Watching Over Her

Chapter Eleven

Blaine cursed and jerked the wheel, steering the SUV away from the shoulder. Gravel spewed from the tires as the SUV fishtailed, the back end sliding toward that steep drop-off to the rocky shore below. He needed all four tires on the pavement before he could accelerate. But before he could regain complete control, the van struck again. Metal crunched on the rear door of the passenger’s side.

Too close to Maggie and her baby.

He had just promised that he would protect them. It was a promise that he’d had no business making. As a marine, he knew that there were promises that couldn’t be kept—the way all his fallen friends had promised their families they would come home again. It was a promise that Maggie’s fiancé had probably made to her when he’d given her that ring.

Blaine was not about to break his promise. At least not yet.

He pressed on the accelerator, taking the curve at such a high speed that a couple of the tires might have left the asphalt again. The black cargo van skidded around the corner behind him, its tires slipping off the pavement onto the gravel shoulder. So close to that dangerous edge, the van slowed down, and Blaine increased the distance between them.

He had grown up driving on roads like this—roads that curved sharply around lakes. But there had been mountains to maneuver, too, in New Hampshire. So he wasn’t fazed. But neither was the driver of the van as he regained control and closed the distance between them again.

Blaine wanted to reach for his gun; he wanted to shoot out the van’s tires and windshield. He wanted to do anything he could to stop the van from slamming into them again. But he needed both hands on the wheel to keep the SUV from plummeting over the rocky shoulder, and he didn’t want Maggie trying to use his weapon.

He didn’t want Maggie doing anything but hanging on—especially as the van made contact with them again. But the SUV absorbed the impact better than the van did.

In the rearview mirror, Blaine caught sight of a dark cloud as smoke began to billow from beneath the hood of the vehicle behind them. The rear bumper of the SUV was probably mangled, but so were the front bumper and the grille of the van.

If the radiator was ruined, it wasn’t going to get far. He could just wait for it to stop running and try to apprehend the driver and whoever else was riding with him. But Blaine had no idea how many people were inside the van or how much firepower they had.

Even if he hadn’t just made that promise to protect them, he couldn’t risk the safety of Maggie and the baby. So he accelerated again and took the curves at breakneck speed. Maggie’s hands were still pressed against the dashboard as she braced herself and her baby for another hit.

But the van didn’t catch up again.

Blaine slowed down and, using his cell, called in the attempt to run them off the road. He described the van and then he asked for the nearest hospital.

“Do you think one of them was hurt?” Maggie asked as she peered behind them. But the van was no longer in view.

It might be where Blaine had left it smoking. Or the driver might have turned it around and tried to get somewhere they could hide it—the way they had tried to hide the getaway van between those Dumpsters in the alley.

He doubted blood would be found inside this van. He hadn’t been able to take any shots at them. So he explained, “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

Her face was eerily pale, and he could see the frantic beat of her pulse pounding in her throat.

“No, you’re not fine,” he argued, as he followed the directions the local dispatcher had given him to the hospital.

If there was something wrong with her or the baby, it was his fault. He should not have brought her along with him. He hadn’t been any better at protecting her than the young officer the night before. Even with the van chasing them, he should have driven more carefully.

He slowed down on his way to the hospital. But he wanted her checked out. He wanted to make sure that she and the baby were fine.

Before he left them...

* * *

BLAINE HAD INTENDED to leave as soon as a doctor had taken Maggie into the ER to be checked out. But before he could cross the waiting room to the exit doors, another FBI agent, badge dangling down the front of a black leather jacket, showed up at the hospital.

“Agent Dalton Reyes,” the dark-haired man introduced himself, hand outstretched. He didn’t look much like the proverbial men in black since he wore a jacket and jeans instead of a dark suit.

But Blaine wasn’t wearing a suit, either—just black pants and shirt. Since interrupting the robbery in progress, he hadn’t had an opportunity to even take his suits out of their dry-cleaning bags.

“Reyes?” Ash had mentioned the young agent before. The Bureau had recruited him from an undercover gang task force with the Chicago PD. “You work organized crime?”

