Expired Getaway (Last Chance County #7) - Lisa Phillips Page 0,89
dog for most of her life, ever since her best friend got one.
The mysterious woman was the cause of a good deal of interest in his daughter’s life. And why not? She’d been without a mother her whole life.
Until now.
Aiden hugged his friends. “Be safe, okay? Be careful.”
Ted nodded. “You, too.”
He watched them pull away from the curb and closed the front door. Bridget’s house was behind his, where their garages backed up to each other, the alleyway in between.
If he went into his bedroom, he could look out between the curtain and the blinds. Like a total creeper. She probably wasn’t even there.
Aiden drew out his phone and stared at it. She still hadn’t replied to any of his messages. Was she even okay? He wanted to ask. To find out where she was and what she was doing. But he just flipped the phone end over end against the side of his leg instead.
Better than looking desperate.
To distract himself, he boiled water with the electric kettle and made decaf coffee in his French press. He called Basuto and got an update on the overdose they’d worked—the manager from the bowling alley. It still didn’t sit right with him that a regular guy had been caught up in this. Everyone else involved had been regular drug users, except him.
It made no sense. But the theory that each death hadn’t been accidental definitely held a whole lot more weight now. That was for sure.
Aiden pushed the plunger down on his French press, feeling the satisfying give to it. He poured his cup and turned to the living room.
A tall guy stood in the entryway, the front door closed behind him. He lifted a gun. “Put that down.”
Aiden wanted to throw it at him. His gun was on top of the refrigerator, in a lockbox with a PIN. He studied the man. Took a sip of his drink to convey calmness. Nothing inside him was calm, and the coffee was far too hot for sipping. He hid the fact it burned his tongue and tried to figure out who this guy was.
Not Clarke.
This was the guy from the bowling alley. White shirt and dress pants. Red tips to his ears, though given he had no coat on, didn’t give Aiden any idea how long he’d been outside. Watching. This was the guy he’d seen that woman talking to. The one who’d later turned up dead in her truck.
“You’re here to kill me, too?” Aiden eyed the gun. “It won’t look like an OD if you use that.”
“Put the mug down and we can do this with little fuss.”
“So you get your way?” Instead, he planned to give it as much “fuss” as possible.
Sydney was upstairs. This man would never know that if Aiden could help it.
Aiden reached back and pulled out his phone. “I don’t think so.” He held it behind his back while he pressed the power button five times to make an emergency call to 911. Without looking, he had no idea if it went through.
“I knew you’d be a problem. That’s why this is necessary. Whether you like it or not, you’re going to die tonight.” The silk shirt guy pulled out a pouch from his pants pocket and tossed it onto the counter. “You’re about to go on the ride of your life. Too bad you’ll wind up dead at the end of it.”
And if he didn’t, he’d get shot?
Either way, Sydney would be fatherless.
“Don’t do this.”
Thirty
Bridget crawled on her elbows over the hill and looked down. “In position.”
Sasha’s reply crackled through the earbud of their comms. “So, you’re still mad.”
“Uh, duh.” Bridget tugged binoculars from her backpack and looked through them at the warehouse below. It had once been a big box store. Even back when she was a kid, this had been the place to get everything. On the edge of town, it had been touted as a sign the big city was encroaching on their small community. Now it was out of business. Someone should’ve bought the empty building years ago. Turned it into a gym, or a play center for kids. Even an indoor park would be cool, or a library. Or a coffee shop slash play center slash bookstore.
“Great.” Sasha mumbled something about it being better if Bridget had just killed her.
Bridget frowned. “Stop whining.” She couldn’t make out any movement below. “I don’t see anyone.”
“Look.” Sasha sighed. “Sydney is happy and healthy—and safe, right?”