“Not what I meant, smartass.” She scooted in her seat, still pressing the tissues to her temple with one hand and said, “Get your phone out again.”

  “Why?” He scowled. The wail of sirens in the distance was getting closer, thank goodness.

  “Because you need to take down the license plate number from that sedan.”

  He blinked at her a moment, confused. “I’m sorry?”

  “The license plate number. While you were in a daze, I got a look at it before they sped away.”

  Her grin finally broke through his disbelief, and Logan laughed. Damn. Hope had always been clever, and she never missed a thing. In fact, it was one of the things he loved most about her, but right now… Well, right now he could kiss her. So he did. When he finally pulled back, they were both smiling. “You’re incredible.”

  “I know.” She winked at him just as two cop cars and an ambulance arrived, parking alongside the SUV. Logan got out his phone and typed in the number Hope rattled off to his notes, then sat back as the EMTs started jimmying the passenger side door to try to get her out.

  By the time they’d given their reports to the police and the EMTs had gotten Hope’s head bandaged, Logan had sent the plate number off to his buddies at the security agency to run.

  “Ma’am,” one of the EMTs said to Hope, “because of your pregnancy, we want to take you in to the hospital for tests.”

  “Is something wrong?” Logan asked, shoving his phone back in his pocket.

  “No, sir,” the second EMT said. “Just routine procedure after an MVA involving a pregnancy.”

  “I’m fine,” Hope protested and started to sit up from the gurney they’d placed her on. “Seriously, there’s no need for an ER visit. We’ve got an appointment to get to and—”

  “Uh, no.” Logan placed a hand on her shoulder to keep her in place. “We should go and get everything checked out, for the insurance company at least.” Not to mention he had a bad feeling about all this. Yes, the police had told them Hope was safe now, but this accident had him on edge—especially since it clearly hadn’t been an accident at all. Slamming into them at full speed, pulling out again immediately…no one did those things accidentally. It was morning on a bright, sunny day. There was no chance that the guy hadn’t seen them. No, this was a deliberate attack. He needed time to think and for the guys to run that plate. Going to the hospital to have her checked out would give him that. Besides, the SUV was undriveable, and it would take a while for the guys to arrange a replacement for them. “The interview with Desmond can wait. You and the baby are more important right now. Let’s go to the ER and just confirm everything’s all right, okay?”

  Hope looked like she wanted to argue more, but finally she relented. “Fine. But you’re staying with me.”

  “I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” he said, climbing into the back of the ambulance with her after they’d loaded her gurney in.

  7

  They got home a couple of hours later. The guys had had a new SUV dropped off in the hospital parking lot, and Logan had driven them home at a snail’s pace, double checking all his mirrors before moving an inch. They’d received more than a few honks and a couple rude finger gestures, but he didn’t give a shit. As long as Hope and the baby were safe, the rest of the world could just deal.

  She’d gotten a clean bill of health, praise God. And the ER had sent her home with some free vitamin samples and a sheet of instructions on how to handle the inevitable soreness that always came the day after a car accident. If she had any problems or questions, she was to contact them immediately.

  Logan parked at the curb, then got out to help Hope from the vehicle. He could tell by her expression that she was getting more annoyed with him by the second, but he couldn’t seem to stop fussing over her.

  “Will you stop it?” she said finally, slapping at his hands when he all but carried her up the sidewalk to the porch. “I’m pregnant, not an invalid.”

  “Sorry,” he said, taking the keys from her hand and turning away from her to unlock the door to hide his grin. Man, she was cute when she was pissed. Not that she’d appreciate hearing that right now, especially from him. And he shouldn’t be thinking it either. He was here as protection, that was it. The sooner he remembered that, the better. Which meant no more kisses—no matter how good they felt.

  He let them in her place and then pulled out his phone again. Logan frowned down at the blank screen. He’d hoped to see some kind of news from the cops or his security team buddies with progress on the case. The cops had the plate number too, so someone should have been able to run it by now.

  “Any news?” Hope asked as she went into the kitchen for a bottled water. She offered him one, but he declined.

  “No, not yet.” He plunked down on one end of the sofa as Hope took the other. She clicked on the TV, then opened her laptop to work. Logan stared at the flickering images on the flatscreen but didn’t really see them. His mind was still racing from the accident, trying to figure out who might have been behind it. The police still insisted that the gang was off Hope’s tail, at least according to the detective who’d met them at the ER. Logan might’ve snapped at the guy then, but dammit. His temper was running short, and he couldn’t understand how the police had screwed this all up so badly. And if it wasn’t the gang responsible for the hit-and-run today, then who the hell was behind it?

  Gah. His head hurt and his chest felt tight. This line of thinking was getting him nowhere and only making him more frustrated.

  Thankfully, his phone buzzed with a text from his security buddies. According to the plate number, the sedan that had struck them belonged to a local rental company and had been rented just that morning. The renter owned a chauffeur company who handled transport for a handful of rich Baltimore society families, none of whom had ties to the mob or the gang.

  Perfect.

  Another dead end.