The dark head bobbed in a quick nod. “Yeah. Right now I’m working on a car-theft ring. The black cargo van that just tried running you off the road was recovered. It’s one these thieves grabbed yesterday. This ring is very organized and very professional. You put in a request, and they’ll steal the vehicle you want.”

Blaine had put out a request himself—for information on a ring just like this. “Thanks for getting back to me about this, but you could have just called...”

Reyes grinned. “I could’ve, but then I wouldn’t have gotten a chance to meet the infamous Blaine Campbell.”

“Infamous?” Blaine asked. He didn’t think that adjective had ever been used for him before.

“You’ve got quite a reputation.”

He groaned. “What has Ash told you?”

Dalton laughed. “Ash doesn’t talk. But he’s damn good at getting other people to talk.”

He was new to the Chicago Bureau, so people were bound to talk about him. To wonder what his story was, to worry that he might move up ahead of agents who had been there longer. He didn’t care to move into management; he just wanted to take criminals off the street. He had never wanted to put anyone away more than these suspects. They’d already killed Sarge and were determined to kill Maggie, too.

“How about you?” Blaine asked, turning the conversation back to what he really cared about: the case. “Can you get these car thieves to tell you who’s been putting in the requests for these vans?”

“I’ve got an inside man,” Dalton said. “So I’ve got confirmation that the bank robbers have been paying—and paying big—to get disposable vehicles for the bank heists.”

“Who?” he asked. “Who the hell are these robbers?”

Dalton shrugged. “My guys aren’t the kind who care about names. In fact, they would probably rather not know. The only thing they care about is cash.”

Blaine cursed as frustration overwhelmed him. He needed a lead and some hard evidence. “Does your inside man at least have a description of the guy ordering the vans?”

“Good-looking guy with dark hair and light eyes,” Dalton replied with a chuckle. “My inside man is actually a woman.”

That description matched the man from the security footage—the man who’d lifted Maggie into his arms. “I’ll send you a picture to see if she can confirm it’s my guy.”

Blaine would forward him a screen shot from the security cameras as well as Mark Doremire’s DMV picture. If he was the man, Blaine could link him to the vans and therefore the robberies. Maggie would have to accept his involvement.

But then it would probably be like losing Andy again—to lose another piece of him when she realized his brother wasn’t the man she’d thought he was.

He hadn’t been checking up on her as his brother had requested. He’d been casing the banks where she worked.

Dalton nodded. “Send me the photo. I’ll get it to my informant right away. Whatever you need to get these guys, let me know. I’m happy to help.”

He obviously knew about Sarge. Blaine sighed. “Ash must’ve talked some.”

Reyes nodded again. “Yeah. He said this one’s personal for you both.”

It was, but not just because of Sarge. It was personal because of Maggie, too.

“He thinks it might be extra personal for you, though,” Reyes continued, “because of the witness.”

He glanced toward the ER, where Blaine kept looking, wondering how Maggie and the baby were.

“Ash talks too damn much,” he said.

Reyes chuckled. “He’s worried about you. He thought I should tell you about another agent who works out of the Chicago Bureau, Special Agent Bell. He works serial killers.”

“Maggie’s not a serial killer,” Blaine said. She was not a criminal at all. “She’s a victim.”

“Yeah, Bell got too personally involved with a victim’s sister,” Reyes said. “It’s the case he never solved. The serial killer he never caught.”

Would these suspects be the ones that Blaine never caught—because he cared too much?

* * *

“YOU CAN’T GO!” Maggie exclaimed as she clutched at Blaine’s arm, panicking at the thought of being separated from him. Since the first moment she’d met him, she’d thought him a golden-haired superhero, and every time he saved her life he proved that he was her hero.

“There are local authorities here,” he said, gesturing with his free arm to where two police officers stood near the nurses’ station. “You’ll be safe.”

She shook her head in protest. He couldn’t pass her off to someone else again. He couldn’t leave her. She was afraid that she wouldn’t be able to protect her baby without him. “I’m not safe anywhere. Except with you.”

