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“Where’s the second one?” Nico asked.
“Three blocks back. They got hung up in slow-moving traffic. You should be able to lose them.”
“Joe, Trace, back inside. Ben, keep an eye out for them. I’ll call the pilot.” He was silent a moment, then he said, “Power up the jet. We’re coming in hot.”
“Can I get up now?” Bridget asked Sam.
“It’s safer for you on the floor.”
“It’s not more comfortable,” she muttered.
“Ten more minutes,” Nico said.
“You said that about one hundred turns back.”
Trace’s boss burst into laughter. “I guess I did. How about this promise? We’ll be at the jet in ten more minutes unless the bad guys delay us again.”
“I’ll believe that when I see the jet.”
Trace and the rest of his friends chuckled. True to Nico’s promise, though, the torturous ride ended sooner than she’d believed with no further delays or attacks.
While Nico, Joe, and Ben bailed out of the vehicle with guns in their hands, Trace and Sam helped Bridget off the floor and to the tarmac.
“Grab the gear and Bridget’s bag. We’ll have company in two minutes or less. Trace, take care of Bridget.”
The sniper winked at her. “No problem.”
That surprised a smile out of her despite the pain she was in.
The others grabbed gear and formed a human wall between her and Trace and the road leading to the airstrip.
Trace scooped Bridget into his arms and walked to the jet with fast, ground-eating strides. In less than a minute, he climbed the stairs and carried her inside the cabin of a plush jet. Instead of stopping and placing her on a seat, Trace continued to the back of the plane.
He paused at the door and flipped on the switch with his elbow.
Bridget glanced around, surprised. A bedroom. This plane had a bedroom in the back.
Seconds later, she heard Nico order the pilot to take off.
Trace sat her on the side of the bed as Sam hurried into the room.
“Go buckle in,” Sam told Trace. “I’ll take care of her.”
Trace’s jaw clenched. “I’d rather stay if Bridget will let me.”
The medic glanced at her. “Your choice.”
She nodded. Although she trusted the other woman, Bridget couldn’t deny feeling a measure of security with Trace by her side. Yeah, she was probably being stupid. She’d known Trace a few minutes longer than she had the rest of his friends, not long enough to have formed an attachment. Yet she had formed one anyway.
Trace and Sam held her steady as the jet taxied down the airstrip and lifted into the air. Once the aircraft leveled off, Sam turned to Bridget. “I need to examine you now that I can see. Do you have cuts or scrapes I need to treat?”
Bridget did a mental inventory of her injuries. “The back of my neck hurts and so does my left wrist. The left side of my back, too.”
“I’ll start at the top of your head and we’ll work our way down. Trace, when I look at her back, you’ll have to turn around.”
“No problem.”
With a gentle touch, Sam felt Bridget’s head. When she reached the right side, Bridget hissed as the pain spiked. “Hmm. Nice goose egg here.”
