“I understand what you want, Dad. But this is my job.”

  He turned to Maisy and said, “Thank you so much for staying with my father. That was very brave.”

  “I had to do it,” she said and smiled at his father.

  He nodded and pressed on. “You’re a witness, Dad. I’m going to have to get you settled in a safe house until we catch the bomber. Same with you, Maisy, especially since he’s fixated on you for some reason,” he said.

  Maybe because she’s gorgeous, he thought. With the danger over he could fully appreciate the woman standing before him. A beautiful woman with a spine of steel, tons of courage and a truly caring heart based on what he’d seen of her so far.

  * * *

  MAISY KNEW WHAT it was like to be the object of an unhinged person’s obsession.

  Her father had terrorized Washington State with a series of explosions at various logging and construction sites. During her father’s reign of terror, he’d maimed and injured many people and killed one at the site of his last bombing.

  He’d been in prison for the last fifteen years and she’d been free of him for most of that time, but then a year ago he’d found her and started a second reign of terror with weekly letters and collect phone calls from the prison. She’d sent the letters back unopened and refused the calls, but that hadn’t stopped him.

  Much like she worried that the FBI agent was right that the bomber wouldn’t stop with her either.

  But she refused to let her life be controlled by another terrorist the way her father had dominated her.

  “I had to stay with your father, but I’m not going to a safe house,” she said and tilted her chin up at a determined angle.

  “My dear, it’s what makes sense,” Robert said and laid a gentle hand on her arm.

  “I’m not going, Robert,” she reiterated, but his son was having none of it.

  “You are going. If not into a safe house, we’ll provide you with a protective detail,” Miguel said.

  “And who’s going to make me do it? You? Will you protect me?” she challenged, hating how childish it sounded, but determined to be the master of her own fate. It had been her primary goal since her mother’s death to finally follow her dreams.

  Miguel tapped his chest. “Yes, me, if I have to. You’re a material witness and I need to keep you safe,” he said, his brown eyes almost black with worry. Bits of dust clung to the thick waves of his dark hair and she unconsciously reached up to brush them away, but then jerked her hand back. The gesture would have been too intimate. One of lovers and not the strangers they were.

  “You?” she repeated and blew out a harsh breath. “You’d really agree to be my protective detail?”

  With a huff, he jammed his hands on his hips and firmed his jaw. “You got a problem with that?”

  She had lots of problems with it, especially now that she had the time to realize what a devastatingly handsome man he was and how hard it would be to ignore that and the gentle and caring way he’d dealt with his father. But a bomber was on the loose and fixated on her, and they were lucky that no one had been hurt today.

  They might not be so lucky again if Miguel didn’t do his job. And because she knew that they didn’t have time to waste, she nodded and said, “I’ll go. But only with you. And I have to call my boss and let him know what’s happening.”

  Miguel seemed taken aback by her acquiescence but clearly wasn’t going to argue. He held a finger up and said, “I need to make a call to get the safe house ready for my dad.”

  He limped away for a moment to phone and as he did so, Robert laid a hand on her arm. His touch was soothing, and for a too brief moment, it reminded her of her father’s gentle touch before she’d discovered he was a monster. “He means well, Maisy. Don’t judge him too harshly. He’s just been...determined since his mother was killed.”

  “And you’ve been worried for him,” she said and covered Robert’s hand with her own, once again sensing the earlier tension between the two men.

  Robert nodded and his silver-rimmed glasses slipped on his nose before he pushed them up with his index finger. “I have. It was so hard to lose my wife. I don’t want to lose him as well. He’s all I have left.”

  She didn’t have time to respond since at that moment Miguel returned to their side. “The safe house will be ready shortly. We should go get your things from the hotel, Dad. Same for you, Maisy. We can run by your place so you can pack a bag.”

  She tipped her chin up, trying to stay strong even though fear was starting to blossom through her now that the adrenaline was wearing off. But she couldn’t let the fear take over. After all, that was the purpose of terrorism, wasn’t it? To create fear.

  “I’m ready,” she said, but for what, she didn’t rightly know.

  Chapter Four

  Dashiell West watched over Liam as the man worked on cleaning up the images they had been able to get from the CCTV cameras in King Street Station. In addition to sharpening the images, which were not the best quality, Liam had to address the position of the bomber’s body. Once Liam had done that, adjusting the lean, tilt and orientation of the photo, he’d use another program to adjust those variables in order to create an image which could be run against their various databases.

  Dashiell walked over to another desk, where David Dyson, their twenty-something intern, was combing through various video feeds and surveillance cameras in the area, trying to locate other images of the bomber which would not only help identify him, but maybe also pinpoint the direction he might have gone after the explosion. “How’s it going?” Dash asked.

  David looked up at him and smiled, his brown eyes gleaming with intelligence and determination. David had lost a beloved uncle during a convenience store robbery and that had prompted the young man to begin a career in law enforcement instead of going into the private sector with his skills.

  “Doing great. I’ve got one video so far and am using the location of that camera to look for others in the area,” David said.