“Not even with me.”

“You kept me safe,” she said. “They were trying to run us off the road. We would have been killed if you hadn’t driven the way you had.”

His voice gruff, he brushed off her gratitude. “But I could have hurt you...”

“The doctor said that the baby and I are both fine,” she reminded him. “I can leave now. They don’t need to keep me for observation.” Blaine was the only one who wanted her to stay in the hospital with the local deputies guarding her. “I can leave with you now.”

He wouldn’t meet her gaze, just shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” she asked. “Where are you going? Have they found the van?” She’d seen the smoke from under the hood. It probably hadn’t gotten very far.

“The van has already been recovered,” he said. “Empty. And it had been stolen.”

“So you’re not going there,” she said. “So where are you going?” That he didn’t want her along. Had he found another lead he was pursuing? Was he going to put himself in danger?

The thought of that scared her as much as being without his protection. She didn’t want anything happening to Blaine. Maybe it was just the danger and the fear that had her so attached to him, but she had never felt like this before. She had never been as drawn to another person.

“I’m going to Andy’s dad’s house,” he said. “I confirmed that he is still living in the house where Andy grew up.”

She hadn’t wanted to go back there, now that Andy was gone. “I thought you wanted me to go along.”

“I was wrong to even consider taking you there,” he said. “It’s too dangerous.”

“It’s Andy’s dad—”

“And maybe his brother.”

If they believed Tammy...

Maggie wasn’t so sure that they should. While Mark had always been caring and friendly, sometimes too friendly, Tammy had always seemed cold to her—even at Andy’s funeral. Maybe that was just because Mark had been too friendly.

But Tammy wasn’t at the dad’s house. “They’re not going to hurt me,” she said. “I’ve known his dad for years.” But, truthfully, she hadn’t known Andy’s parents that well. They had usually hung out at her house or around town more than at Andy’s.

“Maybe his dad wouldn’t hurt you,” Blaine said. “But you’re wrong about his brother. The description of the guy who ordered the stolen vans matches Mark’s description.”

“Dark hair? Blue eyes?” She shrugged. “A lot of guys look like that.” Except for Blaine. She had never seen a man as attractive as he was, but it wasn’t just his looks. It was his protectiveness and his courage and his intelligence that she found even more compelling than his physical appearance.

“I sent someone a picture of Mark for a positive ID,” he said.

“It won’t be,” Maggie said. She refused to accept that Andy’s big brother could be robbing banks. “Mark wouldn’t hurt me.” He had promised Andy that he would take care of her. He would never break his promise to his brother.

Blaine sighed as if exasperated with her. Maybe that was why he wanted to leave her at the hospital. He was tired of her. “Don’t you think it’s strange that we were run off the road shortly after leaving his house?”

Her heart—that had finally slowed from a frantic beat—started pounding hard again. “No...” She really didn’t want Mark involved. “That van could have followed us from the bank.”

“I doubt it,” Blaine replied. “I was too careful. I didn’t see anyone following us. I think Mark was either in that house or his wife called him and told him where we were heading.”

“But you didn’t say where,” she reminded him. “You said that we would come back to their house the next day. If they were involved, wouldn’t they have just waited for us to come back?”

“Or they’ll make damn sure they’re gone before tomorrow.” He pushed a hand through his disheveled blond hair. “Hell, they could be gone now. I have to go.”

She didn’t release his arm. “You can’t go without me.” She hadn’t wanted to go back to Andy’s house, hadn’t wanted to relive the past. But now she was more afraid of the future. She didn’t want to be separated from Blaine and she wasn’t sure it was just because she was scared.

“I can’t put you in danger again,” he said.

“I won’t be in any danger,” she said. “This is Andy’s family. I’m carrying Andy’s baby. They’re not going to hurt me.” They wouldn’t want to lose that last piece of Andy any more than she did.

His mouth curved into a slight grin. “What about me?”

“They’re not bad people,” she said. “They won’t hurt you, either.”

“That wasn’t what I meant.” He stared at her, his green gaze tumultuous with regret. “I’m worried that I’m going to hurt you.”

