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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 backed down from a fight—not even when he was outgunned.”
Blaine sighed. “I know, especially since he was determined to protect the bank’s assistant manager.” He’d given up his life for hers and the baby’s.
A large part of Ash’s job was picking up subtext in recorded conversations. That was how he found threats to security. He easily picked up on Blaine’s subtext, too. “Sounds like Sarge might not have been the only one wanting to protect this...woman?”
“Yes,” Blaine admitted. “She’s female. She’s also young and pregnant.” Too young to have already lost her fiancé, her baby’s father...
“Married?” Ash inquired.
“No, her fiancé died in Afghanistan.” And she must miss him so much that she couldn’t even bear to look at the engagement ring he had given her. Blaine patted his pocket, but the ring was gone. He’d handed it over to the local authorities as evidence in Susan Iverson’s attempted robbery—along with Maggie’s credit and debit cards. He would make sure that Maggie got back the cards and the ring.
But he couldn’t bring back what she probably wanted most. Her fiancé...
While Blaine had dated over the years, he’d gotten over the breakups easily enough to know that he had never been in love. He couldn’t relate to Maggie’s pain, losing the man with whom she’d intended to spend the rest of her life. It had been hard enough losing the friends he’d lost over the years and now losing Sarge.
“Was her fiancé one of Sarge’s former drills?”
He sighed. “I think so.” It would explain why, after retiring from the military, Sarge had taken a part-time job in a bank. Maybe he’d heard about Maggie getting robbed at the first bank, and he’d intended to protect her. Or maybe she had switched to the bank where Sarge was working because she’d obviously known him. Sarge had always stayed in touch with his former drills.
“Then the old man would have been happy he died saving her,” Ash said.
Blaine hadn’t expected his cynical friend to come up with such a romantic notion. He blinked hard as his eyes began to burn. “Yeah, he would have been...” He sighed. “But the threat isn’t over for Maggie Jenkins. One of the robbers tried grabbing her from the ER where the paramedics took her after the robbery.”
“You stopped him, though.” Ash just assumed.
“This time.”
“You’ll keep Maggie safe for Sarge.”
Blaine wasn’t so sure about that. He had that feeling again—that chill racing up and down his spine—that told him all was not well. The thought had no more than crossed his mind when his phone beeped with an incoming call.
“I have to go, Ash.” He didn’t waste time with goodbyes, just clicked over the phone to take the next call. “Agent Campbell.”
“Agent, this is Officer Montgomery,” a man identified himself. He then continued, “We have a report of shots fired at the motel where we took the bank-robbery witness.”
He cursed, and his stomach knotted with dread. The motel was nearby, but probably still too far for him to get there in time to save her.
* * *
MAGGIE STARED AT the locked bathroom door, waiting for somebody to kick it down or riddle it with bullets. But as she listened, an eerie silence had fallen where only moments before gunfire had deafened her.
She’d wanted to press her hands over her ears and hide under the covers in the dark motel room. But this wasn’t a nightmare from which she could hide. So she had forced herself to jump out of the bed and run into the bathroom. Once in there she had locked the door and barricaded it shut by wedging the vanity chair beneath the knob. As a barricade, it was flimsy; it wouldn’t take someone much to kick open the door and drag her out.
But she wasn’t worried just about herself or about her baby. Had the officer who’d been stationed