Maisy completed her first Lamaze class with Blaze as her partner. The moment was satisfying beyond her wildest dreams. Despite all the bad things that had happened, she could never have imagined seventy-two hours ago that she’d be in Blaze’s home again, in his arms and completing a Lamaze class that he’d found online for her.
The smile on her face could possibly be permanent.
“That was good,” he said. “What did you think?”
Maisy turned to face him where they sat, then rose onto her knees and framed his face in her hands. “This was the most perfect thing you could have done. It was exactly what I needed. And having you by my side was icing on the cake.”
His eyes widened briefly before dropping their focus to her lips and going dark with something that looked a lot like hunger. “You’re welcome.”
She leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his and basking in the perfect moment. For the first time in what felt like forever, she was relaxed, grounded and at peace.
His hands rose to her waist, tugging her down to him, before slipping his fingers into her hair.
She started at the jolt of electricity that pulsed through her. Blaze’s nearness had always affected her that way.
He cupped the back of her head, cradling her, and Maisy’s inhibitions fell away.
Lost in the spell he’d always had on her, she pressed her lips to his and let everything else go. Warmth spread through her at the scents of his shampoo and cologne. The gentle scrape of his unshaven cheeks against her palms. The strength of his arms. Breadth of his chest.
His lips parted beneath hers, and she easily opened to receive him. Her heart pounded enthusiastically as he deepened the kiss.
When he moaned into her mouth, lavishing her generously with bone-melting caresses of his tongue, she worried there’d soon be little more than a puddle left of her.
Until then, she embraced it. Allowing joy to ping-pong inside her, erasing all the bad memories and replacing them with red-hot need and want and hope. Her head fell back as Blaze moved his mouth over her chin and down her neck, suckling and nipping in sweet, erotic bites.
She smiled at the ceiling, truly happy and completely relaxed for the first time in months. She soaked up the heat of his lips on her throat and his hands on her breasts until a rush of unbidden and unwanted worries returned. Ruining everything.
Her heart sank, then broke with memories of what had brought her back to him. And reminders that they would soon be on the run from her would-be killer. The icy blast cooled her heated core.
“What’s wrong?” Blaze panted, sliding his hands over the curves of her hips. Concern and tenderness warred with want in his eyes. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, biting her lip and hating herself for inciting the kiss, only to pull away. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”
“Can’t kiss me?” he asked. “Or something else?” He released her when she pulled back, stroking her arm and reaching for her hand instead. “You were doing one hell of a job.” He grinned, attempting to let her off the hook. “But it’s okay if you don’t want to anymore.”
She nodded, unable to form the right words, if there were any, to explain herself. She just couldn’t afford to get lost in another whirlwind relationship with Blaze, easy as that would be. She had more than herself to think about this time. There was a baby on the way who would need 100 percent of her. Whatever she and Blaze were doing, it couldn’t continue, and losing him had nearly torn her apart the last time.
A peppy rap on Blaze’s front door broke the tension, turning them both toward the sound. The shadow poised beyond the front window leaned forward and pressed cupped hands to the glass.
Blaze groaned. “Derek,” he muttered, relaxing his posture as he turned back to Maisy, gentle eyes fixed on hers.
She held her breath in anticipation of whatever he might say.
Instead, he pressed a kiss against her forehead, then rose gracefully and offered her his hand, bringing her up with him.
She went to the kitchen table, thankful for the interruption, while Blaze answered the door. Her hands moved instinctively to her neck and collarbone, tracing the paths of his touch. Her fingertips glided over trembling lips, still sensitive from his kiss. She’d blame her hormones for turning a Lamaze class into a reason to make out on the living room floor, but she was certain her heart had as much to do with that as anything. Why did her life and love have to be so complicated?
A sharp wolf whistle drew her eyes to Derek, the oldest of the Winchester brothers, striding confidently in her direction. His arms were already open to embrace her. “Well, look at you.”
Derek, Blaze and Lucas were what Maisy’s grandmother called Irish triplets. The younger two were conceived within weeks of the previous boy’s birth, keeping their poor mother pregnant for nearly three years straight. A predicament Maisy couldn’t imagine. And didn’t want to. But she could surely sympathize with any woman married to a Winchester. How could she possible keep her hands to herself?
Despite their close ages, Lucas, the youngest, was distinctly more easygoing than the others. Blaze tended to brood. And Derek had never met a woman he couldn’t immediately relieve of her clothing.
“Hi, Derek,” she said, tugging nervously on her shorter, now brown hair.
“Miss me?” he asked, wrapping her into a careful hug, as if he might somehow hurt her, or catch her pregnancy.
