“I remember that case,” the cop said, scribbling on the paper in front of him. “So, you can’t think of any ties between what you’re working on now and the explosion today?”

  “No.” Hope sighed and sat forward, resting her forearms on the table. “But there have been a few times lately when I’ve felt uneasy, usually while I’ve been doing legwork for the Lauren book. Like last week, when I went over to interview Diana’s best friend, I’d swear someone was following me.”

  “What?” Logan scowled. “I didn’t know being an author was such a dangerous business.”

  “It’s not usually.” Hope gave him a look. “And I don’t even know if that’s what happened—”

  “But it bothered you enough to remember. Lesson number one I learned as a SEAL: always trust your instincts.” He glanced over at the detective. “If someone is following her, you need to follow up.”

  “We know how to do our job, Mr. Miller. Thank you,” the officer said, his tone edged with annoyance. “Ms. Cabot, you believe this car was following you because of the Lauren case?”

  “Maybe? I can’t say for sure.” She shook her head and sat back, rubbing her nose again. “There was a minute where I thought the car was closing in on me, like it might try to run me off the road—but then I turned onto a busier street, and when I looked back again, the car was gone. The whole thing might have been my imagination. But now, with the bomb, I guess I really am in danger. Especially since you said this was planned with a timer. Maybe whoever was following me was worried I’d uncover some new evidence? Find out what actually happened to that poor girl? Give her family some closure?”

  The officer grunted and tapped his pen on the table. “What about the other project you mentioned? The gang story?”

  “Right. I’ve been writing a series of articles for the local newspaper about a Blood Slayer-related murder.” Hope ignored Logan’s incredulous stare and focused instead on the cop, whose eyes had widened as he typed rapidly into his computer. “You think that’s why I was targeted?”

  “Given what you’ve told me, that would be my guess, Ms. Cabot. Look, I’m going to share something with you we’ve been working on internally, but please know this information is strictly off the record. You can’t tell anyone what I’m about to share with you, is that understood?”

  Hope and Logan exchanged a glance, but then they both nodded.

  “If your articles are about the Sinclair murder specifically—” the detective raised an eyebrow at her, and she nodded to confirm that they were, “—then we have undercover evidence that proves that the number two in the Baltimore Blood Slayers organization was the triggerman. If the gang has somehow discovered your articles and believes your investigations might lead the authorities to him, then a bombing is the least they’d do to ensure your silence.”

  Hope sat back, stunned, not knowing what to say. Logan didn’t seem to have that problem.

  “If you have evidence that this guy is a killer, then why haven’t you arrested him?” Logan demanded. “He’d have no reason to target Hope if he knew that the truth was already out there.”

  “We do plan to arrest him,” the officer assured them. “But not yet—and here’s why. The department is actually working on a huge undercover operation as we speak to bring in not just Chavez—the number two—but also Evans, the Baltimore leader of the Slayers. If we brought in Chavez right now, before we had the chance to catch Evans in the act, then he might slip through our fingers. We need the sting to go forward, so we can’t arrest Chavez yet. The last thing we want is for the organization to get spooked and change their plans right before the big day. We’ve got a week until the sting is scheduled to go down. Until then, though, Ms. Cabot, I’d recommend you drop your story for the newspaper.”

  “What?” Hope tensed. “I can’t just quit a job like that out of the blue. It’s unprofessional.”

  “Considering you nearly got blown to bits today because of it, I think the newspaper that hired you will understand.” Logan reached over and took her hand. “I know your job is important to you, but you can’t put yourself in danger like that. And what about the baby?”

  The officer’s eyes dropped from Hope’s gaze to her abdomen then flicked back again. “Under the circumstances, I absolutely agree, Ms. Cabot. These gangs are ruthless.”

  She didn’t like the idea of ghosting on a job, but she didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize her baby either. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she said, “It won’t be easy for the paper to find someone to replace me. I’ve got a lot of experience with sensitive investigations. Maybe there’s a way I could keep working, but with special precautions or something.”

  “Hope,” Logan said, leaning a bit closer so his warmth penetrated her cotton hoodie, “listen to me. I know you’re the best at what you do, but this is going beyond just a sensitive investigation. This is incredibly dangerous, probably well beyond anything you’ve had to deal with before. I’ve heard some stories about this gang, and they’re nothing to mess around with. Seriously. I’ve only been back in town a few months and even I know who Evans and Chavez are. That’s not good. You don’t want to jeopardize the baby over this.”

  “But they’re already targeting me,” she pointed out. “Won’t they keep coming after me, no matter what I do? They’ll have no way of knowing if I’ve stopped my investigation.”

  “If you stay away from anything to do with the investigation, they’ll probably get the hint—especially if the newspaper starts printing stories about the murder that are written by someone else,” Logan suggested.

  “We have several officers undercover with the gang,” the detective added. “We can have someone point out that your byline isn’t on the stories anymore. Hopefully that’ll be enough proof for them to back off of you.”

  It was hard to argue with all of that. She gave a little nod and sank back in her chair as Logan reached over to shake the officer’s hand, then they were heading out of the station at last, which was good, since she needed space and fresh air to sort through the sudden mess her life had become.