  “I got an email from the reporter I turned the gang story over to,” Hope said, drawing Logan out of his thoughts. “He says he hasn’t received any threats or had any problems, even though he’s already put out two stories on the Sinclair case under his byline, so maybe what happened earlier today didn’t have anything to do with the gang. Could it really have been just a hit-and-run?”

  “Maybe.” He raked a hand through his hair and sat forward, setting his phone on the coffee table in front of him and scrubbing a hand over his face. “It doesn’t seem likely, though. That kind of behavior…that’s just not how people act when they didn’t intend to hurt anyone. But if it wasn’t an accident, and it wasn’t the gangs, then what else could it be? What would make someone threaten your life? Something else you’re working on?”

  “Not sure what that would be.” She shrugged. “Like I said, my only other project is the Diana Lauren case, but that was twenty years ago. Why would anyone be so upset about it? I’ve only interviewed a handful of people, and most of them aren’t even local.”

  “Hmm.” Logan exhaled slow then stood, picking up his phone again. “The guys at my security agency got a name for me from the plate number. Mick Kleypas. A chauffeur. I’m going to dig into him. See if there’s some connection between him and that Lauren case.” At her dubious look, he sighed. “I know it’s not much to go on, but it’s all I’ve got right now.”

  Before he’d really gotten a chance to dig into it though, his phone buzzed, this time with a call from his boss at the agency, Tink Williams. Logan had been in touch with plenty of the guys on the team for the past few days—but they had all told him that the boss didn’t usually reach out unless there was a problem.

  Shit. Just shit.

  He’d thought he’d been doing a pretty good job of keeping up with his duties with the security team while still keeping an eye on Hope, but maybe not. And yeah, he probably should’ve run his plans to work remotely past Tink first, but the guys had said they’d cover for him, and he’d had so much else on his mind. Everyone said that the rules around the office were pretty lax as long as you got the job done, but he was the new guy on the block and…

  Fuck.

  “Miller,” he answered, doing his best to sound as casual as possible.

  “Where the hell are you?” Tink said, his gruff tone as intimidating as the man himself. Roscoe “Tink” Williams was in his early forties and six-foot-six of solid muscle and attitude. He’d gotten his nickname not from the Disney character—you only tried that joke once with Tink, and lived to regret it—but because he loved tinkering around with stuff and could build a weapon or anything else out of just about anything. He was like the modern day MacGyver or something. “Did I okay this remote work bullshit? Because I have no memory of that conversation, Logan.”

  “Uh, no. I…” What could he say? I decided on my own to do what I wanted? I took it upon myself to make my personal matters a priority? Put myself before the team? Logan didn’t want to believe that any of those things were true. That wasn’t the kind of man he was. Not to mention, he needed this damned job. Not just for the paycheck but also to keep himself busy and out of trouble until he went back to his SEAL team. Dammit. He wasn’t a guy who went around talking about himself, but he’d always found honesty to be the best policy, so that’s what he went with. “Listen, I’ve got a situation with a friend. She’s been targeted by some attacks, and I’ve been trying to help her out with protection and some investigation into who might be behind it.” He left out the part about the baby. There were some lines he wasn’t ready to cross yet. “But I’ve been handling my assignments at the office virtually, and everything should be caught up. I’m keeping on top of all my cases, I swear.”

  “Right. And what about using my staff as a support team for your personal project?”

  Logan cringed. Shit. He’d hoped to keep to himself the fact he’d asked the guys to run that plate number for him. “Sorry. It won’t happen again.”

  “Damn straight, it won’t. I’ll let it slide just this once, but in return, I expect you to get your butt down here and show me that you’re committed to this job. I want you working back in the office today,” Tink said, his stern tone brooking no argument. “Understood?”

  A wise man would’ve heeded that warning, and every SEAL-trained instinct inside Logan screamed for him to do so, but now it wasn’t just about him. There was Hope and the baby to consider. She was looking at him now, her expression chock full of WTF. He thought of how she’d looked just a few hours before, blood trickling down her face and horror filling her eyes. “Tink, sir, I’m sorry, but I can’t do that.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He held up a finger to Hope, asking her to give him a minute, then walked down the hall and closed himself into her office before continuing. “Look, Tink, I appreciate you taking me on, especially since it was such short notice and I’m only here for a couple of months, but this situation with my friend has escalated to the point where her life is in danger. I can’t just leave her to deal with this on her own.”

  “That’s what police are for,” Tink said. “And our paying clients need your protection too, Logan.”

  “I know, sir. And like I said, I’m handling all my cases. Nothing will fall through the cracks because of me, I promise.”

  “Except my bottom line.” Tink cursed quietly. He took a deep breath, the sound reverberating over the phone line. “I appreciate you want to help out a friend. I get it. I do. But I’ve got a business to run here too, Logan. And I need my team on the floor, ready to deal with whatever comes up. We pride ourselves on our prompt and exceptional service. So, I’m sorry, but unless your friend wants to become a client, you need to drop this and get your ass back to the office. Today.”

  Now it was Logan’s turn to curse. He couldn’t walk away from Hope and their baby. Especially not now. He rubbed the back of his neck, which was starting to become sore from the accident, just like the ER doc had warned them, then asked, “How much would it cost for my friend to hire me exclusively per week, round the clock, for protection?”