“Every minute,” she said. “How’d you know I was here?” She looked around him as he released her, seeking Blaze’s face.
“Blaze called everyone the minute he heard the good news.” He grinned, gaze dropping to her middle.
“Everyone?” she asked, fighting a proud smile.
“Everyone listed under W for Winchester in his contacts list, I suspect,” Derek said with a wink. “Our mama’s fit to die if she doesn’t get a look at you soon. She’s planning a baby shower for immediately outside the courtroom following your testimony, I believe. I’m bringing potato salad.”
Blaze laughed, arriving in the kitchen a moment later, arms loaded with what looked like groceries and a box of doughnuts. “I only called my brothers and parents. Mama did the rest. And Derek brought you food because apparently he didn’t think I was feeding you.”
“Pregnant women have cravings,” Derek said.
“You came over to bring me doughnuts?” Maisy asked, enjoying the simple moment of normalcy. She couldn’t wait to see Mr. and Mrs. Winchester again. They’d been so kind to her when they’d first met. They hadn’t treated her as if she might break, despite the fact she was mired in guilt and grief. They’d called her strong and courageous.
“While I’m here, I thought we could work up a plan to hide you both for another week or so until the trial,” Derek said. “I have strong connections to local law enforcement that keep me informed without obligating me to do anything I don’t want to.”
“They can order you to butt out,” Maisy said, grinning.
“They can try.”
“Sounds good,” Blaze agreed, setting the doughnut box on his table and the sack of groceries beside it.
“Have you thought about reaching out to the judge or prosecuting attorneys?” Derek asked. “Maybe you can get the trial moved up or find a way for Maisy to give her testimony from a secondary location. Livestream it for the jury.”
Blaze reached into the grocery bag, brows furrowed. “The trial’s been pushed back three times already. There’s no way they’ll move it up, but we can ask about a live feed testimony.”
“Be prepared for some pushback from the lawyers,” Derek said. “They’ll claim the jury needs her to be physically present, but the judge knows the situation. He’ll have to consider her safety in all this and remember she’s one of only two witnesses left.”
“You’re both assuming the judge isn’t dirty,” Maisy said, a knot of fear growing in her gut. “Someone definitely is.”
The brothers traded pointed looks, then Blaze turned back to the groceries.
She watched in unexpected amusement as he lined up Derek’s offerings on the table next to the doughnuts. Licorice and lemon candies. Crackers and ginger ale. A tub of rocky road ice cream. “Two jars of pickles?”
Derek shrugged. “One’s dill. One’s bread and butter.”
“Very thoughtful.”
“Thanks. So, when are you due?” he asked, apparently unable to stop staring at her middle. “Blaze was quick to deliver the news. Not so much with the details.”
“About six weeks,” she said. Luck willing.
“Boy or girl?”
“I don’t know yet.”
He scrunched his smug, handsome face. “Why not?” He hiked his brows when she only shrugged in response, then crossed his arms and leaned against the counter to stare at her.
She laughed. “I’d nearly forgotten how shy and unintrusive you are.”
Blaze hauled the pickles to the refrigerator. “We’ll know when we know, brother. For now, let’s work on that plan for anonymous lodging, then set up arrangements for check-in, wherever we’re headed.”
Derek grinned wickedly. “All right. One more question.”
Maisy crossed her arms and glared back. “If you ask me what I weigh, I will force-feed you all those dills.”
“Have you thought of Derek for a boy name?” he asked, a hint of sincerity in his normally cocky tone.
“Hey,” Blaze answered, smiling broadly as he slipped into the space at Maisy’s side. “Get your own baby. This one is mine.”
Maisy laughed. “How about we buy you a World’s Best Uncle mug?” she suggested. “We can have Derek put on that.”
Derek considered the offer briefly. “Make it a shot glass, and I’m in.”
“Done.” Blaze poured his brother a cup of coffee and ferried it to the table. “I’m open to suggestions on locations. We can stay under an alias without trouble and pay in cash,” he said. “Not too far outside the city limits. She needs to be within fifteen minutes of a hospital. I don’t want to take any chances if she gets hurt or sick.”
Derek accepted, then sipped the coffee. “You also don’t want to be too close to town, or anywhere a series of traffic cams or storefront surveillance videos could give you away.”
Maisy listened as the brothers volleyed ideas. They were so much alike, yet so different. It reminded her of her relationship with Natalie. They’d been identical in appearance, but cut from two completely different cloths. Natalie had always been brave and bright, a wild little flame, ready to catch the world on fire. Maisy had been content to observe, never interested in sharing the spotlight. Too afraid of getting burned.