  Dash clapped the young man on the shoulder. “Good job. Keep it up.”

  “You know I will,” David said, his grin broadening with Dash’s praise.

  Dashiell walked away to his own desk, but as he did so, he noticed Lorelai Parker walk in. Liam’s head immediately turned in the direction of his ex-fiancée. When Lorelai had called earlier to advise about the situation, Liam had almost been beside himself with worry that she was in danger. It only confirmed to Dashiell that there were still strong feelings there on both sides despite their canceled nuptials. He also suspected that Lorelai wouldn’t still be so angry if she didn’t care for Liam.

  But their little wedding drama had to take a back seat to finding the bomber, he thought as he walked over to where Lorelai was handing an envelope to Madeline and Nicholas.

  His fellow agents had been busy setting up their board at one end of the office space, placing a grainy photo of the bomber at the top of the board along with some preliminary information.

  Like the fact that there had been no real demands at King Street Station and nothing else so far, including a claim of responsibility for the bombing.

  He didn’t need to be a profiling expert like Madeline or Nicholas to know that made no sense.

  He approached them, wondering what was in the envelope.

  “Seattle ABS sent it over. Agent Gonzalez asked that you give him a call,” Lorelai explained and then quickly left the room, but not before shooting a quick glance to where Liam was working.

  “What have we got?” Dashiell asked and peered at the photos that Nicholas removed from the envelope and spread out on the surface of the worktable.

  “Whoa, bomb collar. Looks like the one from the Pizza Bomber case,” Dash said, recalling the incident where a pizza delivery man had been murdered during a bizarre bank robbery several years earlier.

  “It does. The second bomb appears to have been concealed in a briefcase,” Madeline said and gestured to the photos of the bits and pieces that the local police had gathered at the scene, including a fairly large piece of a briefcase handle.

  “Let’s get Mack on the line and see what else he’s got to say.” Dash dialed the ABS officer using the speakerphone and the man answered on the first ring.

  “ABS Officer Gonzalez,” he said.

  Madeline, being the most senior agent between them, took charge. “Special Agent Striker here, Mack. We got your package. What can you tell us?”

  “Madeline. Thanks for any assist BAU can give us on this. The bomb around Miguel’s dad’s neck looks like a copycat of the Pizza Bomber, but it’s different in several key elements. For starters there was no timer or secondary way to detonate the device. Also, no dead switch. Plus, the detonator wasn’t actually connected to the pipe bombs inside the metal box holding them.”

  Dashiell, Madeline and Nicholas all shared a look.

  “Is it possible that the connection came loose while the bomber was transporting it?” Madeline asked.

  “Possible, but unlikely. There were fuses in the bombs, but the detonator wire was too short to reach the battery that would send the charge to the fuses. Either we were lucky he wasn’t a good bomb maker or he didn’t intend to blow the device.”

  “But they were real pipe bombs?” Nicholas pressed.

  “Definitely. Filled with gunpowder, BBs and nails. If they had gone off, they would have likely killed whoever was wearing it and the shrapnel would have injured anyone within yards of the bomb,” Mack noted and plowed on. “We were able to get partial prints off the pipes, detonator and a handle. Also, some DNA that we’re already processing.”

  Madeline pursed her lips and nodded. “What can you tell us about the second device? It looks like a briefcase bomb.”

  “Confirmed. We have a big piece of the handle as well as bits and pieces of the briefcase and the wire. Initial testing and other evidence indicate he used dynamite in the second bomb. Detonated it with a cell phone.”

  Nicholas shook his head. “Two different MOs in one bombing. Atypical, isn’t it?”

  A long sigh came across the line from the ABS officer. “It is atypical. Not to mention that dynamite is highly regulated. Luckily, it was a small blast, and the briefcase was placed in a little-used location. Only superficial damage to the structure and even better, we had only minor injuries and no fatalities.”

  “Almost as if he didn’t want to hurt anyone,” Madeline suggested.

  “It seems that way. We’re sending both devices to the Terrorist Explosive Device Analytical Center at Quantico so they can confirm what was used and provide more information on the devices. ATF is also working on it.”

  “If TEDAC agrees, we’ll have to track down who can supply dynamite in the area and who has access to it,” Dashiell said.

  “Bingo. In the meantime, we’re waiting on BAU to give us a profile or anything else you can dig up to help. We’ll keep you posted, as well,” Mack said.

  “Can you send us the info on the fingerprints and DNA samples? Pictures of the bomb pieces?” Madeline asked.

  “Will do, Madeline,” Mack confirmed and signed off.

  Dash waited as Madeline crossed her arms and glanced at the team, her tall, athletic body in its dark blue suit canted at an angle. She was clearly assessing the information they’d just received, a deep furrow of worry across the brown skin of her forehead. “The object of terrorism is to create terror, so why do we have a bomber who makes no real demands, besides a ham sandwich?” she said with a chuckle and shake of her head. “And who doesn’t seem to want to hurt anyone.”

  “Or is it an amateur?” Miguel Peters said as he walked in, his gait measured, the cane gone, almost as if Miguel thought using it was a sign of weakness. He’d changed into his standard white shirt, rep tie and dark suit. “What do we have here?” the SSA asked.

