Page 9 of Blood in the Water
He kissed her and had to force himself to pull away. He wanted to linger, to pull her back into the haven of their bed, to remove the underwear and bra she’d just put on, map her body with his hands and tongue, an exploration that never tired him.
“Bridge…”
She shook her head and stood again, this time pulling on her jeans. “Don’t say it, Nolan.”
“I can get you out — you and Owen and your parents. Call it a vaca — ”
“We’re not leaving.”
“Why not?” He got out of bed, picked his jeans up off the floor, and shoved his legs into them, fighting a surge of anger that was only present to hide the fear jumping through his veins — fear that something would happen to Bridget before he and the Syndicate could take out Seamus, fear that they would never get the forever he wanted. “Because I’d be paying for it? I don’t give a shit about the money, Bridget. Why should you?”
She pulled her sweater over her head and looked at him across the bed. “It’s not just about the money. I’d have to tell my parents everything about Seamus and the work I do for him and the debt I’ve incurred. And Owen’s treatments are complicated, Nolan. I can’t just put him on a plane and take him to the beach somewhere. He can hardly eat anymore, can hardly talk.” Tears spilled down her cheeks, her voice thickening with barely controlled emotion. “He’s getting worse every day and… it’s just not as simple as you want it to be.”
He walked around the bed and put his arms around her as she let loose her grief, her body shuddering against his. “I’m sorry, Bridge. I won’t pretend to know everything you’re going through, but I know it’s not easy.” He kissed the top of her head. “I can charter a plane with a full medical staff, hire an attendant who’s experienced in dealing with Owen’s condition. I’ll make sure the hospital close to wherever you end up has Owen’s records, that they’re prepared to care for him. Hell, I’ll rent a whole fucking floor if I have to.”
She sighed and looked up at him, her cheeks streakedwith tears. “My parents would never allow you to do that. I’m not even sure Owen would want to do it. Routine makes managing his condition easier. He knows how to navigate the house, knows what to expect from his surroundings even if he can’t know what to expect from his body from one minute to the next. Forcing him to leave would freak him out, and honestly, I don’t think we’d be any safer. They’d find us if they really wanted to.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed him. “But thank you for the offer.”
He looked down at her. “I can keep you safe here for now, but I don’t know that will always be true. If Seamus really is planning another theft, things are only going to get more dangerous. He’s going to get more paranoid, more likely to close ranks.”
“I’m probably safer than you are. I’m his lawyer. He needs me.”
She wasn’t accounting for the fact that there were fates worse than death, that while Seamus could put a bullet in Nolan’s head, he could do far worse to Bridget — at the Playpen or elsewhere.
It wasn’t an oversight. He knew she didn’t want to think about the possibility, and while he didn’t blame her, it wasn’t a possibility he could ignore.
“I’m not sure I agree.” He broke away from her. “Wait here.”
He reached into his pocket, found what he was looking for, and held out the burner phone he’d bought on his way to the apartment.
“Take this. I’ll only text or call the number if I hear Seamus is having you followed.”
She looked down at it. “Do you really think this is necessary?”
“I do.” Bridget got calls and texts all day long — fromclients, from her parents and Rachel, from Nolan. Sometimes it took her hours to respond. “If you hear it ring, you’ll know it’s urgent.”
She took it from him. “All right.”
He held her face in his hands and bent to kiss her. “Promise me if things get worse you’ll consider my offer.”
She nodded.
“I mean it, Bridge. Don’t just say you’ll consider it to get me off your back. Promise me you’ll really stay open to the possibility of leaving town.”
“I will. I promise.”
He kissed her again, leaned his forehead against hers, and looked into her eyes. “You want to leave first or should I?”
“Neither.”
He smiled. “Someday.”
He tried to imagine it: a day when he and Bridget wouldn’t have to hide, wouldn’t have to pretend, wouldn’t have to say goodbye. It felt like a fairytale.
Now they just had to live long enough to get to the happy ending.
4
Bridget was ten minutes from home when she got the text from Seamus asking her to come to the Cat. He always “asked” but they both knew it wasn’t a request, and she turned the car around and headed toward the bar.