clapped him on the shoulder. “I do believe our boss just paid you a compliment, Donaldson.”
Conroy shook his head. “I’ve liked Donaldson since even before he saved my wife’s life. Back, what was it? A year ago, or however long that was?”
Aiden shook his head. “I think I’ve fallen into a parallel universe.”
Conroy laughed. “Probably just the pain scrambled your brain. I’m sure I just said you’re so much like Basuto. Not me.” He held out his hand, and Aiden shook it again. “Go home, Donaldson. Hug that daughter of yours good night, and we’ll see you in a few days. Maybe a week.”
They wandered off and left him there, wondering if he could manage to drive himself home.
“Come on, I’ll give you a lift back to your place.”
Aiden spun to find Millie beside him. “It’s not that simple. I have to change at the police station. I have to fill out all the paperwork that goes with having been shot before I go home. I can’t pack up my life and leave town just because Bridget thinks it’s the best thing for Sydney. The daughter she hasn’t even met.”
Behind her, Eric winced. “To be fair, I don’t disagree with him. Bridget really needs to meet her daughter.”
Millie glanced back and forth. “Neither of you understands the pressure we feel as mothers. And you understand even less what it’s like to know you’re putting that child in danger just by being around them.”
“I have no interest in arguing with you.” Aiden needed to sit down, not get into another heated debate with a woman who lived in danger and thought that meant she had to hide from everyone. Not to mention that he was also at risk daily because of his job. It wasn’t like he sold donuts for a living.
Millie had withheld the particulars of her job from her family. No one in town knew how dangerous her occupation was. She had taught Bridget to compartmentalize her life in the same way. To keep everyone at arm’s length in order to minimize the risk.
He was going to be who he was. Risks and all.
That meant doing his job and not going home, even though he’d been ordered to. Aiden needed to find Clarke, or whoever had shot at him, and get this whole thing put to bed. Case closed. No more problems that dragged on for years on end and caused pain for everyone who came into contact with him.
He strode toward the end of the parking lot and across the street. After a quick text to Frees, he got a location and headed out after the officers on the search.
Aiden paced down a side street about a quarter mile from where Frees looked for Clarke.
The hair on the back of his neck rose on instinct. He didn’t slow his pace, though, or do anything to indicate he was aware that danger lurked. In mere seconds, he could have his gun out and be already to fire if that was necessary.
The dark-clothed figure stepped out from behind a rusted-out car dumped in the alley.
Aiden pulled his gun. Before he could bring it up to aim, a woman said, “Easy. I’m not trying to get shot again.”
Sasha.
“Tell me why you’re sneaking up on me. Because I don’t want to get shot again either.” He wanted to rub the heel of his hand across his front where there was no doubt a bruise rising. But doing that would probably make him pass out. “And you can tell me why you shot me just now.”
“You think that was me?” Sasha set one hand on her hip and cocked her foot out. “Ouch. I forgot that was going to hurt.” Her hand dropped by her side. “I didn’t shoot you just now. That was Clarke, and it’s not even why I’m here. I just want to know what you know, so I can get on the search for him.”
“Clarke is the one who shot me?”
“Of course. You think he would let Bridget meet with the cops and not try to take one of them out in a warning? He knows if he shoots you dead, he’ll be hunted forever. That’s why he shot you when he knew you’d be wearing a vest.”
“Well, it felt great.”
Sasha let out a sharp laugh.
“None of this is funny.” He frowned. “Bridget thought I was dead.” That should make her reconsider. If she had a conscience. “I think you’ve done enough to try and help any of us,