would never not think of Special Agent Blaine Campbell.
A noise at her office door startled her, and she jumped.
“Sorry,” the bank manager said. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“It’s not your fault,” she assured him. Even though no attempts had been made to kidnap or kill her the past few days, she was still on edge. Still waiting for the robbers in their hideous masks to burst through the bank doors or into her apartment with their guns drawn.
“Has everything been all right?” he asked.
She nodded instead of uttering a lie. Because everything was not all right—not without Blaine. She ached for him.
“Things are back to normal now,” Mr. Hardy said with a sigh of relief as he gazed around at the bank. The glass had all been repaired. Everything was back in its place as if the robbery had never happened. “And with one of the robbers found dead, maybe the others have gone into hiding.”
“Agent Campbell will catch them,” she said with unshakable confidence.
“Hopefully,” he said, but he sounded doubtful. “I understand that the robber that was found dead was related to you.”
“No,” she said.
“Well,” he said again, his voice rising with a slight whine, “he would’ve been had your fiancé not died.”
She wouldn’t have married Andy, though—even after finding out she carried his child. She hadn’t wanted friendship love in her marriage; she’d wanted passionate love. She had wanted to be in love, not just to love someone. She had finally found that with Blaine, but he didn’t want the instant family he would have with her. He probably didn’t even want a relationship. He was totally focused on his career—so much so that she hadn’t even heard from him.
Mr. Hardy was looking at her strangely. Then Maggie recognized the suspicion. “I was not involved in the robberies,” she said. “I had nothing to do with them.”
Except for those damn letters she’d written. Did he know about those, too?
He nodded. “Of course you didn’t...”
But she heard the doubt in his voice. “I need this job, Mr. Hardy. I wouldn’t have done anything to jeopardize it.”
“Susan Iverson thinks you may have been involved with that man.”
“Susan may have been,” Maggie said. “But I wasn’t. He’s just someone I used to know.” And apparently she hadn’t known him nearly as well as she’d thought she had. “Like Susan, he proved to be someone I couldn’t trust.”
“She claims that the agent totally misread the situation when he found her in your apartment—”
“Stealing my engagement ring,” she said.
“She assured me she wasn’t stealing it,” he defended the blonde bank teller. “That she was only looking for evidence that you were involved in the robberies.”
Maggie shook her head. She’d had enough of people lying and scamming her. “She used my credit cards,” she said. “She can’t explain that away.”
“You owed her rent money.”
Anger surged through her, and she stood up. “That’s a lie. And if you choose to believe her lies over me, maybe I don’t need this job as much as I thought.”
He held out his hands. “Calm down, Maggie. I know this is an emotional time for you. Susan needs her job, too, and if you drop the charges against her, I think you could work together again.”
Blaine had caught the woman in the act of stealing. It wasn’t up to Maggie whether or not charges were pressed. But she didn’t bother explaining that.
“Why are you defending her?” she wondered. And then, as color flooded his face, she realized why. He was involved with the young teller. “Oh...”
“I don’t know what you’re thinking,” he said fearfully, as if he actually did know, “but you’re wrong.”
“No, you’re wrong.” Especially if he had betrayed his wife with the blonde opportunist. “There actually is evidence against her, and she will be prosecuted. I couldn’t drop the charges even if I wanted to.”
Maybe Susan had been involved in the robberies, too. Maggie wouldn’t put anything past the woman. She was a user. Mr. Hardy would figure that out soon enough. Disgusted with him, she grabbed her purse and said, “I’m going home.”
“Yes, get some rest and think about it,” he suggested.
Maybe Maggie needed to return to the branch where she had previously worked. She couldn’t work for Mr. Hardy anymore. She couldn’t work with Susan Iverson. Maybe she needed to join her parents in Hong Kong. It wasn’t as if Blaine would miss her. He had gone days with no contact.
As she headed out the door, her new protector followed her. The burly young man, Truman Jackson, was something with the Bureau—maybe a new recruit. Since there had been no recent attempts to grab her, she doubted they would have wasted a special agent on babysitting duty. She had been lucky to have Blaine as long as she had.
“Are you all right, Miss Jenkins?” the young man asked as he helped her into his unmarked vehicle.
“Maggie,” she corrected him as she had the past few days. “And I’m fine.”
“But you’re leaving early...”
She hadn’t done that the past couple of days. In fact, she had worked late, trying to catch up from the time the bank had been closed for repairs.
“I’m tired,” she said. And that was no lie. She was exhausted. From looking over her shoulder. From worrying.
From missing Blaine.
“So you want to go right back to your apartment?” Truman asked.
“Yes, please,” she said, and happy that he was driving, she closed her eyes and relaxed as much as she could.
“Do you think I’ll need protection much longer?” she asked. If no more attempts were made on her life...
“I couldn’t say, Maggie.”
“Do you know if Special Agent Campbell has gotten any closer to apprehending the other bank robbers?” She wanted to know what was going on with the case, but most of all she wanted to know what was going on with Blaine.
Was he okay? Had he recovered completely from the fire? Had anyone tried to kill him again?
Truman shrugged his broad shoulders; one of them nudged hers. “I don’t know,” he replied. “Do you have his number? Could you call and ask?”
No. She hadn’t been given his number. He had barely looked at her as he’d passed off her protection to someone else.
“I don’t want to bother him,” she said. And that
