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“Target neutralized,” she noted flatly, though Bridger detected a hint of satisfaction in her voice.
Hands trembling, he powered down the cheap cell phone Romero had used as a detonator. It took everything he had not to slam it to the ground and stomp it into dust, but Paige and Tai would want to examine the thing. He settled for tearing off the plastic back and ripping out the battery, hurling it as far as he could before slipping the thing into a vest pocket.
Romero groaned and whimpered and cursed. Blood pooled beneath him from twin wounds in his thighs. Dead center, both shots, missing both bone and femoral arteries. Incapacitating wounds, but far from fatal.
Bridger raised an eyebrow. “Two shots?”
Pegs shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed. “My bad.”
He met her gaze again and they exchanged a look of mutual respect and gratitude.
“Still sharp,” he complimented her.
She shook her head, though his compliment clearly pleased her. “And you’re still taking stupid chances.” She pointed at the helo. “Med kit behind the pilot’s seat?”
Eyes on their prisoner, Bridger nodded and pulled out his cell phone. His hands were still shaking so hard he could barely hold the thing.
What if they’d failed? He wouldn’t be calling Tai in triumph, ordering him to rip that IED off Jane’s waist. He wouldn’t be––
Pegs grabbed his arm, jerking hard until he met her gaze. “Don’t go there,” she ordered. “Don’t ever go there.”
He choked down the wave of emotion making him sweat and shake. “Message received. Thanks.”
“No problem.” She sprinted for the helo.
He punched in Tai’s number, breathing hard until his friend answered.
“IED neutralized,” he said before his friend could speak. “One hundred percent neutralized.”
“Glory be.” Tai sighed, the most heartfelt sound Bridger had heard from the man in years.
“Glory be,” Tai repeated. “Bravo Zulu, my man. Bravo Zulu. IED’s dead,” he shouted, probably at Jane and Paige. “Let’s get that thing off her.”
Tears welled in Bridger’s eyes. He dashed them away, but he couldn’t seem to dislodge the sharp stone in his throat. “I’ll leave you to it,” he said. “We’ll debrief once I land. Let’s meet up at the airstrip.”
“You need any help with the clean up?”
“Negatory. Pegs has it covered. I’m heading back to home base,” he told Tai, eyes scanning the horizon instinctively. “ETA as fast as I can get in the air. I’ll see you soon, brother.”
“We’ll be waiting. Some of us more impatiently than others,” Tai added and terminated the call.
Whatever that meant. Bridger shook his head. No time to unravel Tai’s cryptic comments now.
Bandages in hand, Pegs knelt next to the injured man, now zip-tied and seething at her feet.
Bridger edged up to the snake and dipped a hand into the man’s jacket pockets, coming up with the thumb drive on the second try.
“His NSA buddies are gonna wanna talk,” he noted.
“Won’t be a very long conversation.” Pegs straightened, cleaning her hands with a sanitary wipe.
The man’s eyelids fluttered shut, his face slackening as the morphine took effect.
Bridger surveyed the remote area. “First responders’ll be at least half an hour out. Maybe more.”
Pegs stared down at the man, a cold, blank look devoid of all feeling. “I shot him up with enough morphine to last him a while, and I didn’t hit any major arteries.” She sounded disappointed. “He can wait.”
“You gonna stick around?” Bridger asked her.
