CHAPTER NINE

Maisy slept poorly, despite her fatigue, stealing short bits of rest between longer bursts of paranoia and anxiety. The last forty-eight hours had overwhelmed her, and the more frequent Braxton-Hicks had her further on edge. Being pregnant for the first time came with its own amount of subtle panic, and without Clara to reassure her, the fear for her baby was mounting. If she went into labor before her life settled, she wouldn’t even know how to handle it. Obviously her painstakingly prepared birth plan wasn’t going to happen the way she’d hoped. And she hadn’t even had her Lamaze classes yet. With a killer stalking her until the trial, she wasn’t sure when she’d ever have the chance to do anything normal again before her baby’s birth.

She waited impatiently for the sun to rise and trace a path across the windowsill, then she climbed out of bed. She took her time getting ready for the day, unsure if Blaze was awake and not wanting to disturb him if he wasn’t. He’d probably stayed up well into the night, keeping watch and waiting for updates from his sergeant.

When she opened the bathroom door, the scent of brewing coffee and something rich and buttery wafted in to greet her on the air. She followed the sounds and scents of breakfast through Blaze’s home, trying not to drool. “You made pancakes,” she accused a moment before entering the kitchen.

He peeked over one broad shoulder as she approached, then whistled. “You wake up looking like that?”

“In full makeup and wearing the only outfit I don’t completely hate?” she asked. “Absolutely. My hair blew itself out.”

He grinned. “The curls are back. I approve.”

And Maisy approved of his nicely fitting jeans and simple white T-shirt. His hair was rumpled, and his cheeks were stubble-covered. He looked like the definition of sexy and casual.

“Are you getting used to it?” he asked, reminding her they were still talking about her awful hair.

“No. As usual, I jumped the gun and caused myself trouble.” Quick reactions were her specialty. They’d saved her life once or twice lately, but for the previous twenty-six years, her act-now, think-later personality had gotten her into more than one bind. Overpaying for things. Overcommitting to social engagements. And that belly button piercing on her twenty-first birthday. “I could probably get on board with the length, but I don’t like the color.” She rolled her eyes, then moved to his side, pouring a mug of coffee while he flipped another pancake. “It’s a little dumb, but I don’t look like Natalie anymore.” She inhaled the warm, bitter steam. “I kind of liked that I could still see her in the mirror.”

He adjusted the flame under his skillet, then offered a warm smile. “I don’t think it’s dumb. I don’t think she would, either.” His gaze slid to the cup in her hand. “Is that okay for you?” he asked, a small crease forming between his brows. “For the baby?”

She narrowed her eyes as she blew across the hot surface of her drink. “Yes.” She’d stuck to decaf and herbal tea for months, but she hoped a little caffeine would help clear the fog of fatigue from her brain.

He moved the final pancake to a plate piled ten high. “Right,” he said sheepishly. “How about I let you take care of Bun while I take care of you?”

“Excuse me?” she asked. “Did you just call my child Bun?”

“Our child,” he said, a flash of intense pleasure in his soft blue eyes. “And yeah, like a bun in the oven.”

Maisy squinted, lips pursed.

“Not that I’m calling you an oven,” he backpedaled. “Hey, look, I made pancakes.”

She took a seat at the table, warmed by his insistence at calling the baby theirs. “This all looks and smells amazing,” she said. “Sorry if I’m being cranky. None of the bad stuff is your fault, and I’m really glad I’m here. And that you’re here. It didn’t occur to me until I’d walked all the way to your doorstep that you could have moved. Or acquired a live-in girlfriend while I was gone. I was stuck in the safe house, but your life was marching on.”

Blaze watched her cautiously as he ferried the platter of hotcakes to the table, along with butter, syrup and silverware. Plates were already waiting. “I love this place. I can’t imagine leaving it. And my life didn’t move on the way you’re implying.”

“No girlfriend?” she asked, knowing it was unlikely he was seeing anyone and the woman hadn’t called or stopped by in two days. Though, she could be traveling, or maybe they’d spoken privately while Maisy was showering or in bed. Anything was possible, and it was better to assume he was taken than assume he was single and learn she was wrong. Her traitorous heart had already imagined them raising their child together, watching the baby age as they grew old in one another’s lives.

Blaze settled on the seat across from hers and selected a pancake. “I haven’t dated.” He shifted uncomfortably, casting a quick gaze in her direction. “I’m guessing you didn’t sleep well.” He pointed his fork at her coffee when she stared blankly back.

He hadn’t dated? In all these months? She took a bigger drink of coffee, busying her mouth against the urge to ask why and if, maybe, it was because of her. “Not really,” she said instead, answering his question about her sleep. “It’s hard to get comfortable these days. Add everything that has been going on to that, and it’s practically impossible. I was lucky the night I got here. I slept like a baby. Did you get any rest?”

“Some. I did a little research after you went to bed. I was curious about the contractions you were having.”

