the baby. She had to protect her baby. She had nearly three months left of her pregnancy—three months to keep her unborn child safe. She hadn’t realized how hard that might be.
“My questions can wait,” the FBI agent told her, “until you’ve been thoroughly checked out.” He turned toward the paramedics. “Which hospital will you take her to?”
“Med West,” the woman paramedic replied. “You can ride along and question her in the back of the rig.”
Maggie stilled her trembling as she waited for his reply. She wanted him to agree; she felt safer with him close. She felt safe in his arms...
And after what had happened—again—she would have doubted she would ever feel safe. Anywhere.
“Agent Campbell,” one of the officers called out to him. He didn’t pull his gaze from her, his green eyes intense on her face. The officer continued anyway. “We located the van.”
That got the agent’s attention; he turned away from her. “And the robbers?”
The officer shrugged. “We don’t know if there’s anyone inside. Nobody’s approached it yet.”
Maggie struggled free of the blanket and grabbed the agent’s arm—even though she knew she couldn’t stop him. He was going.
“Be careful,” she advised him.
She had told Andy the same thing when he had left her last, but he hadn’t listened to her. She hoped Agent Campbell did. Or the next time the robbers’ bullets might miss his vest and hit somewhere else instead.
Agent Campbell barely spared her a nod before heading off with the state troopers. He had been lucky during his first confrontation with the thieves, but Andy had been lucky, too, during his first two deployments.
Eventually, though, luck ran out...
* * *
HIS GUN STEADY in one hand, Blaine slid open the side door with the other. But the van was empty. The robbers had ditched it between Dumpsters at the end of an alley.
“This vehicle was reported stolen three days ago,” one of the troopers informed him.
Either they’d stolen it themselves or picked it up from someone who dealt in stolen vehicles. It was a lead that Blaine could follow. Maybe someone had witnessed the theft.
They must have exchanged the van for another vehicle they had stashed close to the bank. They’d had to move quickly, though, so they hadn’t taken time to wipe down the van.
They had left behind forensic evidence. Blaine could see some of it now. Fibers from their clothes. Hair— either from their masks or their own. And blood. It could have been fake; they’d had some on their gruesome disguises. But that hadn’t looked like this.
This blood was smeared and drying already into dark pools.
“You hit one of them?” a trooper asked.
He hoped he’d hit the one who’d killed Sarge. “I fired at them, but I thought they were wearing vests.”
“You must be a good shot,” the trooper replied.
More likely he had gotten off a lucky shot. He was fortunate one of them hadn’t done the same. If they hadn’t been worried that he had backup coming, they probably would have killed him the way they had Sarge.
Blaine sighed. “But the suspect wasn’t hurt so badly that he couldn’t get away.” As they had all gotten away. But at least one of them had not been unscathed.
“Put out an APB that one of the suspects might be seeking medical treatment for a gunshot wound,” Blaine said, “at a hospital or doctor’s office or med center. Hell, don’t rule out a vet clinic. These guys will not want the wound getting reported.” And doctors were legally obligated to report gunshot wounds.
So he wouldn’t worry that he had sent Maggie Jenkins off to the hospital in the back of that ambulance. He wouldn’t worry that one of the men who had tried to abduct her earlier might get a chance to try again.
Again...
What had she been muttering when he’d walked up to the ambulance? Her already soft voice had been strained from screaming, so he’d struggled to hear, let alone understand, her words. But she’d murmured something about not believing that it had happened. Again...
Had Maggie Jenkins been the victim of a bank robbery before?
The same bank robbers?
Hell, Blaine was worried now. Not just that she might be in danger but that he might have let the best lead to the robbers ride away. Had he let her big, dark eyes and her fear and vulnerability influence his opinion of her?
What if Maggie Jenkins hadn’t been a hostage but a coconspirator?
Maybe Sarge hadn’t been trying to tell him to rescue the assistant bank manager. Maybe he had been trying to tell Blaine to catch her.
Maggie pressed her palms over the hospital gown covering her belly and tried to soothe the child moving inside her. He kept kicking, as though he was still fighting. “I’m sorry, baby,” she said. “I know Mama’s not doing a very good job of keeping you safe.”
But she’d tried.
Why was it that danger kept finding her? She had already changed jobs, or at least locations, but she couldn’t afford to quit. Maybe she should have married Andy one of the times he had suggested it. They had been together since middle school, and she’d loved him. But she hadn’t been in love with him.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. But this time she was talking to Andy.
She should have told him the truth, but he’d enlisted right out of high school and she hadn’t wanted to be the heartless girlfriend who wrote the Dear John letter. And when he’d come home on leave, she had been so happy to see him—so happy to have her best friend back—that she hadn’t wanted to risk losing that friendship.
But eventually she had lost him—to a roadside bomb in Afghanistan. Tears stung her eyes and tickled her nose, but she drew in a shaky breath and steadied herself. She had to be strong—for her baby. Since he had already lost his father, he needed her twice as much.
A hand drew back the curtain of Maggie’s corner of the emergency department. The young physician’s assistant who’d talked to her earlier smiled reassuringly. “I had a doctor and a radiologist review the ultrasound,” the PA said, “and we all agree that your baby is fine.”
Maggie released her breath as a sigh of relief. “That’s great.”
“You, on the other hand, have some bumps and bruises, and your blood pressure is a little high,” the PA continued. “So you need to be careful and take better care of yourself.”
She nodded in agreement. Not that she hadn’t been trying. That had been the whole point of her new job—less stress. But Mr. Hardy
