Expired Getaway (Last Chance County #7) - Lisa Phillips Page 0,90

inference. Bridget wanted to argue with her. To state a case that she wasn’t happy or safe. Bridget hadn’t been either of those things for years. Meanwhile, Sasha would contend that she’d done the right thing for the baby—and Bridget. She would then argue that Bridget couldn’t have become the woman she was without these experiences.

As if that could ever justify her actions.

Sasha didn’t see the need to seek justification. She was already thoroughly convinced she’d done the right thing.

“Do you want to meet her?”

The answer came quickly. “No.”

Bridget caught the tone in her voice. “Are you scared of a kid?”

Sasha scoffed audibly. “Please. As if.”

She totally was. Her gut reaction over a child was to freak out? Sasha was more complicated than anyone Bridget had ever met, and spending time with her meant peeling back those layers. When Sasha allowed it.

Bridget spotted a truck pull up at one end of the building. The occupants got out and moved inside. “Two males, coming in on the east.”

“She is happy, right?”

Bridget detected a slight note of worry. “Definitely. Aiden has been wonderful. That’s plain enough to see.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Bridget clenched her back teeth. Sasha really didn’t know? No one could be that ignorant, surely. Sasha frequently decided how the world was, and that was what she believed. A form of denial—she could convince herself whatever she wanted. For example, her belief that tearing Sydney from Bridget’s life was the best thing for everyone. Including Sasha.

“Your issues regarding babies, and potentially being around one, hardly excuses what you did. I believed she was dead, and Aiden thought I was as well. All because that’s what you told us.”

“It was necessary.”

Bridget had to wonder if there was any point arguing with her logic. Sometimes she questioned if Sasha even had emotions. The truth was more that she felt deeply and had to work twice as hard to keep from being sucked down by her feelings. Her grief.

“I need you in my life.” Bridget could admit that much. “I think we need to work toward a place where I can forgive you, and you can accept it.”

“That’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

“Sash, I know you think—”

“I’m in position.”

“Move in.” Bridget dropped the binoculars beside the backpack and palmed her gun. She jogged down the side of the hill toward the loading bay of the empty building.

A total of six guys inside. No idea where they were, or how to navigate the interior. There had been no time to pull up old blueprints for the layout. She hit the side of the building, forgetting about the gunshot graze on the side of her arm. Or her other injuries.

She hissed out a breath.

“Okay?”

Sasha heard that? Instead of answering, Bridget turned the tables. “How’s your gunshot wound doing?”

Her colleague snorted. “Just get inside.”

Bridget figured that meant she was in considerable pain, but chose to ignore it. Or, who knew, maybe she was hopped up on pain meds. Maybe it wasn’t super advisable they were about to breach a building in full operational mode…but these were extenuating circumstances. They could debate the particulars of it later.

She picked the lock on the side door and eased it open. Inside smelled like what you might expect an abandoned building with thirty years of old boxes strewn everywhere would smell. Bridget flicked on her flashlight and held it under her gun hand. She braced the weight of her weapon as she moved through an empty hall.

“Center room. Three guys.”

“Copy that.” Bridget’s voice echoed down the hallway.

She figured Sasha would move in before Bridget got there, since that’d happened basically every other time they worked together. Putting herself out there first. Part of her had thought Sasha might be trying to make up for what she’d done to Bridget, as though she felt some guilt for it. Maybe not, though.

That sent a fission of doubt through Bridget that caused a shudder in her step. They were here because Sasha had intel that Clarke wanted to take out Capeira’s guys. It was a long shot they’d be able to convince Enrico they had a common enemy, but saving his life would go a long way toward doing that.

Assuming he was here, these guys belonged to his organization, and Clarke really did plan to take them out.

Bridget found the door to the main room, the huge area at the center where the store floor had been. She flipped off her flashlight before moving through the doorway to find cover.

Somewhere along the line,

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