“Like?” she asked, well aware of where he was going and yet hoping to avoid it since it could only bring her pain as well as possibly his distrust.

  He quirked a brow, seeing through her ruse. Despite that, he was composed as he said, “You know what we found. Or should I say what we didn’t find. Care to explain?”

  * * *

  MIGUEL DIDN’T WANT to treat her like a suspect, especially considering how caring and concerned she’d been with his father. How strong to remain behind and calm him as Mack had worked to free his dad from the bomb. But until he heard from her about the gap in her history, she was now a suspect. That was the reason he’d kept out important details when he’d given her the rundown of what the BAU team had been working on.

  As her almost violet gaze sheened with tears, she looked away, a sure sign of unease. Her hands were in her lap and laced tightly together. The knuckles white from the pressure.

  “Maisy?” he urged, needing to hear the story from her lips. Kissable lips, he thought and forced away that realization. Beauty sometimes hid incredible malevolence. Not to mention that a relationship or where it would lead was not in his future.

  “My mother and I moved from Woodinville to Seattle about fifteen years ago. When we did so, we changed our names because we wanted to rebuild our lives.” A sniffle followed her words and she swiped away a tear.

  Miguel leaned closer and laid a hand on her knee, wanting to offer comfort, but also wanting to know more. “Why, Maisy? Why did you have to change your names?”

  Slowly, almost as if it pained her, she faced him with shattered eyes. “My name used to be Elizabeth Green. My father was Richard Green, the Forest Conservation Bomber.”

  Miguel widened his eyes, surprised by the revelation. “I’m well familiar with Green. Your father. My mother worked the case, and her profile was instrumental in helping to catch him.”

  “I’m glad she did before he could hurt anyone else. What he did...” She drew in a long breath and the words escaped her in a rush. “He was a monster, and we didn’t know it, even though people thought we should.”

  Miguel remembered all the publicity about the bombings and the capture. It had turned into a media circus, almost as much of a big deal as the capture of the Unabomber. The press had hounded Green’s family until they’d disappeared and now, he knew why.

  “It must have been very difficult for you, Maisy,” he said, trying to get her to relax and tell him more about the experience and the very odd coincidence. A bomber’s daughter being almost killed by a different bomber? Maybe too much coincidence, although his gut was saying she wasn’t involved in what had happened.

  Maisy nodded and gazed down at her hands. “It was. Neighbors shunned us and our friends... You find out just who your friends are. In our case there weren’t many. Almost everyone thought that my mother and I should have known what he was doing, especially my mom since she worked at the landscaping business.”

  Remembering the case, he said, “That’s where your father assembled his bombs.”

  Maisy did a quick bob of her head. “It was, but my mother was in the office or at the register tending to customers. It was a successful business. She wasn’t in the sheds where my father did his evil.”

  Miguel covered her hands with his and squeezed gently, touched by her pain. “I can’t imagine how difficult it must have been for you. You were victims as much as those injured by your father’s bombs. Was that when you decided to move from Woodinville?”

  * * *

  HIS HAND WAS warm on hers, the palm rough. He had long elegant fingers, almost those of an artist. His simple touch, one of caring, and his words of understanding, filled her with peace once more.

  “It is, and since we were starting over, it only seemed right to change our names. The court was understanding and did it without much trouble. We tried our best to stay out of the public eye, working odd jobs. Barely making it. I managed to finish high school and college,” she said, but his sharp investigator’s gaze saw past what she was saying.

  “But you’ve been in a prison as much as your father has, haven’t you?”

  She nodded and fought against the pinching of her throat to say, “He’s controlled my life even though he’s been behind bars for the past fifteen years. Especially in the last year since my mother passed from cancer. Somehow, he found out my new name and address. He’s been writing and calling me almost every week.”

  Miguel applied gentle pressure to her hand again and as his gaze settled on hers, his eyes were a cocoa brown and filled with compassion. “I’m so sorry about your mom.”

  “Thank you,” she barely eked out, the pain still too fresh.

  “Have you responded to your father?”

  She shook her head vehemently and the motion made her wince since she was a little sore from the impact of the bomb blast. “No. I want nothing to do with him. Nothing. I just want to get on with my life. With the dreams he stole from me.”

  Dreams of adventure and writing. The travel blog she had planned on starting with the photos from the bus tour. Which suddenly made her remember. “I was taking photos right before the bomber rushed out. I can send them to you if you’d like.”

  “I’d appreciate that,” he said and spelled out his email address for her.

  After she finished sending him the photos, he said, “It’s late. Almost dinner time. I’m not much of a cook as you can probably tell from my kitchen and fridge.”

  “Pretty empty,” she said, much like the apartment in general. It was minimalist with little personality. Totally unlike the man sitting beside her, who radiated power and confidence with his very presence and made her want to learn more about him.

  “I don’t spend much time here. I’m usually in the BAU office. It’s on the top floor of this building,” he said and pointed upward.

  It struck her as kind of sad. “You live where you work?”

  “It’s convenient,” he shot back quickly, almost defensively.