“You’ve saved my life again and again,” she reminded him. She would never forget how he had protected her and her baby. Maybe gratefulness was the feeling overwhelming her and making her panic at the thought of him leaving her. But it didn’t feel like just gratitude. “You’re not going to hurt me.”

Physically—he wouldn’t. She knew that he would protect her from physical harm. He had proved that over and over again.

But he was only doing his job. And she had to remember that. She had to remember that, when he caught the robbers, Blaine would move on to his next assignment, and he would leave her.

For good.

So he probably would hurt her. Emotionally. If she let herself fall for him...

But she wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t risk her heart on anyone right now. She was going to save all her love for her baby.

Chapter Twelve

Maggie was getting to him in a way that no one had ever gotten to Blaine before. He couldn’t even draw a deep breath for the panic pressing on his chest.

What had he been thinking to bring her along? He shook his head in self-disgust.

“What?” she asked from the passenger seat of the battered SUV.

“I shouldn’t have brought you...”

“I told you that I won’t be in any danger.”

Maybe she wouldn’t be. But he was worried that he was in danger. He was in danger of falling for her. And that would be the biggest mistake he’d ever made.

It wasn’t that he still believed she was involved in the robberies. But he would be a fool to totally rule out the possibility. Even though there were attempts being made on her life, it could be to silence her, so that she wouldn’t reveal her coconspirators. But he doubted that. If she actually knew anything about the robbers, she would have told him by now; she was too scared to keep secrets any longer.

The reason it would be a mistake for him to fall for Maggie Jenkins was because she was in love with another man. He suspected she would forever love her dead fiancé.

That was why she had insisted on coming along with him. To protect Andy’s family from him.

“I really don’t believe they’re involved,” she insisted. And he wondered now if she was trying to convince herself or him.

“Andy could have told them what you had shared with him about the bank,” he said. “What did you share with him?” And how did it tie in to the robberies?

“I rambled on,” she said, “like I usually do since I talk so much. I complained about working harder than the manager. I told him what my duties were—how I handled the money deliveries and pickups—how I knew the security code for the back door and the vault.”

That information had definitely been used in the robberies. Even at the other banks, the robbers had threatened the assistant managers and never questioned the managers.

“It sounds like Andy shared that information with his brother.” And Mark had used it to rob all the banks.

She shook her head, tumbling her brown curls around her shoulders. “Andy wouldn’t talk to anyone about my job.”

“Why not?” he asked, and he wondered about her dismissive tone.

She shrugged. “It’s not very interesting.”

“It’s not?”

“Most of the time it’s very boring,” she said.

Had Andy thought her job boring and uninteresting? “But you told him about it anyway?”

“I wrote about it,” she said. “I guess my letters to him were kind of like writing in a journal. I complained about stupid policies and procedures.”

“You wrote him letters?”

“Yes,” she said. “Didn’t I tell you that before?”

“Not about the letters—just that Andy was the only person you’d told about your job,” he said. Because she told Andy everything. He’d thought that had been in person, though. “Where are the letters now? Did you get them back?”

She shook her head. “No. I don’t know what would have happened to them after he...after he...” She trailed off, unable to talk of his death. Of her loss...

“His personal effects would have been returned to his family,” Blaine said. He was definitely right about Andy’s family; they had to be involved in the robberies.

Maggie sucked in a breath, as if she had just realized it, too. “But they wouldn’t have read his personal letters...”

“If they miss him as much as you do,” he pointed out, “they might have.”

“But those are letters that I wrote to him,” she said, her voice cracking with emotion. “They’re not the letters he wrote to me. They’re not about Andy and his life.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. She had every right to be angry. “Those letters should have been returned to you. They’re your personal thoughts and feelings. Hell, you were his fiancée. You should have gotten everything.”

She shook her head in denial. “We weren’t married. So his personal effects should have gone to his family.”

“You’re family—you and his baby,” Blaine said. “His parents and brother should have at least given you those letters.”

“Maybe they just didn’t have time...” She kept defending them.