  3

  By the time they’d finished at the police station and Logan had lined up a rental car for him and Hope, Logan felt tied up in knots. On the one hand, his protective instincts were going berserk. Someone had tried to hurt Hope and had nearly cost him his baby when he’d just found out he was going to be a father. That was fucked up. No doubt about it.

  On the other hand, he was every bit as upset as Hope was that she would have to change the way she was living her life because of these threats. He knew how important her job was to her, and someone was screwing with that. Hell, if someone had tried to mess with his SEAL team, he’d move heaven and hell to stop them. But this was about more than work now. They had a kid to think about, and there were some things more important than a job or a story.

  Things like their baby.

  He drove them back to her house and pulled up to the curb. He got out and walked around to her side, intending to open her door for her, but she beat him to it. She’d been pretty quiet on the ride home, and from what he’d remembered from two years of dating Hope, her silence was never a good sign.

  Sure enough, she was out of the car and striding up the sidewalk to the front door without even looking back at him. Yep. She was pissed all right. Logan stood on the sidewalk a moment, collecting his thoughts and doing his best not to notice how her hazel eyes sparkled with rage and her soft cheeks flushed the prettiest shade of pink when she was mad. Back in the old days, they’d both enjoyed making up after a heated argument, but there’d be none of that now. Because they weren’t together anymore, baby or not. The sooner he remembered that, the better.

  Now if he could just get his stupid, traitorous body on board, he’d be all set.

  Finally, after a deep breath, he followed her into the house, feeling pretty much the same as he did when his SEAL team crossed into enemy territory—tense, alert, ready for anything. He made it two steps into her living room before she rounded on him.

  “The more I think about it, the more I hate giving up that story, Logan. I mean, the last thing I want to do is hurt the baby at all, but there has to be a way around this.” She paced the living room, her footsteps echoing on the hardwood floor. He watched her, taking that in. Okay. She wasn’t pissed at him. She was pissed at the situation. He could work with that. “The newspaper’s not going to give up covering this story—but they don’t know what I know, because the detective said we couldn’t tell anyone about the sting or about Chavez gunning down Sinclair. Someone else will get assigned to cover the story, and they won’t know what they’re up against—won’t know the danger they’re in. How can I do that to someone? Doesn’t it make more sense for me to be the one on the story, since I understand what’s at stake? I’ve been an investigative journalist for a long time, Logan, and I know how to handle myself. With all the technology today, there has to be a way I can keep working.”

  Logan stayed silent, setting the rental car keys on the table then closing the door behind him as she continued.

  “I’ll pack a bag and go stay at a hotel for a couple of days, lay low. Shift my investigation to entirely digital. The paper has servers that are off the grid. I’ll run my work through them so that Chavez and the others can’t trace anything back to my location. I shouldn’t have any trouble keeping that up for just a week. I’ve done it for longer in the past, when I was dealing with some other threats.”

  “Wait.” He frowned. “You didn’t say anything to the detective about being threatened before.”

  Her gaze darted to him, then away again. “It’s ancient history. I got doxxed early on in my career when I was working with some other reporters on a piece about political corruption in Baltimore. After they convicted the guys, the doxxing stopped. No big deal.” Logan blinked at her. “Oh, and I did get one phone call, after my last book came out. Someone saying they were going to get me, but it was traced to the murderer’s family, so that was that. Both incidents were resolved—and both were years ago. They’re not a factor now, which is why I didn’t bring them up. I’m not a rookie, Logan. I know what I’m doing.”

  “I know you do,” he said. “And if this was just an angry guy leaving graffiti on your car or leaving angry phone messages, I’d trust you to know how to handle it. But this gang, Hope…they’re brutal. And it’s not just one guy—it’s dozens of them, and they could strike at any moment. When you’re up against this kind of force, it’s my area of expertise. Well, the security part anyway. That’s what I do on my SEAL team—handle threats, work out safe scenarios and strategies for my team.”

  “We’re not together anymore. I’m not your team,” Hope argued, but Logan just raised an eyebrow.

  “Part of you is.” His gaze darted to her abdomen, then back to her eyes again. “I’m not trying to take over, but we’d do better working together here, Hope. I’m not your enemy.”

  They watched each other across the span of the living room for several tense minutes as the air around them seemed to cool. He still felt jumbled inside, torn and twisted, but mainly, he just felt worried. And whenever he felt like that, he always got busy, doing whatever he could to fix the situation and make it more secure. Except now, he had to tread carefully because she was right. They weren’t together anymore. He had just walked back into her life—and his plan had been to apologize and then step back, let her lead her life without interfering. The danger she was in now changed the picture, but it didn’t give him the right to decide what was best for her. Only she could do that.

  Eventually, he hung his head and stared at the floor, hands on his hips. “I’m sorry.”

  “What?” the disbelief in her tone made him wince, mainly because it was understandable.

  He tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling for a moment, then looked at her. “I said I’m sorry. You’re right. I don’t know what’s going on here. You’ve changed. I’ve changed. The world’s changed. I just…” He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his hand. “I just want to help.”

