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Trace glanced at Bridget as they neared her house. On the drive to Freeport, Trace and his teammates had decided he and Bridget should use the direct approach while the others remained out of sight.
They reconned the area and didn’t see anything suspicious. No movement or lights in the house, the neighborhood quiet.
Someone could lie in wait. However, Hugo couldn’t know when Bridget would return. If she returned. If the Torino thugs chasing him had discovered her alive in that alley, they’d have ended her life.
Bridget practically vibrated with tension in the passenger seat. “What if he’s hiding inside the house?”
He laid his hand over her knee. “I’ll handle him. My team and I will be in constant contact. They’ll know if I need assistance.” He wouldn’t unless Hugo brought friends. “This is what we’re trained for.”
“If he’s there, capture him and make him talk.”
“No problem. Take a deep breath and relax. If he’s there, we don’t want him to realize that we’re aware of his presence.”
“Easier said than done.” Bridget closed her eyes and breathed deep. Gradually, her hands released their death grip on the passenger seat. “Ready.”
“Good girl. Let’s do this.” He turned into her driveway and parked his SUV. Trace tapped his ear piece. “In position.”
“Go,” Nico murmured.
Trace slid from behind the wheel and came around to the passenger side of his SUV.
“I have nosy neighbors. We’ll have company before long.” Her cheeks flamed. “Especially since I haven’t dated anyone recently. They’ll be curious about you.”
His eyebrows soared. Bridget Monihan was drop-dead gorgeous. The men in Freeport must be blind.
“Staking your claim, Trace?” Joe teased over the comm system.
“Can it, Joe,” he murmured.
Soft laughter was his response.
“What did he say?” Bridget looked curious.
“Nothing important.”
“I don’t know, buddy,” Ben said. “If you won’t make a move, I will.”
Trace ignored the latest joke at his expense despite wanting to warn off Ben. What was wrong with him? He wasn’t possessive over women. Now was not the time involve himself with anyone, let alone a woman who was sort of a client.
Bridget frowned. “The next time I participate in a mission, I want an ear piece. You aren’t telling me everything.”
Next time? If Trace had his way, there wouldn’t be another time. Too much could go wrong. “We’ll see.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I want my own equipment bag with the neat gadgets.”
“The only equipment you need is a computer.” He ignored his teammates’ laughter and cupped Bridget’s elbow as he escorted her to the front door, his Sig in easy reach. No need to alarm the neighbors peering at them through an opening in the curtains. If he had the weapon in his hand, he bet the neighbors would call the cops.
“Do you have a spare house key?” When he and Joe retrieved her belongings from the hotel in Puebla, they didn’t see her purse. Pedro’s men had Bridget’s bag, ID, and keys. Although he didn’t think one of the thugs would come to Tennessee, Trace ruled out nothing, especially if Pedro’s men suspected Bridget was involved with their boss’s death.
Bridget went to the right of the porch, crouched, and thrust her hand into the foliage of a bush. She pulled out a small black box, opened it, and withdrew a shiny silver key.
Trace held out his hand. “Let me check the place before you go inside.”
“If Ruth is here, she’ll scream at the top of her lungs.”
“You’ll convince her I’m not a kidnapper or a burglar.” Preferably before the cops hauled him off to jail. Wouldn’t Brent love to bail him out of jail hours after they returned home.
Although she looked skeptical, Bridget dropped the key on his palm without further protest.