She paused, watching him more closely as she helped herself to a pancake. “Yeah?”

He inclined his head. “From what I understand, Braxton-Hicks are par for the course, but I also learned that the amount of physical and emotional stress you’re under can cause preterm labor. Which is scary, so we should keep a close eye on the contractions in case one of these days they become more than just little practice runs. And definitely ask your doctor about what you’re going through when we see her.”

Maisy smiled. “I appreciate that you’re a problem solver, civil servant and all-around hero, but I think you’re overreacting a little.”

He smirked. “You think I’m an all-around hero?”

She laughed. “We’ll ask Dr. Nazir about the contractions and see what she thinks.”

He released a long sigh, as if he might’ve been holding his breath before. “How do you stay so calm all the time? Do you know how many things can go wrong in a pregnancy?”

“I’m aware.” She forked a bite of pancake and dragged it through a puddle of syrup. Between fears for her baby’s health and the possibility of a lurking assassin, she’d rather think about the assassin. Avoiding him was at least something she could control. Or try to. “Any word on the runaway shooter? I don’t suppose someone saw him pumping gas and called the police? Maybe he’s behind bars right now?”

“Afraid not,” Blaze said. “But everyone in the state is probably looking for him. Maxwell texted earlier to say the FBI put a bounty on his head. One hundred grand to anyone with information leading to his arrest,” Blaze said. “So, the public is looking for him just as diligently as law enforcement now. He will turn up.”

Maisy breathed easier. “Let’s hope someone finds him before he finds us.”

A sudden thump on the porch sent a bolt of panic through the air, and Maisy’s fork clattered to her plate.

Blaze was on his feet before she took her next breath, gun drawn.

Her gaze darted across the front windows, searching for shadows, for signs the killer had found her.

“Stay here,” Blaze instructed, and he moved carefully toward the door.


BLAZE BRACED HIMSELF to defend Maisy and their child. The urge to fight tightened his muscles as he moved. The desire to rain a world of hurt down on whoever dared to come for her fueled his steps. He leaned a shoulder against the wall and peered around the edge of his curtains, scanning the empty gravel drive out front. A puff of dust drew his attention to the bicycle making its way back to the road. “Newspaper,” he said, chuckling lightly before opening the door.

Maisy heaved a sigh behind him.

He carried the paper to the table and returned his gun to his holster.

“I don’t need any more coffee,” she said pressing both palms to her chest. “I think I just had three consecutive heart attacks.”

Blaze went back to his pancakes, smiling, but on edge. If he’d somehow missed the paper boy driving up to the porch, how could he keep a trained killer off his property?

“What do you know about the other witness who died?” Maisy asked. “We never talked about that. One was killed the day my safe house was attacked, then another was lost yesterday. Was he in witness protection, too?”

“No.” Blaze set his fork aside. “This guy was a middle-aged banker who’d laundered money for Luciano a bunch of times over the years. He also witnessed him murder two businessmen who owed him money. One of them was your friend Aaron.”

Maisy’s jaw sank open. “He wasn’t alone that day?” The day she’d lost her sister.

“Seems not, though it’s the first I’m hearing about it. Turns out the marshals have been working on a need-to-know basis with information on this case. And they haven’t felt the West Liberty PD needed to know much.”

Maisy rubbed her forehead. “I will never understand the weird tension between law enforcement entities. Or why criminals like Luciano kill people who owe them money. He can’t get money from a dead person. Why not keep him alive? Murder seems counterintuitive to his cause.”

Blaze had no real answer to her first question, but he could take a stab at the second. “Once someone like Luciano decides the guy can’t or won’t ever pay up, killing him sets a precedent for others in his debt.”

“Pay or die,” she mused. “I suppose that would be a powerful motivational tool for anyone on the fence about running off with his money.”

Blaze nodded. “Pretty much.”

“So, the man who died yesterday was one of Luciano’s own? How do you think he found out the guy was going to testify?”

“That’s the question of the day,” Blaze said. “No one was supposed to know. Everyone hates the thought of a dirty lawman, but there’s a hole in our fence somewhere. We’ve got too many infiltrations happening right now for anyone to keep claiming coincidence.”

Maisy’s shoulders slumped. “So we have to hope the shooter is captured, then agrees to turn on Luciano.”

“His testimony would really help.” Blaze tried to imagine a scenario where the shooter could be located, captured, then turned before the trial began next week.

Maisy unrolled the morning paper, then shook it open and blanched. “Well, new plan needed.” She pushed her plate aside and smoothed the paper onto the table between them. An article with Sarah’s sketch and a photo of the same man centered the page. Underscored by a headline announcing he’d been found. Dead inside his car.

Blaze swore, then hunted down his cell phone. He’d left it on his couch when he went to make breakfast. He’d silenced the device before falling asleep, to avoid waking Maisy. Until he’d walked away and left it on the sofa cushions, he’d still heard it vibrate with every incoming message.