  She recognized the tone. She’d overheard it on the bus before his father had started talking to her and later, when the EMTs had been tending to Miguel’s leg. His father had said that he wished Miguel had a safer job and she suspected that his father also wished Miguel would one day have a family. Something that wasn’t going to happen to someone who lived to work.

  “I didn’t mean to be judgmental. You do something very important. You keep people safe,” she said, appreciating the sacrifices he made as an FBI agent.

  “And I promise to keep you safe and not just from this bomber. From your father as well. You can trust me on that,” he said and slowly rose from the chair, grimacing slightly as he did so.

  “How’s the leg? Were you hurt during a case?” she asked.

  “I was shot during a recent investigation and the leg’s still a little weak. It’s why I was using the cane for some extra support. Thanks to the explosion, the leg’s sore again along with other parts of my body. You?”

  “Sore,” she said and rubbed the shoulder that had hit the ground hard when she’d been knocked off her feet by the blast. She was sure she already had a bruise.

  “Then let’s get you dinner so you can get some rest. How do you feel about pizza?”

  “You can never go wrong with pizza,” she said. Her mother and she had eaten it often because they enjoyed it, it was inexpensive and it provided them with leftovers for other meals.

  “I’ll order and go pick it up. Would you mind setting some places at the breakfast bar?”

  “Not at all. I’ll be waiting for you.”

  Chapter Five

  Dinner with Maisy was turning out to be more than Miguel had expected.

  She was smart. Funny. Passionate. That was obvious from the way she told him about her dreams to travel and start a blog detailing those experiences.

  “Is that why you were on the bus tour?” he asked, interested in her and not just as a suspect, which worried him. He had no room in his life for entanglements.

  “It is. I’ve been setting aside money each paycheck in the hopes of visiting other places, but I thought, why not start with Seattle? There are lots of people who haven’t been here and it’s a beautiful city,” she said and finished her second slice of pizza.

  “It is a beautiful city. I love the water and mountains all around. It’s very different from where I grew up.”

  She smiled and tapped the tabletop, as if confirming something to herself. “I could hear a slight singsong in your accent and there’s your name. Are you Latino?”

  He nodded, took a bite of his slice and after he finished, he said, “I was born and raised in Miami. My mother was Cuban and taught me Spanish.”

  Maisy set down the third slice of pizza she had grabbed and laid her hand on his arm. “You miss her, don’t you?”

  Miguel nodded. “I do. She was an amazing FBI agent. Intelligent. Brave.”

  Maisy shook her head, making him quiet abruptly. “You miss your mom. The woman who held your hand when you were sick and made your favorite dish for your birthday.”

  His throat tightened with emotion and for a moment, he almost couldn’t breathe as the memories of his mother flooded back. The little things that mothers did, much as Maisy had so astutely pointed out. Things that his mother had done despite also being a top-notch FBI agent.

  Much like you could also do, the little voice in his head said.

  “She was an awesome mom,” he choked out and set aside his plate, his appetite gone.

  “I’m sorry,” Maisy said and laid down her slice. “I didn’t mean to bring back sad memories.”

  He shook his head. “Not sad ones at all. Good ones. Sometimes you forget the good because you’re all caught up with the bad.”

  * * *

  IF ANYONE UNDERSTOOD what it was to let the good memories get lost because of the bad, it was Maisy. “I get it, but sometimes the bad... It’s impossible to forget those. To forgive them.”

  Miguel nodded. “Your dad. Was he a good dad?”

  Maisy shrugged, trying to balance the way her dad had been when she was a child against what he’d become. “When I was little, he was always there. Caring. Loving. But as I got older, he became more and more distant. Harder. No matter what my mom tried he kept on pulling away and then we found out why.”

  “He’d become the Forest Conservation Bomber,” Miguel said, voice flat.

  His tone made her wonder if he also thought her mother and she should have known or at least suspected. “We didn’t know. Didn’t suspect. The landscaping business had been doing really well and we both just thought he was busy because there was so much to do.”

  Miguel hesitated, creating worry in her again, but instead he said, “Speaking of fathers. I should go see how my dad is doing. Would you like to go?”

  She nodded. “I’d like that. It would be nice to see that he’s okay. Plus, he had mentioned helping me with my blog, him being into journalism and all.”

  With that, they finished dinner, cleaned up and headed to the safe house, a room in a nearby hotel that was only a few blocks away. With Miguel’s apartment being only a studio, there hadn’t been room for both Robert and Maisy. Maisy couldn’t help but notice that unlike the smaller hotel where his dad had been earlier, this one was bigger and obviously more secure. There were doormen at the front entrance and a security guard patrolled the lobby. Discreet cameras were visible in the lobby, elevators and hallways. Upstairs in Robert’s room, they were greeted by another FBI agent, who stepped out to give them some privacy.

  Maisy hugged the older man as they entered, and he seemed pleased with their visit.

  “How are you, my dear?” he asked and slowly settled into a comfy chair in the suite’s living room.

  “Sore, as I imagine you are,” she said and sat across from him on the sofa.

  “A bit. I hope my son is treating you well,” Robert said and shot a look at Miguel, who stood off to one side, arms across his chest.

