and they know the brother is dead. The two women involved in it have evaded the feds’ search to find them and figure out what happened to Enrico’s brother. In Caracas. They want Enrico Capeira, since they know his brother is dead, and there’s not much they won’t do, now that he’s on radar in the US.”
Much like the chance to take down Capeira, this was Aiden’s shot to make amends for everything in his life he needed to undo. No more striving to go above and beyond. It was his chance to live clean and clear, with everything he’d ever wanted.
And he wouldn’t have to convince anyone to testify to do it.
“Chatter suggests he’s mobilizing for something big.” Ted stood. “Which is why we’re headed to Tate’s office now for a meeting.”
Aiden turned to the hall. “Last time I was there…”
Bridget wasn’t in view.
He strode out and found her down a ways, just out of sight. She paced as she spoke on the phone. When she saw him, she said, “Call me when you get there,” then stowed the cell in her back pocket.
“Meeting at Tate’s. All of us and the feds.” Which probably meant Eric was out of the hospital. “We’re headed there now.”
“Copy that.”
“Everything good with your friend?” He reached to touch her cheek again.
She stepped back and blinked those long lashes. Lifted her chin. “You don’t need to worry about it. I can take care of myself.”
After that, she brushed past him, and he heard her talking to Ted. While he just stood there and wondered if he was going to have to watch everything he wanted slip through his fingers again.
Just like last time.
Sixteen
Millie glanced over at her husband, sitting in the passenger side while she drove. So pale. He looked like he wanted to pass out—or hurl. “Maybe leaving the hospital wasn’t such a good idea.”
“I’ll be okay once I get out of this car.”
She should drive back to the hospital and convince them to readmit him. But she didn’t. Millie drove to her brother Tate’s private investigator office.
“They gave me medicine. I’d rather be useful, not just lying in a bed for two more days.”
Millie groaned. She was going to kill Clarke.
Eric squeezed her knee, his voice as soft as his touch. “What?”
“I should’ve seen it. I should have known he was betraying us.” She gripped the steering wheel. There was no point in him trying to make her feel better. She shouldn’t get to feel better when it was all her fault he’d been shot. And Bridget had nearly died—more than once.
Now Clarke was in the wind, and they needed to figure out a plan for what to do next.
“Do you really want me to tell you that, yes, you should’ve known?”
Millie wasn’t sure what she wanted. Unless she could just say, “none of what’s happening.” Because that was pretty close to her wish right now. Their five-day vacation to reconnect was toast. He knew now she’d lied to him for years, and now he’d been shot because of the secrets she’d kept.
“Does being a CIA agent years ago somehow give you special mental powers?”
“Maybe it should have. And either time, or life, killed them.”
“So having the boys made you soft? Or at least, distracted.”
She shot him a look. “I’ve done the best I could.”
“Maybe it’s because you’re pregnant. It probably fried your brain cells.”
“That actually might be true.” Ugh. Why did he have to be so reasonable? “At least be mad that I got you shot.”
“I’ve been shot before. It’s a hazard of my job—and apparently, it’s a hazard of being married to you as well.” He didn’t shrug. More like a scrunch of his nose that meant the same thing.
Millie pulled onto the side street so hard he let out a moan. She pulled into Tate’s reserved spot and shut off the car before turning to him. “A hazard. Of being married to me?”
“Do you drive like that with our boys in the back?”
“I knew you were mad about getting shot.”
“My whole stomach is on fire. Of course I’m mad. But not at you. I’m mad at the guy who shot me.”
“Ok, so you’re not mad at me?”
“I knew you were CIA before I married you. The accountant’s office was more of a mission to you than a job, so I knew it was important. I might not have known you were helping ex-spies, but it wasn’t illegal or immoral. So why would I be mad about it? Things that