gunshot, maybe. Just like those seconds when Aiden had walked to her between the cars. One moment she was getting ready to say what she’d called him there to say. The next second, a shooter.
And he’d been hit.
He was down. His life, ended.
Okay, so he didn’t die, but at that moment, she hadn’t known for sure. She was allowed to be a little bit dramatic—okay, a lot. And it could happen again. With Sydney. The little girl outside wasn’t wearing a vest. Neither was the teen with her. That meant a round would tear through flesh. There would be nothing anyone could do to stop it.
The child she’d thought had passed away from complications would then die in front of her. Torn apart by Clarke’s bullet.
Bridget let the blinds snap back together. There was no point torturing herself with what she couldn’t have…yet. Right now there was too much danger. She couldn’t be swayed by her emotions, that visceral draw to know her child. To hold her child. She’d barely thought beyond that first moment.
What she needed to do was keep her daughter safe. Right now, Sydney was content with the situation as she knew it to be. She’d grown up thinking her mother was in heaven. The possibility that her mother could be a tangible part of her life just didn’t exist in her world. Sydney didn’t need to know she was here but choosing to not be in her life. Not when the little girl felt safe. Letting her know would take that peace away.
Bridget turned from the window. She wasn’t going out to her daughter. She repeated that twice to herself, a whisper in the quiet of the room. She had to convince herself she wasn’t going to just walk out there and bombard her.
She couldn’t.
Clarke was a threat. Capeira was a threat. She had to take care of both before Sydney would be safe, and that wasn’t going to happen while she stood here, peeking through the blinds at her child.
Bridget grabbed her keys and headed out. The second she pulled open the door to the garage, she hit the garage door opener also. Out of habit, mostly. Before she could stop him. Butch wedged past her leg and ducked underneath the rising door, to the driveway beyond her car.
“Butch!”
She raced after him, suddenly remembering the very thing she’d been avoiding. Bridget skidded to a stop before the end of the garage. She peered out, and her world flipped upside down.
Even from this distance, she knew she’d been seen.
But Bridget didn’t go outside. Her body swayed. No. Don’t.
She needed to stay where she was because she was sure Clarke, or anyone else who was on the radar, was watching She knew it would be obvious in an instant, the connection she felt about the little girl across the alley. Bridget knew she didn’t have it in her to react like she was just any other child.
Sydney stared at her. Bridget did the same, her eyes unblinking until she was forced to close them to ease the burn.
Tears rolled down her cheeks. She swiped them away and tried to focus better on Sydney, despite the sheen of moisture in her eyes.
“Sydney!” The teen called her back.
Whoever the sitter was, she stared warily at Bridget. But Sydney was distracted by the dog. Butch sniffed around her legs as his big body leaned against her. She landed on her butt, knees bent. Big inline skates in front of her, legs splayed out. She erupted with giggles.
The dog practically sat in her lap while the girl petted him and laughed at the tongue swiping her face.
Bridget felt the sob well up and swallowed it back down. Don’t lose it.
“Syd.” The teen wanted the child to come with her.
Either she’d been warned there could be trouble, or she was naturally wary of strangers. Whichever it was that made her call the child back, Bridget was glad for it. She had good instincts. A tiny amount of the fear in Bridget eased.
Bridget lifted a hand, palm out. She wasn’t going to be a problem for them. In fact, she called out across the alley, “Watch him for me. Please?”
The little girl squealed. “Yay!”
Bridget spun to her car, fell into the driver’s seat and backed far enough out of the garage to watch the three of them head inside. Then she drove away, even though that was the last thing she wanted to do. The farther she drove away from Sydney, the more