The fact he even wanted to was the worst part.
After what she’d done to him? No. She didn’t deserve him softening toward her. Trying to understand why she’d left him alone to be a single dad, lying, and then having someone tell him she was dead.
Bridget sighed. She moved to the computer. “He was looking something up. Hopefully we distracted him before he was able to find out whatever it was.”
“We need to talk.”
“I can’t read you in on this. Not without authorization.”
“What’s going on?”
She shook her head again. “Clarke is dangerous. I need to know who he’s working for, or if he’s acting independently. And I need to know who his target is. When he left me for dead, I figured I was the target, but there’s something bigger at play here, and I don’t know what.”
She shook the mouse and the monitor hummed to life. “Why did you come here?”
“To ask Tate to find you. Have him run your alias. See what I could find.”
Instead, he’d found her. Before she split—something he could see she wanted to do—he needed answers.
Aiden continued, “I didn’t realize he was on vacation, but when I found the door busted open, I figured somebody was up to no good.” But Bridget didn’t answer. Her attention was on Tate’s computer screen.
“Is that west of town?” Her brows bent toward each other.
Aiden rounded the desk. Standing close was a bad idea, considering her perfume caught in his nose in a way that got his attention. He pushed aside the distracting sensations of her presence right next to him and looked at the screen. A map had loaded, the dot marking the center of a forest.
“That’s a cabin.” The one Kaylee and Stuart had stayed in.
“Whose is it?”
“Her name is Victoria Bramlyn. Some kind of government director. She’s retired, though. As far as I’d heard.”
“Millie.”
“What?”
She straightened and turned to him. That was when he realized exactly how close they were standing. Her nose flared. “I have to go.”
“We need to talk, Bridge.”
“Don’t.” She shook her head. “Millie is in danger.”
He could help her, if she let him. Problem was, he didn’t think she would. “I’ll come and help. Frees too.”
“I have to do this alone.”
Aiden couldn’t hold back the question burning in him. “You’re not even going to mention our child?”
How could she not ask about Sydney?
Bridget’s head jerked back as though he’d slapped her. “You know about our baby?”
Of course he did. What was she thinking? Before he could ask, she cut him off.
Bridget took a step back, and away. The fear that made her flee was there in her eyes again. “She’s dead. What is there to say?”
A second later, she was gone.
Eleven
Millie Cullings rolled over in bed and snuggled up to her husband.
“We should take naps more often.”
She chuckled. “Except for the fact you’re a busy FBI agent, and we have two boys who are definitely not the ‘napping’ kind. And haven’t been for a long time.”
Their boys were eight and ten, precocious and smart enough to get into real trouble when they tried—and when they figured out how to join forces.
His chest rumbled under her cheek as he laughed. Eric traced his hand up and down the back of his shirt—which she wore. “Guess we’ll just have to take more vacations then.”
“If you’re after a life where the impending change is more sleep and not less, you made the wrong choice.” She smiled against his bare chest.
He tugged her up so her face was level with his. “I most certainly did not.”
“You still look exhausted.”
He grinned. “No regrets.”
Millie wanted to agree with him. Instead, her head filled with all that was happening right now. Clarke. Bridget. Even Sasha was in danger as she worked things on her end. Millie thanked God their boys were on vacation and nowhere near this.
Who knew what kind of chaos was going to kick off. No point even trying to believe it might not happen. Not when things always seemed to get worse before they got better.
But yet there was more, even beyond all the stuff with the company.
Millie’s phone buzzed across the top of the bedside table.
“Ignore it.”
She planned to,