“There are some older motels on the edge of town,” Blaze continued. “What do you know about those?”
“Nothing good,” Derek admitted. “Prostitutes. Petty crime. Terrible dining options. What about that ritzy spa in the mountains? It’s a little farther away, but they’ve got a doctor on staff.”
Maisy’s toes curled in hope. She’d never been to an actual overnight spa, but she could get behind spending a week at one.
Blaze lifted his brows, not seeming to hate the idea, either.
The sudden explosion of his front window elicited a scream from Maisy’s core. Confusion overtook her as shards of glass cascaded across the wooden floor, skittering in jagged luminescent splinters. Something hard landed in the entryway and rolled in their direction, emitting a thick, acrid smoke.
Both brothers drew their weapons as Maisy fought to make sense of what was happening.
“Get down,” Derek called, marching stealthily forward, gun drawn.
Maisy crouched, hands over her head and eyes tearing as the smoke began to fill Blaze’s cabin. Nothing made any sense, yet it was all incredibly clear.
Blaze’s home was under attack.
“SMOKE BOMB,” BLAZE GROWLED, opening one arm wide as he positioned himself in front of Maisy, eyes trained through the growing cloud.
“He’s coming in,” Derek said, crouched low and gun raised. Acknowledging the obvious.
The only reason to use a device like this was to gain easy access. Soon he, Maisy and his brother would be blind, disoriented and gasping for air. Easy pickings for whoever had thrown the bomb. That person surely had a gas mask and planned to simply walk inside and kill them all.
But this guy had picked the wrong cabin.
The front door burst open a moment later, barely visible now. The sound of splintering wood assured him the barrier had been kicked in.
Derek vanished in the thick gray smoke.
“Derek.” Maisy coughed the word.
“He’s got this,” Blaze said, unable to name a time anyone had gotten the drop on his big brother. “Stay with me. We’ll get out of here.”
Maisy’s small fingers curled into the fabric of Blaze’s T-shirt, and she coughed against his back.
“Cover your mouth,” he instructed, softly, gut clenching and fear gripping his throat. “Stay low. Back door.”
They moved together a few feet before Derek barreled into Blaze, arms pinwheeling, curses flying. Maisy screamed, and the sound ricocheted through Blaze’s heart.
Derek righted himself, wiping a sleeve across his face with a sneer before launching back into the fog.
Unseen things broke and shattered around them, stirring up the chaos and shooting terror through Blaze’s veins. There was more than one assailant, he realized with a start. The shooter had worked alone, but it took more than one criminal to storm a cabin.
A gunshot rang out, and ice washed through Blaze’s veins.
Maisy pressed her face into his back, no doubt recalling the last time she’d been under siege like this and lost a friend.
He reached for her arms, pulling her to his side, then rushing her toward the back door. They needed fresh air and the space to dial 911. If they could circle back to the driveway and get Maisy behind the wheel of his truck, Blaze might even be able to come back and help his brother.
The plan was forming in his head when a second explosion stopped him short. Light flowed through the hazy space where the rear door had once been.
And a form appeared in the haze. A fist connected with Blaze’s head before he could turn back. He fell against Maisy, pinning her against the wall.
She screamed, then ducked free, coughing as she vanished into the smoke.
Blaze blinked burning, watering eyes, unsure which direction was up when the second hit arrived, knocking him onto the floor. His training kicked in a heartbeat later, spurred by fear of Maisy’s absence, and realization of what that absence could mean. His leg shot out on autopilot as years of hand-to-hand combat training jerked into motion. His foot connected hard with his intruder’s torso, eliciting a low, guttural response. Blaze jerked upright on the next breath, fueled by rage and resolve. He landed two sharp punches against his assailant before dropping the man like a sack of potatoes. He didn’t get back up.
“Maisy!” Blaze turned in the smoke, eyes stinging and blurred. His throat burned with every breath. His lungs screamed in protest of the polluted air.
Something looped around his throat and tightened, cutting off his limited oxygen. And his world began to shimmer.
Blaze clawed at the rope, cutting into his skin, twisting his body in an attempt to break free.
And a hail of gunshots erupted, illuminating the hazy cabin in muzzle flashes. He threw both elbows backward, aiming and missing his attacker, then the rope tightened again. His knees went weak, and his vision tunneled to a pinhole.
Then Blaze’s attacker collapsed behind him, releasing the rope as he fell.
Blaze crumpled forward, gulping poisoned air and coughing against the intake.
Maisy dropped an iron skillet before him, then latched onto Blaze’s arms and dragged him toward the broken-in door.