Expired Getaway (Last Chance County #7) - Lisa Phillips Page 0,61
found herself facilitating a getaway.
“Bedroom?”
Bridget nodded.
“So he came in but you didn’t know until things kicked off.”
A sick feeling welled in her stomach. She swallowed it back down and stared at the carpet. “This isn’t about me. You’re the one who’s had a rough day.” She didn’t like being the one they had to baby. Not when they were both elite as far as operations were concerned. Bridget felt like a rookie compared to them.
“Talk,” Sasha ordered. “I need a distraction from my rough day.”
“He was on top of her, pulling at her shirt.”
“If he wasn’t already dead, I’d kill him myself.”
Zander nodded. “I’d help.”
Bridget wanted to smile, but all she could see was the scene in her mind. “I pulled my gun and pointed it at the back of his head.”
“And pulled the trigger,” Zander finished for her.
Bridget managed to nod.
“So you sprayed blood all over her.” Sasha shrugged her healthy shoulder. “I’m guessing she was grateful you saved her.”
“You should stop now.” Zander stared down Bridget. “She looks sick.”
The scratch at the door happened again. She jerked in her seat and twisted toward the door. She didn’t need to respond to Zander’s comment, even if he was right. The last thing she needed was to talk more about this.
“You saved her. You killed him.”
Bridget sighed. “And now his brother is coming after me, Sash.”
“Which exposed Clarke for the true slime he really is. Something we’d have never known otherwise.” Sasha sighed. “I should change my bandage. It’s seeping.”
Bridget still had had to help the client out from under the man she’d killed. The woman she’d sprayed with Benito’s blood and brains. She’d been slick with it…she stopped.
There was that scratching again, louder this time.
If there was ever a time the notion “saved by the bell” came in handy, it was now. She headed to the door.
Zander called out, “Hey, wait…”
The second she opened the door, the loose dog she’d just seen bounded in. Bridget gasped. Distraction achieved. She crouched. “Butch!”
He bounded onto her knees and licked her in the face.
Bridget laughed. “So it was you—you big rascal!”
The door behind him opened. “Excuse me—” Aiden stepped in. “Butch.” Relief and frustration warred on his face.
She glanced up. “You had him?”
“He was…let out accidentally. I saw him come in your garage.”
Back in the living room, Sasha muttered a few words. Zander headed back there, leaving Bridget alone with Aiden.
“You found your friend?”
She nodded and stood before Butch could lick off every scrap of makeup she had left. The dog trotted around her, off to explore.
Bridget followed him.
Sasha had unbuttoned the shirt she wore, exposing her shoulder and the stitched-up wound. Bridget could smell the blood—mixed with the antiseptic and iodine the doctor had used.
Zander peeled open fresh gauze.
Bridget heard the tearing sound. She stared at the blood and got lightheaded. Aiden bumped into her. Or maybe he grabbed her as she stumbled back, swaying into him. She didn’t know which it was.
Everything came tumbling back, and her legs gave out.
“Whoa. I got you.” Aiden shifted her, and she felt his warmth. The strength in his arms. Until he froze, nearly solid behind her. “You.”
Twenty
Aiden had two problems. First, Bridget’s collapse into his arms and making sure she was okay, and second, the woman on the couch. He trained his gaze on her. “What did you do to her?”
“Me?” Yeah, she pretended to be totally innocent. He knew better.
Bridget stirred, her breath coming hard. “She didn’t…”
He waited for her to say more, but she had trailed off. Aiden helped her up since they were essentially on the floor with his leg bent at a weird angle. He didn’t let go of Bridget’s elbows. “What happened?”
“She has issues with blood.”
He shot a look at the woman on the couch. “I’ll deal with you in a minute.”
“Hold up—” That was the big man present.
Sasha huffed. She muttered something under her breath that sounded like, “You can try.” Only, at that moment, Bridget turned in his arms and he found himself looking into her eyes, those long lashes blinking. “She didn’t do anything.”
“I assume you’re referring to this moment?”
Bridget wasn’t part of this, was she? Was this some kind of conspiracy? He shoved the thoughts away to revisit them later. He was going to ask all the questions and demand the woman on the couch explain herself. But for now, Bridget needed him. “Are you okay?”
“I need a minute.” She stepped away from him and moved on unsteady legs toward the hall and the