  “I know.” She blinked at him a moment, then her stiff shoulders sagged a bit as she flopped down on one end of the sofa, tucking a leg beneath her. “I know. And I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I’m just under a lot of pressure, and then the bomb and…” She sighed. “God. What a mess.”

  “Yep.” He took a seat on the opposite end from her and stared at the beige wall across from him. “So…”

  “So.” Hope twisted the zip of her hoodie in her fingers.

  “I’ve been working at a friend’s private security firm,” Logan blurted out. “To keep me occupied until I re-enlist. It’s called Davis Security, and they specialize in private protection. If you want to keep going with this story, it might not be a bad idea to consider hiring us to be on hand and keep you safe, since the cops aren’t going to be arresting any gang members while they’ve got this sting operation going on.”

  “Right.” Hope chuckled. “And that way you could hang around here twenty-four seven.”

  “No. That isn’t what I meant.” He gave her a side glance. “In fact, I’d probably turn the case down if they offered it to me.”

  That seemed to surprise her because she didn’t respond right away. Just stared at him until the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Finally, she said, “Why?”

  Answering that question would require opening up—really opening up in a way that he rarely did. His first urge was to walk out, run away like he’d always done in the past when things got too heavy, too overwhelming, but he forced himself to stay put and tell her the truth. “Because I’m afraid the longer I stay here, around you and the baby, the greater the chance of me hurting you again.” He didn’t look at her, didn’t want to see her expression. Logan got up and stalked across the living room to look out the window instead. “Besides, you should have more than one guy on this anyway. That way, you can have someone with you around the clock.” He shrugged. “Or, you could drop the story.” She started to protest, but he held up a hand. “Listen, I know it’s not what you want, but it might be for the best. With the baby involved. You can still warn the paper—tell them everything except who’s actually behind it. Tell them about the car bombing. Make sure they know how serious the danger is. Then they can decide for themselves how they want to handle it. That’s their right, isn’t it?”

  Hope sat there for what seemed like a small eternity before she finally got up and walked over to grab her cell phone from the charging pad in the kitchen. With her gaze never leaving his, she dialed a number, then held the device to her ear. “Yes, hi, Stan. It’s Hope Cabot. Listen, I’ve got some bad news. I’ve been attacked. A bomb was planted in my car. No, no, I’m fine—I wasn’t near it when it went off. But when I spoke to the police, they told me that for my safety, I should stay away from the Sinclair case.” There was a pause as the person on the other end spoke. “Yes, that’s right.” Another pause. “No, we can’t know for sure that the bomb was connected to the story—but the police think so, and I do, too. It’s up to you what direction the paper takes from here, but I won’t be going any further with the story. And if you do decide to continue, I wanted you to know what you and the reporter might be up against.” Another pause, then Hope gave a relieved sigh. “Thanks for understanding. Just let me know who ends up with the story, and I’ll be sure to send them all my notes right away. Okay. Yep. Thanks. Bye.”

  After they ended the call, Hope flopped back on the sofa and stared down at her hands in her lap. “Satisfied?”

  “Yes.” He took his seat on the sofa again, wanting to reach over and take her hand, but knowing that wasn’t allowed. So, instead, he gave her a small smile. “I know that was difficult for you, but under the circumstance I really do think it’s the right decision.”

  “Hmm.” One side of her pink, full lips curved upward, lifting his spirits a bit. “Where does that leave us then?”

  “Well.” He inhaled deep. “I’d like to stick around for a few days, if that’s okay. Unless you call my security firm or hire someone else for protection.”

  “Logan…I can’t afford to hire full-time security.”

  “Then I’ll stay,” he responded immediately. “No charge.”

  She hesitated. “Won’t that be…weird?” she asked, her voice oddly tentative. But he took encouragement from the fact that she wasn’t rejecting the idea outright.

  “Not if we don’t let it be,” he assured her. “The cop said their sting is going down next week, so you just need to lie low until then.”

  “You got all the bases covered, huh?” Hope met his gaze then, the same flicker of teasing he remembered from back when they’d been together. It gave him the same flutter of awareness low in his belly, too. He tamped it down before it ignited like a roman candle inside him. Dangerous, that.

  Logan grinned in return, not one-hundred percent confident in the situation, but feeling better than before. “Always.”

  Hope excused herself to change her clothes, feeling completely confused inside. Since the breakup, she’d made herself remember the bad things about Logan, the sadness and frustration she’d felt when he’d turned away from her, refusing to talk about what he was going through; the despair that had grown as he’d crawled deeper and deeper into a bottle. Focusing on those negative emotions made it easier not to care so much about losing. Made it easier not to miss him. But now, with him back in her life, smiling at her like that, all the old affection came rushing back just when she didn’t want it.

  She pulled on a fresh pair of leggings and a clean white T-shirt, then went to the bathroom to scrub her face. Her sinuses still stung from the acrid stench of the explosion, and there were tiny bits of ash in her hair from fiery wreckage of the car. Each time she closed her eyes, she could still see the flames, could still smell the burning rubber tires, could still feel the racing of her heart and the wobble in her knees, and in truth, she was terrified beyond reason.