  “He is and hopefully this will be over quickly.” She didn’t want her dreams dashed before they’d even really gotten started.

  Robert smiled and nodded. “If anyone can solve this, it’s Miguel. He’s just like his mother that way.”

  “Thanks,” Miguel said and visibly tensed.

  In the short time she’d known both men, Maisy knew the subject of Miguel’s mom and Robert’s wife was a touchy one and so she changed the topic.

  “I would love your advice about my blog,” she said, and Robert latched on to that subject with passion, offering many suggestions on what she could post on the blog and how to incorporate social media to grow her following.

  After a spirited discussion, Robert said, “I so miss dealing with young minds like yours, but my university had a mandatory retirement age.”

  Which sparked an idea in Maisy. “Why don’t you start your own blog to share that experience? It would be so helpful to people like me.”

  Robert colored with the praise and nodded. “That sounds like a wonderful idea. I’d be delighted if you could help me.”

  “I’d love that,” she said with a broad smile.

  “And I’d love to let you keep brainstorming, but I have to get back to the team. Maybe you and Maisy can coordinate at another time?” Miguel said.

  “We can. I understand you have important work to do,” Robert said, and Miguel once again tensed, waiting for the shoe to drop, only it didn’t. “I will call you tomorrow to continue this discussion.”

  “I’d like that,” she said and rattled off her phone number. Repeated it for him as he wrote it down on a nearby pad of paper.

  “Tomorrow, then,” Robert said and stood just as the FBI agent guarding them returned with a bag whose smells filled the room.

  “Dinner,” the agent said and held up the bag.

  “Enjoy and thank you for watching my dad,” Miguel said as they walked to the door.

  “My pleasure. Anything for you, SSA Peters,” the agent said and walked toward the dining area in the suite.

  Robert joined them at the door, where they exchanged goodbyes, but as they were about to step outside, his father said, “¡Cuídate!”

  “I will,” Miguel said, his voice choked, prompting Maisy to wonder.

  Out in the hallway, Miguel turned to her and said, “It means ‘Take care.’ He used to say it to my mother whenever she left on an assignment.”

  So much pain, she thought as they walked back to the blue-glass skyscraper overlooking Puget Sound that housed Miguel’s home and the BAU offices.

  No, not his home, his prison, she thought. He was as much a prisoner of his past as she was, but at least she was trying to break free.

  It made her question what it would take for Miguel to escape his past and think that a different future was possible for him. One that didn’t end the way his mother’s life had.

  Maybe you, the little voice in her head said, but as Miguel dropped her off in his apartment after an FBI agent manned the door, she told herself that was impossible. She had dreams of an independent, adventurous life. One where she stood on her own and didn’t need the protection of a man like Miguel.

  But he could protect her from her father. From her past, and maybe that was part of the reason he intrigued her so. However, she wasn’t ready to sacrifice all that she dreamed of. The sooner they could finish this investigation, the better it would be for both of them.

  Which had her going back to the photos on her phone and her memories of the bomber in the hope of aiding in the investigation.

  * * *

  MIGUEL ENTERED THE BAU offices where Dash, Liam, and David were hard at work on their computers, digging up the information he had requested earlier.

  Nicholas and Madeline were inside the large conference room, sitting kitty-corner to each other and poring over assorted papers. He wondered if they included information on Maisy and her father. He’d taken a moment away from her to text his team about what he’d discovered. Hopefully, whatever they had would confirm his gut reaction that Maisy had nothing to do with the bomber’s actions.

  He knocked on the door to the conference room and at Madeline’s nod, he entered and sat. “What can you tell me?” He liked hearing what his team had to say before interjecting his own ideas into the investigation. He interrogated people much the same, letting them do the talking. It was amazing how much some criminals were willing to say voluntarily.

  Madeline handed over a folder and as he opened it the face of an older white man stared back at him. Richard Green. Maisy’s father.

  He tried to find anything of her in him physically but decided she must take after her mother. As he read through the details, Madeline gave him a quick rundown.

  “Richard Green, aka the Forest Conservation Bomber. Green had a successful landscaping business in Woodinville and was quite involved with local environmental groups, most of them legit. Somehow, he connected with the Forest Conservation League. Several of their members had been arrested for spiking trees, monkey-wrenching and arson. Green escalated their tactics to include over a dozen bombings at various logging locations and at a new construction site.”

  “Hug a tree, kill a human,” Nicholas said with disdain.

  “Extremism of any type can turn deadly,” Miguel added, thinking of the many radical groups he’d handled during his counterterrorism activities.

  “Maisy and her mom—” he began, but Nicholas beat him to it as Madeline handed him another folder, this one with photos of Maisy and her mother.

  “Maisy was formerly Elizabeth Green. Her mother’s maiden name was Patricia Kelly. Both her parents were only children, like Maisy. Maisy really has no other family except her father. Maisy and her mother have lived in Seattle since Green’s imprisonment. Patricia was sickly for the last three years of her life before she passed from uterine cancer. From what we can see, Maisy was a dutiful daughter and took care of her mother.”