Maybe she was naive. Maybe she just tried to see the best in everyone. But that was how she had wound up with Susan Iverson as a roommate. She didn’t need protection just now; she needed it every day. She needed protection from her own sweetness and generosity.

“His brother’s been checking on you,” he said. The image from the security footage of him hugging her hadn’t left his mind. “He could have brought the letters to you then. He’s had six months to get them to you.” Unless he had been using them for something else—to help him plan the bank robberies.

“We’re here,” she said with a sigh of relief as he pulled the battered SUV to the curb across the street from the brick Cape Cod.

He could have sworn earlier today that she hadn’t wanted to come back here. Of course, she thought she was going to prove to him that Andy’s family wasn’t involved. But with every new thing he learned, his suspicions about them grew. He didn’t even need confirmation from Dalton Reyes that Mark Doremire was the one ordering those stolen vans.

He was so convinced that Doremire was involved that he’d had a local officer watching the house before they arrived. The car was parked a little way down the street. Too far down the street if Doremire and his father were armed. The other men from the bank could be there, too.

Maggie reached for her door handle, but Blaine caught her arm and held her back from opening the door. With his other hand, he grabbed his cell and checked in with the officer.

“Nobody’s come or gone, Agent Campbell,” the officer assured him.

So what did that mean? That they had holed up in the house with weapons? At least the driver of the van, and whoever else might have been riding inside, couldn’t have joined them. They wouldn’t have had time to ditch the van for another vehicle and drive up without the officer seeing them.

Blaine clicked off the cell and turned back to Maggie. “I want you to stay here until I check out the inside of the house.”

“Mr. Doremire may not let you in unless he sees me,” she warned him. “Andy’s parents kind of kept to themselves when we were growing up. They didn’t socialize much. So he’s not going to open his door to a stranger.”

Blaine tugged his badge out of his shirt. He wasn’t hiding it this time. “This will get him to open the door,” he said. Or he would knock down the damn thing. “You need to stay here until I determine if it’s safe or not.”

He waited until she reluctantly nodded in agreement before he stepped out the driver’s side. But moments later Mr. Doremire proved her right. When Blaine knocked on the door, a raspy voice angrily called out, “Go away!”

“I am Special Agent Campbell with the FBI,” Blaine identified himself. “I need you to open up this door, sir. I need to talk to you about your son.”

“It’s too late for that!”

That was what Blaine was afraid of. That Mark was already gone—that he’d taken off to some country from which he couldn’t be extradited. But then, who had tried running them off the road on the way here? Only Mark would have known they had stopped at his house looking for him. Only Mark would have known where they’d been heading.

“Go away!” the older man yelled again.

“Let me try,” a soft voice suggested as Maggie joined him at the solid wood door to the Cape Cod. It was painted black—like the shingles on the roof. And there was no welcome mat.

“I told you to stay in the vehicle,” he reminded her. Even with the squad car not far away, she wasn’t safe; someone could have taken a shot at her as she had crossed the street.

Ignoring him, she knocked on the door. “Mr. Doremire, it’s me—it’s Maggie. Please let us in...”

Inside the house, something crashed and then heavy footfalls approached the door. It was wrenched open, and a gray-haired man stared at them from bloodshot eyes.

Blaine could smell the alcohol even before the man spoke. “Have you heard from him?” he demanded to know.

“Mark has been by to see me,” she said. “At the bank. Is he here?”

“Mark?” the older man repeated, as if he didn’t even recognize the name of his eldest son. “I’m not talking about Mark.”

Did the man have other boys? Maybe there were more Doremires involved than Blaine had realized. Maybe they made up the entire gang.

But Maggie’s brow furrowed with confusion, and she asked, “Who are you talking about?”

“Andy,” Mr. Doremire replied, as if she was stupid. “Have you heard from Andy yet?”

She reached out and clasped the older man’s arm and led him back inside the house. “I’m sorry, Mr. Doremire,” she said as she guided him back into his easy chair. A bottle of whiskey lay broken next to the chair. But no liquor had spilled onto the hardwood floor. He’d already emptied it.