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“Protect yourself,” he repeated. “I’ll be fine.”
Bridget prayed the skills he’d taught her as well Veronica’s tricks and tools would tip the scales to her and Trace’s favor. The truth was, if it came down to running to save herself or jumping into the fray to protect Trace, she’d stay and help however she could. She was his partner. She refused to duck and run.
The doorbell rang, making Bridget jump. Who could that be?
Trace glanced at the security monitor and pressed the intercom button. “It’s open. We’re in the gym.”
A minute later, Ben walked in. His gaze skated over Bridget, a smile curving his mouth.
Trace scowled at his friend and shifted to block her from Ben’s gaze. “Knock it off.”
His smile turned into a full-blown grin as the operative lifted both hands in mock surrender. “I picked up pizzas. Figured you wouldn’t take time to buy groceries.”
“I was too focused on working with Bridget.” He turned and cupped her hot cheek. “I’m sorry. I should have thought of that myself. If you can’t stomach pizza, I’ll go buy something else for you.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“If you try the pizza and your stomach rebels, tell me. You have to keep up your strength.”
“I will. Don’t worry.”
He squeezed her hand. “We’ll wait in the kitchen while you change.”
“Hold a slice or two for me.”
Ben chuckled. “No guarantees. I haven’t eaten in at least two hours.”
Bridget rushed off to the sound of male laughter. She liked hearing Trace laugh. That deep male rumble did funny things to her insides and stole her breath.
She rolled her eyes at her sentimentality. Forget the sexy laugh. That workout had stolen her breath. Her ribs ached, too. Although Trace was careful not to exert much pressure on her ribcage, repetitive movements and contact with the floor had stoked her pain level again.
Bridget dashed into the guest room where a bag of her own clothes sat on the bed. She dug through the contents of the duffel and pulled out what she needed. After a quick shower, she tugged on clean clothes and went downstairs, following the sound of male voices to the kitchen.
Trace leaned back against the kitchen counter while Ben perched on a black barstool, munching on a bread stick.
Trace straightened when he saw Bridget. “Feel better?”
“Cleaner.” She didn’t want to admit how much her ribs hurt. Bridget bet Trace hadn’t complained when he was injured.
His gaze dropped to her side. “Ribs?”
“Maybe.”
“Not surprising. You worked hard and the mats only cushion your fall.”
“How bad is the pain?” Ben asked. “Don’t sugarcoat it, Bridget. You can’t afford to be exhausted at the start of this mission. You’ll need to be at your best mentally to outwit Hugo and his buddies.”
“The shower helped.”
“But the ribs are still tender.” Trace grabbed his phone and fired off a text. He received a response as Bridget sat on a barstool beside Ben. “Sam and Joe will be here in an hour.”
Instead of protesting the inevitable, she grabbed a paper plate and laid a slice of vegetarian pizza on the white surface. Bridget’s stomach twisted at the prospect of eating a slice of the other options.
The two operatives looked at each other, then back at her. “Are you a vegetarian?” Trace asked.
She shook her head. “I’m not much of a meat eater on my best days. I can’t handle the other choices today.”
He grabbed a soft drink containing ginger from the refrigerator, broke the seal, and handed her the bottle. “Try this. Sam makes us keep a stash in all our refrigerators for upset stomachs.”
