Page 39 of Vengeance of the Gods

A slow smile spread across Bridger’s lips, and Vega wanted to smack it off. “Because one of us has to be, and since you're the anxious one right now, I have to be the anchor.” His panic from whatever he’d seen in his sleep must have been gone.

“You’re giving me fucking hives.” When she peeked over her shoulder, Bridger had the goofiest, boyish grin on his face, and it didn’t help with her bubbling stomach.

“Next.”

Their back and forth took Vega’s focus off the moving line. She suddenly couldn’t move, scared into stillness.

If this didn’t work…

“Ma’am, next!” the woman called again.

“Vega,” Bridger said, putting his hands on her shoulders to move her forward.

Her feet dragged like they were weighed down with cement blocks.

“Sorry, she’s a little nervous,” Bridger said with a laugh, earning a small smile from the woman.

“Identification, please.”

Vega reached inside her pocket, fighting against the urge to run as she lifted her hand and gave the woman both of their very fake, very illegal passports.

Bridger’s hands were still on her shoulders, rubbing from the base of her neck down to the curve of her shoulder and back again.

Vega’s body wanted to lean into his touch, but her brain acted first. She stepped back, driving the heel of her boot into Bridger’s foot as inconspicuously as she could.

His hands fell from her body with the warning, and Vega immediately missed the calm his touch washed over her.

The beep sounded like every other passport scanned before theirs, and the lady’s eyes jumped from the picture to Vega’s face twice.

Vega’s esophagus fought to tighten up and choke her to death.

The woman did the same to Bridger, checking the information on her screen.

Thirty. Thirty-one. Thirty-two. Vega hadn’t realized she’d started counting the seconds, waiting for police to swarm them with guns drawn.

The TSA agent closed both booklets abruptly and handed them back. “Safe travels.”

16

While scarfing down the blandest food he’d ever tasted, Bridger watched planes take off… and then asked Vega at least fifty follow-up questions.

But nothing could have prepared Bridger for the feel of the plane shooting into the sky. His ears popped, and the wing visible outside the window shook like it might snap.

Gripping the armrests, Bridger felt the muscles of his throat constrict. The plane bobbed, forcing his eyes closed.

Vega was oddly quiet. The last time Bridger looked over at her, she looked more relaxed than he’d seen her in decades.

How the fuck is she so calm right now?

“Um, Vega.” Bridger peeked over, his hands still gripping the seats as if he’d fall from the sky if he let go.

“Um, Bridger?” Vega mocked, rolling her head on the seat and opening her eyes.

“I think I’m freaking out a little,” he said with another hard swallow of the saliva he was moments from choking on.

Vega’s lips curved in a sleepy smile. She was enjoying watching him freak out. “I see that.”

Bridger squirmed in his seat, ready to crawl out of his skin. “Do you find this funny?”