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Trace blew out a breath. Ruth might be in the hacienda with Hugo or one of the other two houses. Ben was right. Their priority had to be the chlorine gas. He just hoped one innocent woman didn’t pay the price for saving hundreds of American lives.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Bridget kicked off the covers and sat on the side of the bed. She shoved her hair away from her face, frustrated from hours of tossing and turning, sleep elusive. Her mind had been haunted by too many nightmarish possibilities for Ruth and the danger Trace and his friends faced to free her.
She glanced at her cell phone and winced. Two hours before she needed to be awake.
Grabbing her clothes for the day, she showered and dressed. A mug of tea on the balcony sounded great. If Trace was on watch, perhaps a kiss would be the perfect tea chaser.
After tying her tennis shoes, she opened her bedroom door as quietly as possible and scanned the living room. Trace slept on the couch.
Nico turned from his post at the balcony doors, his eyebrow raising. “Couldn’t sleep?”
Bridget shook her head as Trace sat up. Oh, crud. She should have watched television in her room for a while.
“What’s wrong?” Trace asked, his voice gruff.
“Nothing. I’m sorry to wake you.”
He swung his feet to the floor and held out his hand to her. When she reached the couch, he tugged her down beside him. “Nightmares?”
“You have to sleep to have nightmares. I haven’t managed that yet.”
Trace propped his feet on the coffee table and settled deeper into the cushions, urging Bridget to lay her head against his chest. “Our minds work through every what-if scenario possible or a blow-by-blow replay of events. It’s the way our brains process trauma.”
“Will it go away?”
His palm rested on her lower back. “Want the truth or a pretty lie?”
“Truth.”
“Although the intensity fades, other trauma will bring the past into sharp focus.”
Bridget sighed. Great. Looked like she was destined to relive last night’s encounter with Hugo and his merry band of thugs for the rest of her life. “I only have this one trauma to deal with while you have many. How do you live with this every day?” Would the ghosts of his past haunt the rest of his days?
“There is no option other than to deal.”
“Did you have trouble sleeping last night?”
“Of course. Did you think I wouldn’t?”
Oh, man. Now Bridget felt twice as bad for waking him. “Go back to sleep. I’ll make some tea and sit on the balcony. Nico can keep me company.”
“Coffee is fresh,” Nico said without turning around. “I made a new pot a few minutes ago. Packets of tea are on the breakfast bar.”
“See?” She laid her hand on Trace’s arm. “I’ll be fine.”
He dropped a quick, hard kiss on her mouth. “I’ll shower and join you.” After a pointed glance at Nico, who nodded, Trace eased away from Bridget, grabbed his bag, and closed himself in the bedroom.
Bridget heated a mug of tea and carried the drink to the balcony door.
Nico checked the nearby balconies before motioning for her to join him. He indicated a chair near the door. “I’ll leave the door open. If something happens, get inside the suite and drop to the floor behind the couch.”
Bridget’s blood ran cold. “You expect trouble?”
“We always expect trouble. Keeps us alive.”
She sipped her tea, reveling in the peaceful silence of the early morning. Was Ruth awake? Her sister was an early riser to get a jump on the day. Would she feel the need to wake early in a life of captivity?