  “Round the clock?” Tink hesitated, probably calculating the figures in his head, then said, “Ten thousand a week.”

  “What?” Logan scowled at the wall across from him. It was possible Tink was just making up some ridiculous sum, but then again, he was the boss and could charge what he wanted. But it still sucked. Even if Hope had that kind of money sitting around, Logan had a feeling that the investigation into who was after her would last a couple of weeks, which would only drive the grand total higher and…

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  “What’s it gonna be, Logan?” Tink asked, a hint of victory in his voice that rubbed Logan all kinds of wrong. “Either you come into the office today to get to work—or to clean out your desk. Your choice.”

  He inhaled deeply, running his own numbers in his head. He’d saved up most of his military pay. It was more than enough to cover his bills for the next few months before he re-enlisted. He’d gotten the job less to cover expenses and more to have a way to keep himself occupied. He didn’t need the paycheck. More than that, he’d never forgive himself if he went back to work only to have something happen to Hope and the baby. In the end, there was no choice at all.

  “Right,” Logan said, gut tight and heart squeezing. “Then I guess I’ll come in…and clear out that desk.”

  8

  The next day, Hope sat in the passenger side of the new rental car Logan had gotten for them—the one he’d picked up after returning the rental car his agency had arranged for him and clearing out his desk at work. She’d asked him about that, but he hadn’t been too forthcoming with the details.

  In the past day, she’d done some digging into Mick Kleypas, the chauffeur, but hadn’t been able to find much about him. He had a spiffy, professional-looking website, but no social media accounts. There was a section on his website, however, that listed testimonials from clients, so she’d mined that for names and had also called the number listed for his office, pretending to be a prospective new client. She had asked for names and phone numbers for references.

  His receptionist had explained that most people used their chauffeur service as a one-off deal for rides to and from the airport or wedding parties or whatever, but she was happy enough to send along the names of three regular clients who used their services routinely.

  Which explained why they were now sitting at the curb in a rented compact car staring up at a colonial-style mansion belonging to Doug Roberts.

  She checked the address on her phone, then glanced over at Logan behind the wheel. “This is it.”

  “Great,” he said with zero enthusiasm. He reached for the door handle and gave her a pointed stare. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” She started to argue, but he cut her off. “I mean it, Hope. We had an agreement.”

  “Fine,” she huffed and sat back as he exited the vehicle, then jogged up the neatly manicured walkway to the front door. Logan knocked and moments later, a stout older man in his late sixties answered. They spoke for several seconds, during which Logan asked him the questions he and Hope had gone over beforehand—about how long he’d lived in Baltimore, how he’d come to know about the chauffeur service, and if he knew anyone by the name of C. Parsons, the last name of the list of three Hope had received, and the one person she hadn’t been able to track down yet.

  From a distance, she saw the conversation play out, but couldn’t tell how it was going. At the very least, Doug seemed willing to answer questions. He and Logan talked for maybe five minutes before Doug returned inside. Logan walked back to the car and climbed in, a gust of autumn air chasing after him.

  “So?” she asked, clasping her hands in her lap.

  “So, he’s not our guy.” Logan jammed the keys into the ignition, cranked the engine, then stared out the windshield. His close-cropped brown hair was too short to get ruffled, but she still felt the crazy urge to slip her fingers through it to see if it felt as soft as she’d remembered from earlier when they’d kissed. Her mind then went to the kiss itself, and fresh heat sizzled inside her because, yeah, that had been a good kiss.

  Focus, girl!

  With more effort than she cared to admit, Hope shook off those naughty thoughts about Logan and his lips and where she might like him to use them on her next, and forced her attention back to the case. “Why do you say that?”

  He told her about Doug’s answers. “He’s not American—he’s from Sweden and has only lived in the US for the past three years. He has no personal ties to Baltimore, just got a place here for business. He’s not even here most of the time—he usually stays at his house in Florida. He was only back this week to take care of some business in the area. So yeah, he’s not our guy,” Logan repeated before shifting the car into drive then looking over at her at last. “Where to next?”

  Hope sighed and checked her phone again, rattling off the address. “Ann Hildestad. Let’s hope she’s a better lead.”

  They nosed out into traffic and headed across town to another ritzy neighborhood filled with gigantic houses and manicured lawns. They pulled up in front of the address, and Hope noticed a For Sale sign in the front yard. A new idea occurred to her. Maybe they could use that sign to their advantage. Plus, she could get out and stretch her legs, which sounded great since her butt was numb from sitting in one spot for too long.

  “How about if we pretend to be a couple interested in buying the house? From what I could find on the internet, Ann had to be in her eighties now, and she might feel more comfortable talking to a couple rather than a strange man.”

  “Hope…” he started, then sighed. “Fine. But you stay behind me, just in case. Got it?”

  “Got it.” She grinned and climbed out of the passenger side and walked up to the door with him. They knocked and waited until Ann answered.

  She was short and slightly hunched, with rosy cheeks and white hair. The sort of woman who would’ve made an excellent Ms. Claus in a Christmas parade. She smiled at them as she answered. “Hello there. What can I do for you today?”