she’d moved from Sturgis to the Chicago suburb where she lived now. But the robbers had followed her.
Was it only the coincidence she wanted to believe it was? After all, the bank she’d worked at before and the one she worked at now weren’t the only ones that had been robbed.
But that danger wasn’t the only thing Maggie hadn’t been able to leave in her past. When she’d let Susan stay with her, the woman had pried into her life. She’d learned about Andy. That was how Mr. Simmons had heard Maggie’s sad story. Susan had used it when she’d been late with her part of the rent.
So Maggie hadn’t been able to escape her guilt and loss, either. It had followed her, or maybe she was carrying it with her. She clasped her hands over the baby. She didn’t want to escape him or her, though. She wanted to protect her baby—the way she hadn’t been able to protect Andy. She’d thought that she was saving him from pain by keeping the truth of her feelings from him.
Maybe there was no escape from her past. But what about the danger? Was she really safe here?
Moments later she had her answer as gunfire erupted outside the motel room. She wasn’t safe. The robbers had come for her again.
And this time Agent Campbell wouldn’t arrive in time to save her...
In the dark Blaine fumbled around the top of the doorjamb for the key his friend had left for him. “I found it,” he told Ash through the cell phone pressed to his ear. “I can’t believe it’s still here.”
If he’d left a key outside his apartment in Detroit, it wouldn’t have been there long; neither would any of the stuff in his apartment. He wouldn’t have thought a Chicago suburb would be much safer—especially after he’d found an intruder in Maggie Jenkins’s apartment.
Of course, that intruder had been someone she knew. Apparently she hadn’t known her that well, though, if she’d ever trusted the treacherous woman. Not only had Susan tried to steal Maggie’s engagement ring, but when Blaine searched her purse, he found that she’d helped herself to Maggie’s credit and debit cards, as well.
Blaine blindly slid the key into the lock and quietly opened the door. Ignoring Ash’s voice in his ear, he listened carefully for any sounds within the small bungalow. It was the only dark house on the street; that was how Ash had told him to find it.
At this hour everyone else was home—probably watching TV after dinner. What was Maggie Jenkins doing right now?
Eating?
Sleeping?
She’d looked exhausted. Maybe he should have insisted that she stay at the hospital for observation. But then, she hadn’t been safe there, either.
“I told the neighbors to expect a tall blond guy to show up at my door within the next couple of days,” Ash said.
This was the kind of neighborhood where people watched out their windows, aware of their surroundings and strangers. Because of Ash’s warning, they gave Blaine only a cursory glance before their curtains and blinds snapped back into place and they returned to their television shows.
Blaine pushed open the door to a dark and empty house. “Thanks for giving them the heads-up,” he said. “And thanks for letting me crash here.”
Ash Stryker was also an FBI special agent but with the antiterrorism division, so he traveled more than Blaine did. Right now he was in DC or New York; Blaine couldn’t remember which city. Hell, maybe it was neither. Since he specialized in homegrown terrorism, he could have been off in the woods somewhere. Blaine knew better than to ask. Ash was rarely at liberty to say.
“Thanks for calling me about Sarge,” his friend replied, his voice gruff with emotion.
Blaine stopped in midreach for the light switch. While he dealt with his emotions over losing Sarge, he would rather stay in the dark, but he hadn’t wanted to leave Ash there. He’d had to tell him about their loss. He and Ash went back before the Bureau. They had been marines together, too.
“I’m sorry,” Blaine said. “So damn sorry...”
If only he could have done something.
If only he could have stopped Sarge from stepping out from behind that damn pillar.
But Sarge had reacted instinctively to Maggie’s scream and had come to her rescue. If the former military man had actually thought she’d been involved in the robberies, he probably wouldn’t have tried so hard to save her. But maybe he still would have done it—out of loyalty to her dead fiancé. He suspected Sarge had been Andy’s drill instructor, as well.
“I’m going to try to make it home for his funeral,” Ash promised. “Let me know when it is.”
“Sure thing,” Blaine replied. He knew his friend hated going to funerals as much as he did because they had attended way too many. They’d had so many friends who hadn’t made it home—like Maggie’s fiancé. “I’ll tell you as soon as I find out when the arrangements are.”
“Thanks,” Ash said. “And feel free to make yourself at home.”
“I won’t be here long enough,” Blaine said. He was more determined than ever to catch these bank robbers. He flipped on the switch and an overhead light flickered on, illuminating the sparsely furnished living room.
“I’m not there much, either.” Ash stated the obvious. “If my uncle hadn’t left me the place, I would probably just rent an apartment or a hotel room for when I’m in the city.”
Blaine had wondered why his friend owned a house. Ash was a confirmed bachelor. The only commitment he’d ever made was to their country and the Bureau. “Like me,” Blaine murmured.
Ash chuckled. “Well, you have sisters you can crash with when you have the urge to feel domestic.”
Blaine groaned as he thought of the noise and chaos of his sisters’ households. Kids crying. Throwing toys. His sisters yelling at their husbands. “Staying with them and their families reminds me why I’m single.”
But then he thought of Maggie Jenkins and the baby that had moved beneath his touch. Maggie, with her friendly chatter, would fit in well with his family. Hell, she would fit in better than he ever had.
“So I’m warning you,” Ash said, “that the fridge and cupboards are probably bare. There are take-out menus in the cupboard drawer by the fridge, though.”
Blaine didn’t feel like eating. Ever since that bullet had struck Sarge’s chest, he had felt sick. Maggie Jenkins hadn’t made him feel any better. He’d had local authorities take her into protective custody at a nearby motel. She would be safe.
He didn’t need to worry about her. But he was worried. Did the single mom-to-be have anyone she could trust? Even her former roommate had been trying to steal from her. After interrogating Susan Iverson, Blaine believed that was probably the woman’s only crime. He didn’t think she was smart enough to be able to hide it if she were involved in the bank robberies.
“It’s not your fault,” Ash assured him. “You know Sarge. He would have never
