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“Are you interested in working for me, Bridget?”
She dragged her attention back to the intense man at her bedside. “Would my research skills make a difference?”
“You’ll save the lives of operatives and civilians.” His gaze locked onto hers. “You might save Trace’s life.”
To have the chance to repay the debt she owed Trace was a tantalizing possibility. Yes, she loved her job at the school. In the last two years, though, she felt as though there was something more she could do with her skill than help high schoolers research Shakespeare and Tolstoy even though that was a worthy career choice. She wanted to contribute more. “I couldn’t find a trace of my famous sister when I looked.”
“If you had the right equipment, training, and databases, you would have at least picked up a trail for Zane to follow. What’s your answer, Bridget?”
She looked into those icy blue eyes and leaped into the unknown. “I’m interested. Do your background search.”
“What if things don’t work out between you and Trace?”
Bridget’s heart slammed against her rib cage. “We’re…friends.” She didn’t know how else to describe their relationship. They’d only known each other a few hours though it felt like months because so much had happened.
Brent’s lips curved. His phone chirped with an incoming text. He glanced at the screen and smiled. “I’ll be on watch out in the hall. My daughter wants to tell me the results of her math test. No one will slip past me, Bridget.”
She waved him on. “Go. Your daughter’s news is important. I’ll be fine.”
Once Brent closed the door behind him, Bridget shut her eyes and willed herself to relax with marginal success. She took comfort in the rumble of male voices in the next room and Brent’s muffled words beyond the door.
She was safe. Ruth wasn’t. Although she didn’t have proof her sister was still alive, Bridget held onto the slim hope that Veronica Walker had given her. Hugo Torino loved to brag about his prize possessions. He couldn’t brag about having Ruth in his hands if he killed her.
No matter how many times she repeated those reassurances to herself, Bridget wasn’t convinced. Some people destroyed their possessions to prevent others from taking them. If Hugo discovered Shadow was hunting for Ruth, he might kill her.
CHAPTER NINE
Trace eyed his teammates. “I don’t know what happened. I either missed a camera or one of Pedro’s flunkies caught a movement by chance. Either way, they were determined to take me down.”
Being forced to run was the reason he’d stumbled across Bridget. She wasn’t in an alley on his planned escape route. One turn a different direction and he wouldn’t have seen her. His blood ran cold as he realized Bridget might be dead now if not for Torino’s thugs chasing him from the estate.
“I missed it, too,” Joe said to Nico. “I’m as much to blame for the screwup.”
Shadow’s leader scowled. “I’m not laying blame at anyone’s feet unless one of you was distracted. The best laid plans go awry. It’s why we create several plans and come up with more on the fly.”
“Joe and I weren’t distracted,” Trace insisted. “I think we have to chalk this one up to bad luck.”
“At least the outcome was positive. Pedro’s gone and Bridget is safe. I’ll take that as a win.”
Ben scowled. “It’s not a win until Ruth is out of Hugo’s clutches. We can’t leave her in his dirty hands much longer. Hugo sullies and destroys whatever he touches.”
Nico’s eyes narrowed. “I’m aware. We won’t quit until she’s free. Got something to share with the class, Ben?”
A knock sounded on the door. Brent walked inside. “Sam, take over the watch.”
“Yes, sir.” The medic hopped up and was in the hall seconds later.
“What’s up, boss?” Nico asked.
“A preliminary report from Zane.”
“If this is about Ruth, we should have this discussion in Bridget’s presence. She deserves to know what’s going on.” Trace would hate to be the one shut out if a person he loved was involved with Hugo. Yeah, knowledge could be scary. Not knowing was worse.
Brent pinned him with an icy glance. “Have a personal stake in this, Young?”
He stiffened as tension ratcheted up several notches in the room. Fine. Didn’t make sense to him but he’d own it. “Yes, sir.” Friends. That’s what they were. Friends. Couldn’t be more only hours into a relationship. Right? Why did he feel as though he was lying to himself?
“Enough to compromise your judgment?”
