Page 28 of Shadow Undercover

“How the women in our lives think we need to be cared for. They forget we’re Special Forces soldiers and trained to endure hardship.” Brent shrugged. “It’s different.”

Good description. “Did you get used to it?”

“Haven’t yet.” He smiled. “I’m enjoying it, though.”

One day, maybe Trace would have the opportunity to experience that kind of caring from his woman. “I’m going to the kitchen. Bridget needs food when she wakes.”

“Better get yourself a plate.” Brent grinned. “Otherwise, she won’t eat.”

“Shut up,” Trace muttered and brushed past his chuckling boss.

He walked into the kitchen to see Joe sitting alone at the round table, working on his computer. “Sam asleep?”

“Yeah, in Sorenson’s office. Does Bridget need her?”

Trace waved off his spotter’s concern. “She’s sleeping, too. How is the research going?”

“It’s a good thing the president authorized us to use any force necessary,” he said, tone grim.

“What did you find?”

“Hugo wants as many automatic weapons as he can get. He has buyers in the US lined up.”

“What kind of buyers?”

“Gangs and militia groups.”

Trace whistled softly. “Talk about a bloodbath.”

“Oh, yeah. We need to close the pipeline before the product crosses our borders.”

“Any indication of the transportation method?”

“Not so far. My guess is Hugo will use his father’s drug routes. They’re already established and known to him and the Torino organization.”

“Makes sense.” Trace opened the refrigerator and perused the offerings. Bridget needed food that wouldn’t sit heavy on her stomach.

He pulled out bread, chicken salad, and a container of cut fruit, then found paper plates and napkins, and got to work preparing Bridget’s meal. Once the sandwiches were made and fruit dished up, Trace turned his attention to brewing a cup of chamomile mint tea.

After the heating cycle finished, he grabbed a couple bags of chips and a soft drink for himself. He carried the meal to the recovery room.

Bridget stirred. “Trace?”

“Right here.” He set the plate, chips, and tea mug on a nearby rolling table and positioned it at the side of the bed. “How do you feel?”

“Better. Headache is down to a dull throb.”

“Good. You hungry?”

She shrugged.

“You need to eat whether you’re hungry or not. Your body needs the fuel.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you eating?”

Trace grinned and indicated the plate loaded with sandwiches and fruit. “I didn’t think you would eat this much by yourself.”

“You’re right about that. It looks good, though. What’s in the mug?”

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