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Right. Like driving into the sunset to an unknown destination with a bleeding man next to her was an everyday deal. And then she remembered, to men like Jason and Bridger, it was.
Lucky them.
Bridger reached for the radio dial, twirling it through static until a country song warbled through. “You good with music?”
She shrugged. “I’m more concerned with what you need.”
He slipped lower in his seat and crossed his arms, wincing slightly at the movement before he closed his eyes. “All I need is you, sweetheart. Just keep heading south. Oh, and head east on the two-twenty-nine. Wake me up when we hit Santa Teresa.”
So they were heading to the coast. And he’d called her “sweetheart.” So many feels hit her she had a hard time keeping the Jeep on the road.
Instead of analyzing that little slip, she cranked the music, singing silently along with the chorus, trying to nurture the tiny flame of joy.
8
By the timethey reached the coast, hours later, Bridger was less woozy, but he knew he needed expert care soon. The muscles around the wound pulsed with pain. He didn’t mention a thing to Jane, but even if the bullet had gone clean through, he needed the area disinfected. And he needed some pain meds. Stat.
He’d never been to his mentor’s home, but Pegasus had always made it clear he and his team were welcome any time. Not an invitation the former Special Ops director had made to another living soul, as far as Bridger was aware. In the years since the director’s retirement, their only contact had been a few scattered phone calls. Enough to ensure that he’d still be welcome, at least.
Bridger directed Jane to turn the Jeep down a long dirt road that wound through the trees. Up ahead, a log cabin came into view, perched on the edge of a cliff with a million-dollar view of the craggy peaks beyond.
“Stop here,” he said gruffly.
Jane eased the vehicle to a halt, parking it just out of sight of the cabin. She looked at Bridger questioningly.
“Stay put,” he ordered, avoiding her gaze. “I need to check things out first.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he put up a hand. “Pegasus is touchy about strangers. Give me a minute.”
Lips pursed, Jane nodded.
Edging cautiously out of the Jeep, he stood for a minute to make sure his legs would hold him before he set off toward the cabin. When he was sure he could walk, he made his way cautiously up the drive, gravel crunching under his boots, scanning the tree line for any sign of movement.
The cabin at the end of the drive was well-kept, with a tidy yard. This close to sunset, the thick pines at the edge of the clearing cast deep shadows over the structure. Lights glowed from the windows. Smoke even curled from the chimney. That made him laugh. Pegasus as a homebody. Who would have thought?
Suddenly, a figure burst from the trees, assault rifle aimed squarely at Bridger’s chest. Tall, for a woman, and fit and lean as ever, his mentor approached cautiously, eying him from above the barrel of her rifle. Her silver hair shone in the last of the sun.
He froze, lifting his good arm to put up his hand. “Good to see you, too.”
Weapon still in firing position, his mentor came closer. Her eyes narrowed as she spotted his wound. “You look awful. Who won?”
“The other guy got in a cheap shot.”
She eyed the Jeep.
“She’s with me,” he insisted. “It’s all good.”
“Liar.” She lowered the weapon. “You wouldn’t be here if it was.”
“Fair enough.” And deadly accurate. He wasn’t sure he had enough strength left to tie his shoes. Or even bend over. “We could use some Pegasus Magic.”
“And a place to hide out, I suspect.”
“I assume your offer still stands?”
Pegasus considered him a moment longer before finally lowering the gun. “Had to be sure you came of your own free will. Can’t be too careful these days.”
Her gaze shifted to Jane, eyes quickly assessing. “Who’s she?”
