Expired Getaway (Last Chance County #7) - Lisa Phillips Page 0,78

and the two SUVs.

Someone cried out from inside the truck. More shots. Then another cry, this one from one of the feds.

“Turner is down! He’s been hit!”

More shots were exchanged.

Bridget slid out her cell phone and called 911 for backup to help the feds and an ambulance for whoever had been hit. Each second of time that passed stretched out, until heartbeats felt like minutes and dragged the moments out in excruciating detail.

A gunshot blew out the window above her. Glass shattered down over her head.

She clapped her hands over her ears and stared unseeing at the trees beyond the restaurant parking lot. The sound of shots echoed around her. It was like a constant barrage of fireworks with little breath between them. Her ears eventually stopped working, unable to handle the sound any longer.

She didn’t lower her hands, though. Each breath whistled under her hands, and she realized she was hyperventilating.

At the tree line, a dark figure caught her gaze. Two tree branches parted, and he came into view. Watching.

Clarke.

He’d set this up. Capeira’s men were here to take her, and he was going to watch the whole thing.

No.

Bridget ducked her head and ran straight for him. At the tree line, Clarke’s eyes widened and he turned to move out of sight a second later.

She wasn’t about to let him get away. Not again. She ran full out, pumping her arms and legs as fast as possible, the way she had during track competitions. The ones where she’d come in yards and yards ahead of everyone else.

She flew toward the trees, nearly stumbled over a downed branch, and hurdled over a tree stump.

There.

She angled toward him.

Seconds later, he disappeared out of sight. Bridget slowed. She had to not run in so fast that he took her off guard and got the drop on her. She pulled the gun from the back of her waistband and flicked off the safety with her thumb. Pain sliced through her chest. Ouch. She scanned the area and tried to ignore her body’s protest.

She listened for footfalls. A noise that signaled the disturbance of brush. Out here was mostly berry bushes. Huge, thorny masses she would not like to fall into by mistake, kind of like the night she’d run from Clarke. He’d grazed her. Aiden hit her with his car. So much had happened since then, but she couldn’t allow thoughts of Sydney to distract her.

Where had Clarke gone? She spun around.

The branch came out of nowhere and slammed into her head. Her finger flexed on the trigger of her gun. She squeezed.

The blast sounded just as Bridget hit the ground and everything went black.

Twenty-six

The ambulance pulled into the diner parking lot. Millie pressed hard on the wound with the sweater someone had given her. “Help is here.”

Special Agent Turner was pale. Too pale, probably. He’d been clipped in the neck, above his vest. Likely he would be all right once he got to the hospital. But with the way it was bleeding, it looked bad.

A gunshot rang out.

Everyone braced. Several people ducked to a crouch, and even the cuffed Capeira soldiers were pulled behind cover. Or shoved into cars that would take them to the closest FBI field office for questioning.

“What was that?” Eric’s question preceded a rush of movement. The sea of agents all glanced around to find an answer to their group leader’s question.

One of them pointed. “It sounded like it came from within the trees.”

Eric glanced at Millie.

“Bridget.”

The EMTs reached her side and dumped their gear by the bleeding man. The second one took over with the pressure she had on Turner’s wound. As soon as she was free, Millie jumped up and raced for the tree line.

Eric ran right behind her. He called out for a couple of agents to go with them.

Eric had seen Bridget head for the trees but had insisted they help the other agents first to make certain the situation was settled before they went after her.

Now a shot had been fired without a specific location of where Bridget had entered the forest.

“I knew I shouldn’t have waited.” Her friend could be dead by the time they found her, and it would be all Millie’s fault for not going with her instinct.

“But Agent Turner is going to live, thanks to you.”

“Your people should’ve thought to search for the source of the bleeding.” She raced into the trees in the direction the agents had indicated and followed a line of fresh footsteps to a small