Expired Getaway (Last Chance County #7) - Lisa Phillips Page 0,59

if you had, you’d probably be passed out right now. Resting, instead of in pain.”

Bridget got there first and opened it for him, moving into the hall so she could hold the door for the two.

Zander gave her a small smile, but he didn’t look grateful. Instead he looked like he wanted to punch a hole in the wall—or tear someone’s head off.

Had something happened? Bridget looked hard at Zander. “What is it?”

Zander ignored her question and strode in. “Let’s get you settled, Sasha. Then we can talk.”

“Uh-oh.”

Bridget figured Sasha’s assessment wasn’t far off the mark. “Talk” sounded ominous the way he’d said it. “I’ll check in with Millie.”

“Don’t leave me with him, Bridge!” Sasha would’ve said more. Normally. It was a testament to how much pain she was in that she stopped there.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Instead of calling, she sent Millie a text to let her know they were at the safe house. Not that she was going to tell Sasha that’s what it was. The woman would walk out the front door if she thought they were trying to protect her—as though that was an assessment of whether she could protect herself. Which, of course, was a valid question, considering she had stitches and her arm in a sling.

But those men hadn’t taken her.

Zander laid Sasha on the couch. She immediately sat up and frowned at him as she leaned against the back of the couch. Getting mad was preferable to acknowledging pain. Everyone knew that.

He folded his arms, standing like a glacier in the middle of the room. You could cut the tension in the room with a knife.

Bridget didn’t want to get in the middle of the two of them—and whatever was going on between them—so she headed for the kitchen to make coffee. It was nearly breakfast anyway, so what did it matter they hadn’t had any sleep? She planned on taking a nap right after Clarke was taken care of.

“You’re just gonna abandon me?!” Sasha called after her.

Bridget smiled at the can of coffee grounds. “You’re a big girl, Sash. Time to face the music.”

“Hey, I took care of those guys by myself.”

Bridget wanted to hear that story. But before she could ask for it, Zander spoke, “I’m glad you mentioned them, because I had my guy do some digging and all four had ties to the Capeira cartel. Care to share why they might be targeting you?”

As if he didn’t know. Or at least, he should be able to connect all the dots. But she knew what he was asking.

She just didn’t know why he was so up in arms about Sasha getting hurt. Were there feelings between her two friends she didn’t know about?

“Spill, Sasha.” He didn’t move a single muscle. “Why did they come after you?”

“Ugh. Fine.” Her friend sounded drained, though she attempted to keep that from bleeding into her tone. It still did, and Bridget figured Zander heard it too. Sasha huffed. “I put the word out that I was headed to meet up with Bridget.”

“You what?!”

Bridget winced at Zander’s roar and pressed the button on the coffee pot. After it came to life, she headed back to the living room where Zander and Sasha glared at each other. Definitely feelings. Neither kept the truth completely out of their expressions. They liked each other, that was now obvious, but now they were at definite odds.

Bridget tried to be the voice of reason. “You put yourself out there as bait?”

Sasha didn’t respond to either her comment or Zander’s, she only shut her eyes. “I spotted the tail shortly after. When I never met up with Bridget, they decided to grab me at the next stop. But Enrico wasn’t with them. They were gonna torture me into telling them where Bridget was so they could inform the boss, and then they were gonna dump my body. Probably in the desert. Somewhere only the birds know about.”

Zander said nothing. On his face was written plenty, though Sasha didn’t seem to notice. He was furious.

Bridget walked to the window and looked out at the same spot she’d first seen two members of that family, thereby finding the peace she was after. This was her life. Trauma notwithstanding, these were her people. The kind who provoked a dangerous group into targeting them.

“I knew they’d have to put me in the van, so I played along when two grabbed me. The others were inside. I waited ‘til they thought I was subdued and so shut