Zander gets back, you can talk to him about the work his team has done for some of our clients. Get a referral.”
So this was what Eric was mad about. “Bridget’s business has something to do with the CIA, but is not the CIA?”
What on earth had she gotten into after she left Last Chance? This whole thing was turning out to be a whole lot more serious—and complicated—than he’d originally thought.
“It’s complicated.”
“No kidding.”
Millie shot him a look. “You of all people know Bridget is different than everyone else. But the fact is, she is one of my best people. If anyone can figure out how to turn the tables on Clarke, it’s her.”
“And if he wants her for something other than her password? Something more, maybe?”
Millie gaped. “Oh, no.”
“What does he want with her?”
“It doesn’t matter. He won’t get it, no matter how much he tries. No matter how bad this gets.”
Millie’s husband lifted his hand and held hers.
“There is nothing he can do that will convince Bridget to give him what he wants.”
Aiden wished he could be as sure as she was. The truth seemed to lead him down a different path. Millie considered Bridget to be someone who always put the job first, someone who would never allow her personal feelings to cloud her judgment or cause her to not make the right choice.
Eric studied him. “What are you thinking?”
Aiden shook his head, too full of a million thoughts to voice any of them. “I’ll let her know I talked to you guys, and that you’re okay.”
“She’s okay too, right?”
“I’m going to find out.”
If she wasn’t, Aiden would figure out a way to help her until her life had righted itself. That meant keeping Sydney safe. And doing it in a way Clarke wouldn’t be able to use her as leverage to get Bridget to do what he wanted.
And that meant he couldn’t tell her that Sydney was the baby she thought had died.
But how could he not tell her?
Fourteen
“I know, baby.” The soft voice drifted to Bridget’s awareness, a man. “That sounds like fun.” After a short pause he said, “I love you, too.”
The low, smooth tone was like a balm. Only it didn’t work like medicine. Instead, it intrigued her. As much as it settled within her a sense of peace. She wanted to smile while she heard more of it. That would be better than waking to this stiffness alone. Not pain, as such. But she wasn’t looking forward to having to move.
“Hey.” The voice was closer now.
Bridget blinked against harsh fluorescents.
“There you are.” Weight settled on the edge of the bed, and a warm palm covered the back of her hand. “You were out for a while. Guess you needed the rest.”
“How long?” She tried to swallow around the dryness of her mouth.
Aiden shifted and then held out a cup. She sipped from the straw. “Thanks.”
“You were asleep for nearly sixteen hours.”
Bridget braced to sit up.
“Whoa.” He touched her shoulders, gave her a gentle squeeze, and then let go. “Easy. Don’t move too fast.”
“I need to get out of here.”
“Why?”
Bridget had to think about that. The urge to flee was a primal response, but was there anywhere she had to be right now? What she needed was information. “Run down what you know.” She figured if it sounded like an order, he might forget he didn’t work for her. “Millie. Eric—” She remembered then that her boss’s husband had been shot. “Sasha. The phone.”
“What phone?”
“Clarke’s phone.” He didn’t know about the phone?
Aiden shook his head. “What about Clarke’s phone?”
“You don’t have it?”
“No. Do you?”
“Maybe. Find my things.”
Aiden said, “First, update. Eric is fine…if you call super cranky fine. Because Mr. Special Agent is not happy he just found out his wife has been lying about her job for years.”
“Uh-oh.”
“They’ll figure it out. He’s just in pain and irritable, plus the hurt feelings.”
“Is Millie okay?”
“She’s worried about you. Everyone’s out looking for this guy. Millie gave us his photo so the police can be on the lookout for Clarke.”
Memories swirled in her mind and she winced. Tackling Clarke into the bathtub. Getting hit by her own stun gun and falling to the floor. That was when her fingers had found his phone before she lost consciousness for a few seconds. Discarded—or dropped—Bridget had grabbed the phone and slid it into…
She sat up suddenly. “My jacket.”
“You need me to get it?”
She nodded. “Front right pocket.” As soon as he turned away, she sat up. It