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Bridget settled deeper into the pillow on the examination table in Sorenson’s clinic and looked at the doctor. “What’s the verdict, Dr. Sorenson?”
“You’ll live.”
She smiled, appreciating his snarky sense of humor. “Good to know. When can my cohorts in crime bust me out of here?”
“I want to keep an eye on you overnight. If I’m satisfied with your progress, I’ll release you.”
The sooner she returned home, the better. Ruth was out there somewhere. Bridget wanted to see for herself that her sister was safe. If she was, Ruth could replace the money in Bridget’s account and they’d make amends. They were sisters and the only remaining family on either side.
On the other hand, if Ruth was under duress, Bridget would free her sister and bring her home. Although she wasn’t a black ops soldier like Trace and his friends, she’d find a way to make Hugo Torino pay for taking Ruth against her will. “I’ll hold you to that, Dr. Sorenson. I have plants to water.”
He chuckled. “I’ll get you home in time to revive your plants.” Sorenson left the room.
A moment later, Trace knocked on the door. “The doc says you’re ready to go to the recovery room.” He helped her from the table and across the hall.
After she sat on the edge of the bed, he slipped off her tennis shoes, raised the head of the mattress, and lifted her legs to the flat surface. He tucked the pillow in the right place behind her head and tugged the covers over her. “What did Sorenson say?”
“That I’ll be home in time to water my plants.”
He blinked. “Your plants?”
She smiled. “Unless Dr. Sorenson sees something he doesn’t like, he’ll release me tomorrow.”
“Excellent. I’ll let our boss know so he can make sure a jet is available.”
“I’ll have to impose on someone to drive me to pick up my car. It’s in the long-term parking lot at BNA.”
“No problem. My SUV is at John C. Tune. I’ll drive you. Are you hungry?”
“A little.”
He wrapped callused fingers around hers briefly. “I’ll bring something light. Ben’s standing guard in the hall. Don’t worry about someone coming after you. No one will slip past us.”
Wow. These guys didn’t mess around.
Trace returned with a bed tray in his hands. On the tray were a bowl of chicken noodle soup and a mug of hot tea. “If this doesn’t settle well, I’ll find something else. Will you be all right if I leave you for a few minutes? I need to report to my boss.”
“No need.” A deep voice came from the doorway.
A buzz-cut blond, at least six foot four, with a powerful build and broad chest entered the room. Who was he? She’d hate to meet this man in a dark alley. And those ice blue eyes? She shivered, glad Trace’s were a warm brown color.
Why did it matter what color Trace’s eyes were? She’d only known the soldier for a few hours.
Trace straightened, shock on his face. “Why are you here, sir?”
“To check on our guest and obtain a mission report.” His gaze shifted to Bridget. “Introduce me to your friend, Trace.”
“Bridget Monihan, this is Brent Maddox, CEO of Fortress Security.”
Trace’s boss shook her hand, his grip gentle. “I’m glad you’re recovering. Sorenson says you’ll be back to normal in a few weeks. You’re very lucky. I hear you went to Chile to confront Pedro Torino.”
“Not one of my brighter moves.”
“Why did you want to talk to him?”
“Brent.” Trace’s voice held a hint of warning. “Wait until after she eats.”
Bridget squeezed his hand. “It’s all right.” She faced Maddox. “I went to Torino’s estate to ask him where his son was staying.”