  Madeline filled him in on what the Seattle ABS and PD had so far.

  Miguel shook his head. “From the first I got the sense there was something off about the bomber. He didn’t make his demands right away and when he did, they were way out there. We haven’t received any kind of communication or manifesto, right?” His keen dark gaze skipped over all the members of the team.

  “Nothing so far,” Nicholas said and looked toward Madeline, who was the BAU expert on kidnappings.

  “Nothing, and that type of bomb is one that’s been used either in blackmail, kidnappings or bank robberies, all crimes that require precise and timely demands, usually for money,” Madeline clarified.

  “No real demands. No real detonator. No real injuries since the force of the bomb blast was minor despite the damage it did to the building,” Miguel said and began to pace, his gait slightly stilted, as he tossed out the facts they had so far.

  “Anything from the videos yet?” he asked Dashiell.

  “Liam has images from the station and is working on them so we can process them against various databases. David tracked down video that had views of the bomber from a nearby source. He’s searching for other videos in the area so we can possibly narrow where the bomber may have gone,” he said.

  Miguel nodded and jammed his fists on his hips. “My father and Maisy Oliver, the other key witness to the bombing, are both being safeguarded. I’ve got some preliminary testimony from them, but let’s work with what we’ve got right now.”

  Miguel glanced past them as Liam approached, an almost guilty look on his face. “Boss, I’ve got something weird here,” he said.

  Liam glanced at Dash, obviously unsure about what he was about to say. “What is it, Liam?” Dash pressed.

  Liam nodded and directed his attention to the SSA. “It’s about Maisy Oliver.”

  Miguel’s features hardened into stone, his lips in a grim line as he glared at their tech guru.

  “What do you have for us?” Miguel said, his voice calm despite his tense body posture.

  “I can’t find her in the system before age fourteen. Her mother’s missing history as well,” Liam advised nervously, his gaze darting around the faces of the team to see how they were receiving the information.

  Miguel peered at Dashiell. “Can you confirm this, Dash?”

  He raised his hands to slow things down. “I was working on a tweak to our facial recognition system because we’ve got poor images of the bomber, not to mention the ski mask he was wearing.”

  Miguel dipped his head in acknowledgment. The tension in his body eased, but only somewhat. “I appreciate that. But can you work to confirm what Liam has uncovered? Find out what you can about any possible gap and let me know.”

  “Will do, Miguel,” he said with a nod.

  Miguel drew in a breath, nostrils flaring, and released it in a rush. “We’ve got our work cut out for us. Please get back to it and in the meantime, I’m going to speak to Ms. Oliver and see what she has to say about the bomber and those missing years.”

  * * *

  MAISY HAD BEEN pacing back and forth in Miguel’s apartment, trying to do what he had asked: recollect any details about what had happened before, during and after the bombing.

  She walked to the windows of the skyscraper and looked toward the waters of Elliott Bay and beyond that, Puget Sound. Along the shoreline, assorted boats and ferries moved across the water to Bainbridge Island and other nearby locations while others pushed northward to Victoria in British Columbia.

  Even as she stared at the beauty below, her mind replayed all the ugliness of that day. How she’d been standing there, chatting with Miguel’s charming father, a retired professor of journalism. She’d been telling him about her new travel blog when the bomber had taken him hostage.

  Shutting her eyes, she tried to remember if she’d seen the bomber before that. She vaguely recollected someone moving from behind a column. Slipping something over their face while slinging a knapsack off their shoulders.

  The bomber, she realized, eyes snapping wide open.

  The snick of the door lock had her whirling around in fear until she remembered that an FBI Agent was stationed at her door for protection.

  A second later, Miguel entered and closed the door behind him. His entrance brought immediate peace, surprising her since they’d only known each other a few hours. But in that time, she’d come to know he was caring, honorable and courageous. Add in the fact that he was lethally handsome, and it was a potent, and possibly irresistible, combination.

  But as her gaze met his, her earlier fear about being in danger morphed into a different one: he knew she wasn’t what she seemed.

  He walked over, his dark gaze locked on hers, assessing. Raising his hand, he gestured in the direction of the sofa and said, “Please. We need to talk.”

  Her gut knotted tightly, dreading what would follow. Dreading the past that she and her mother had tried so hard to outrun but which had chased them for the past fifteen years. Hoping to divert the discussion, she said, “I remembered seeing the bomber before he grabbed your father. He raced around a column without his mask for a hot second.”

  Miguel nodded and took the seat kitty-corner to the sofa as she sat. “Do you think you could describe what you saw? The shape of his face? Other distinguishing features?”

  “Maybe,” she said, a little reluctantly. It had been only a fleeting glimpse.

  Miguel nodded and hesitated, almost as if searching for how to begin. Calmly, patiently, he briefly explained some of what his team was doing and finished with, “We’re running the images through facial recognition. We also ran your image and did a background check. We got back incomplete results. I’m hoping you can fill in some information for me.”