He scrolled the missed notifications. The notification of the shooter’s death had come from Maxwell an hour ago.

He dialed his sergeant, and the call went to voice mail.

“This isn’t good, right?” Maisy asked.

Blaze lifted troubled eyes to her and shook his head. “No.” He dialed Lucas next.

“Because, if this guy is dead, it’s because some bigger, badder guy is taking over his work?” Maisy asked, attention back on the paper before her.

Lucas’s phone rang through to voice mail.

Blaze redialed. Fairly certain as usual that Maisy’s theory was correct. And that wasn’t good news. “Pick up,” he whispered, willing his brother to answer the damn phone.

“How is Luciano doing this?” Maisy asked, her pale skin going a little green. “He’s pulling all these strings from jail? He got a second shooter to shoot his original shooter? Who does that? How big is his network?”

“Winchester,” Lucas finally answered on a yawn.

“Have you seen the paper?” Blaze asked rhetorically, skipping over the small talk. He had no doubt that Lucas would’ve called him if he’d seen the headline.

“I just got home three hours ago. I was called back in after dinner last night. Why?” His voice cleared on the final word, as if his brain was finally waking up. “What happened? Are Maisy and the baby okay?”

“Yeah, but the man who attacked her yesterday is dead. Shot inside his car.”

Lucas swore, a little more colorfully than Blaze had.

“I’m putting you on speaker,” Blaze said, pressing the option on his phone screen, then setting the device on the table. “Lucas. Maisy.”

The pair exchanged tense pleasantries.

Blaze pulled the newspaper across the table and skimmed the rest of the small article. Maisy’s questions were valid. How powerful was Luciano? And was Blaze being naive to believe he could protect her at his home? “It might be time to take Maisy off the grid somewhere.”

“What?” she asked, eyes wide, as his brother wondered, “Where?”

“I don’t know yet, but if her attacker’s dead this morning, I’ve got to consider whoever shot him is looking for her now. Someone has surely shared the fact she was with me at the station yesterday. If not, I’m sure they’ll be looking at me anyway. Maisy was in my care while we searched for Luciano last year, until she went into protective custody.”

Lucas grunted.

Maisy pressed her lips together, brows furrowed. “I’ll do whatever you think is necessary, but I have to see Dr. Nazir for my appointment this week. I can’t miss that.”

“All right,” Lucas said. “Let me get dressed and make some coffee. I’ll think of some ideas for relocation and call you back.”

Blaze disconnected the call, then reached for Maisy’s hand. “We won’t miss the appointment,” he vowed. “And I don’t want you to worry. The move is strictly precautionary. We’ll find a nice place with everything you need to be comfortable. Check in under fake names, then relax until the trial. It’ll be an adventure. No one will know where we are, and all we’ll have to do is pass another week or so playing cards and watching television.”

The tension in her jaw and across her forehead lightened. “When you said off grid, I pictured myself eating cold corn out of a can and peeing in the woods.”

Blaze barked a laugh. “I swear I will not let things get that bad. We’ll spend the rest of today making plans then slip away after dark. How about that?”

She squeezed his hand. “Okay.”

“Until then,” he said, working up a brighter voice and smile, “I found something I want to show you.” He stood and pulled her up with him, then led her into the living room, where his laptop sat open on the coffee table. “When I was reading up on your contractions last night, I found these videos on YouTube that I think you’re going to like.”

“What videos?” she asked, caution creeping into her voice. “I don’t want to watch another woman deliver a baby. I’ve seen it, and it’s terrifying.”

Blaze moved the laptop to the end of the table, then sat on the floor in front of it. “Sit with me?” he asked, patting the floor in front of him, then opening his legs in a V.

She frowned.

“Trust me.” He reached for her, and she sighed before following him onto the floor.

“Will you start the video?”

She dragged a fingertip over his laptop’s touch pad, then clicked once before settling between his open legs, folding hers before her. “Lamaze,” she said softly. “You found me an online Lamaze class?”

“There were a few with good reviews,” he said, “but this one had the most views. That has to count for something, right? If you don’t like it, we can watch a different one.”

Maisy was still as the woman onscreen introduced herself, listing her experience and qualifications, then gushing over the miracle of motherhood, pregnancy and birth.

“Now you won’t have to risk going anywhere to take the class,” Blaze said softly, trying not to talk over the class leader. “I can be with you. You’ll be prepared, and from what I’ve read, you can use the breathing techniques to help with pain from your Braxton-Hicks.”

He pulled her hair over one shoulder, peeking around for a look at her face.

Maisy leaned against him, tilting her head to reveal a teary-eyed gaze. She pulled his arms around her and smoothed his palms over her bump. “Thank you,” she whispered.

And Blaze knew whatever happened between them now, there would never be another woman in his life, because his heart forever belonged to her.