Page 77 of Shadow Undercover

“Be careful.”

He brushed her lips with his. “Always.”

As he walked closer, Trace slid an electronic signal detector from his pocket. He circled the SUV, dividing his attention between the chaser lights and the two terminal clowns watching him from the sidewalk. As he neared the rear fender well on the driver’s side, the chaser lights turned red.

Trace dropped to the ground, peered under the vehicle with his pen light, and saw the GPS tracker. After removing the tracker and setting it aside, he scanned the undercarriage for explosives. Nothing. Excellent. His cover must still be intact. Otherwise, Hugo might have set up an explosive surprise to rid himself of a problem.

He stood and crushed the tracker under his boot heel. Trace returned to Bridget and retrieved his Go bag. Cupping her elbow, he escorted her to the vehicle and tucked her into the passenger seat. He stored their gear on the backseat.

“Trace….”

He signaled for her to wait.

She fell silent, eyes wide.

He reset the signal detector and watched the chaser lights turn red. Couldn’t say he was surprised. Trace turned off the detector. He didn’t want to hunt for the bug right now. He’d rather be on the move than sitting here where they could be picked off by an unfriendly sniper. He’d alert Nico and have one of the Fortress operatives remove the bug.

After sliding the detector into his pocket, Trace brushed his lips over Bridget’s. He pressed a trail of light kisses over her cheek to her ear and whispered, “Bugged. Tourist time.”

When he drove toward their hotel, Bridget began one of the conversations they’d practiced with an audience in mind.

Stopped at a red light, Trace sent a text informing Nico of the tail trailing the SUV from the airfield.

Ten minutes later, he parked in the underground garage of their hotel. Trace signaled Bridget to wait in the vehicle until he made sure she was safe.

Bridget had been wise to insist he teach her the team’s hand signals. Fortunately, she was a quick study. Since self-defense lessons and reinforcing their background stories were priority, he’d taught her hand signals on the jet.

Trace took his time going to the cargo area, quartering the garage for threats. His nape prickled. Someone was watching him. Movement near the stairwell drew his attention. Jake Davenport, Phantom’s medic, eased from the shadows and indicated the area was clear of threats by way of a hand signal against his thigh.

Cognizant of cameras scattered throughout the garage, Trace opened the hatchback without acknowledging the communication. Grateful to have backup, he retrieved their bags and opened Bridget’s door to help her to the concrete.

He urged Bridget toward the stairwell. He didn’t want to be trapped in an elevator without room to maneuver or a place for Bridget to take cover if they were attacked.

Jake waited just inside the stairwell door. “We’re safe. I disabled the camera in here.” He turned to Bridget. “I’m Jake, Phantom’s medic.”

“Bridget.”

“We can’t stay here,” Trace said. “We picked up a tail.”

“No problem. Your suite and the floor are secure. We have rooms across the hall. Shadow is also on that floor. Z tapped into the hotel’s security system and has the camera feed on a loop.”

More tension dissipated. “Let’s move. I don’t want Bridget exposed to more danger than necessary.”

Jake took Bridget’s suitcase and started up the stairs. “I’ll take her to your suite while you check in.”

When they reached lobby level, Trace stared at Jake who acknowledged the silent order to protect Bridget with a short nod. That done, he cupped Bridget’s cheek and dropped a quick kiss to her mouth. “Go with Jake. He’ll keep you safe. I won’t be long.”

The desk clerk’s gaze bounced between Trace and a man lounging on the sofa in the reception area, a cell phone cradled in his hands. “I’ll arrange for refreshments to be sent to your room on the house.” He gave Trace several options. “What would you like?”

Did he believe Trace would accept anything offered to him from the hotel kitchen at the desk clerk’s urging? The food or drink would be drugged or poisoned if Hugo had unraveled Trace’s cover story. “Nothing. My girlfriend wants to explore the city. What restaurant do you recommend?”

“Los Compadres. Their food is excellent. Turn right at the front entrance. The restaurant is three blocks up the street on the right.”

The thug on the couch would hear of the restaurant recommendation as soon as Trace was out of earshot. “Thanks.” He pocketed the key card and strode to the elevator. Although riding in the deathtrap made him twitchy, at least Bridget wasn’t at risk. He jabbed the fourth-floor button and watched the sofa thug hurry to the desk as the silver doors closed.

On his floor, Trace found the suite, knocked, and slid his key card into the slot. As he stepped inside and set his bag by the sofa, Jake turned from his observation post at the balcony door.

“Bridget’s freshening up. I also encouraged her to take pain meds for her ribs.”

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