Expired Getaway (Last Chance County #7) - Lisa Phillips Page 0,77

she felt incomplete, and the more she thought about what that beautiful little girl represented.

Her. Aiden. The product of a love they’d shared. Certainly no enduring epic romance, but they’d had their moments of real affection. She would never consider Sydney to be a mistake. Not even after she’d been told her baby died.

At the sign, Bridget pulled into the restaurant on the highway. She didn’t know how she ended up there, considering she hadn’t purposely headed anywhere in particular.

The sign outside read, “SAME PIE, NEW MANAGEMENT.”

Whatever that was supposed to mean.

She flung the door open and fell out, landing on her hands and knees on the gravel. Bridget hissed. Her whole body bucked, and she realized she was sobbing. Rather than curl up on the gravel, she clambered high enough up to set her behind back on the seat. Bridget laid her head in her hands and let it all out. She’d learned years ago it was better to get the emotions out than make it worse by bottling it up.

When it was spent, she got up and stretched. The memory of her little daughter playing in the driveway stuck with her. A treasure. The greatest gift she’d ever received.

She should have told Aiden thank you for the wonderful job he’d done raising her so far. Sydney was happy. She laughed easily. She appeared healthy and energetic.

God, You made sure she was in good hands.

Bridget would be forever grateful for the care her daughter had been in. Sasha had essentially gambled with the circumstances she’d placed Sydney in, but the reality was that God had it all in hand. Even with the disagreements between them, He had never—would never—let her daughter down. God had turned her life into something beautiful.

Without Bridget.

That hurt, if she was honest about it. And it was going to be hard to forgive Him for choosing Sydney’s best life as one without her in it. She couldn’t change the past, but Bridget could ensure a good—if not better—future for Sydney.

But she wasn’t going to just barrel into Sydney’s life, selfishly assuming she was what was “better” for her daughter. The time and circumstances had to be right.

And that hurt more than everything else.

A truck pulled up beside her, the window already in the process of rolling down. Somebody needed to speak to her?

She probably looked like she’d been dragged through a hedge and a stream. Backward.

A gun appeared first. Behind it, a shadowed face in the passenger seat. “You’re getting in.” The accented voice wasted no time before saying, “Or I shoot you where you stand.”

She realized what this was. “If Enrico wants me, then he should come here and fetch me himself.”

“He did not say you should be unharmed. Just that you’re still alive.”

Bridget left the car door open, her phone still in her coat pocket. One gun. A knife in her boot—though she’d never used it outside of training because of her aversion to blood. Could she take out the occupants of this vehicle before they left with her?

Sasha had done it.

She’d trained Bridget, as had Millie. That meant Bridget had components of both their skillsets. Help me do this. It seemed strange to ask God to potentially help her kill someone—more than one person. Especially when she’d just admitted she might not forgive Him for her recent hardships. But if she didn’t get past this situation, then she would never get to speak with Sydney. She would never be able to thank Aiden. Or possibly hear him apologize for the way he’d yelled at her for suggesting he protect their daughter.

“Now!”

Bridget started. She needed to not get off track, distracted by her thoughts. These guys meant to end her life—probably after their boss tortured her for a while first.

She took half a step forward. Once they were on the road, she could find out what arrangement they had going with Clarke. Maybe they had a deal in the works, like the intel Ted had found on his phone.

Police sirens whirled. Two big, black SUVs bumped the curb into the parking lot from different directions. Bridget stepped back.

FBI agents poured out of the vehicles. They took cover behind open doors, yelling for the truck’s occupants to get out.

The first shot came from the truck. Aimed at her.

Bridget dove to the side and rolled for the rear corner of her car. She scrambled up onto all fours and raced around the back of the car, while gunshots volleyed back and forth between the truck