to rub something like that in your face?”
“Zander is the law. I just choose to not always follow it.” She didn’t figure he’d find that too surprising about Zander’s method of working. “Don’t get me wrong, Zander and his team don’t work for Millie the way I do. They’re more like independent contractors we employ from time to time if a client needs to get out of a hot situation.”
“Like an extraction?”
She nodded.
“Super spy stuff.” Aiden frowned down at her, a tiny smile on his face. As though being involved with something like that was a measure of all she’d achieved—and he was impressed by it.
She supposed it did speak to what she’d been doing since she’d seen him last. Still, it wasn’t all she was. “Sometimes we don’t get there in time. We don’t know beforehand that we needed Zander, and I wind up in over my head. Like on my mission last week.”
She probably shouldn’t even be talking about this.
But it was Aiden. Literally the first person she’d ever been able to trust in her life, the one who’d taught her what that meant.
“What happened?”
Bridget sighed. “The client knew she was being followed. She asked for assistance figuring out who the tail was. By the time I realized it was Benito Capeira stalking her, and he didn’t even know she was ex-CIA, he’d already made his move. I rushed in. We fought, and I had to kill him. She and I ran, but a couple of his guys chased us. I got her to the safe house, though.”
“So Millie was right, you are amazing.”
“It’s all her.” When he started to object, she held up a hand. “Millie trained me. I just worked at it long enough I could put it into practice instinctively.”
“And use it to save lives.” He set his cup on the mantel and folded his arms. “It’s not Millie out in the field, right? That’s all you.”
“She has kids. No way should she be putting her life at risk.”
Aiden flinched.
She wondered what that was about. Surely it wasn’t about the baby they’d made together.
Before she could ask him, he spoke. “Life is a risk. Anytime you go outside, you face down the unknown. Not just outside. You could fall out of bed and crack your head open. A house fire. A gas leak. You could just not wake up one morning.”
“Is there a point here, or are you just being terrifying on purpose?”
He grinned, but only a tiny bit. “You never know what might happen. Life is about taking that risk. Otherwise, how do you know you’ve really lived?”
She wondered then if he was talking about her taking a risk on him. But he was in a relationship. She’d heard him talking to someone he loved. The care in his tone had been familiar, the way he spoke to this mystery woman.
Like the way he’d spoken to Bridget years ago.
She turned away and heard him follow her to the kitchen. “You’re right. There is risk. But I have a battle to fight, and that’s my life. Not whatever I think it should’ve been, or I might want it to be. This is where I’ve come to. Chasing down Clarke and safeguarding our clients’ personal information. Making sure he doesn’t come at Millie and Eric again or hurt someone else.”
“So you’ll just fall back on nobility at the expense of any personal gain?”
She rinsed her mug and found a towel hung on the oven to dry her hands. “It doesn’t matter. It’s what’s right.”
“Guys?!” Ted rushed into the room, flushed and breathing hard. “I cracked the password and now I’m in the phone. Who is Sasha?”
She hadn’t talked to Sasha in a couple of days, but Millie probably had. Their friend was laying low. “Why?”
At the same time, Aiden said, “Bridget’s coworker.”
Ted glanced between them. “You need to call her. Clarke told the Capeiras where to find her, and they’ve called out a hit.”
Fifteen
“She didn’t answer. I left a voicemail and about fifteen messages.” Bridget strode into the room that was Ted’s office. The one that used to be Stuart’s bedroom.
Aiden wanted to tug her over and give her a hug—if she would let him. Instead, he watched her stow her phone with a wince on her face.
“Doing okay?”
“When Sasha checks in and tells me she’s all right, then I’ll be okay.”
That wasn’t what he’d meant, but he let her have that and turned to the work station set up—the one that took up a whole