Watching Over Her. Lisa Childs

“How is he taking care of you?”

      If he was asking what she thought he was...

      She shuddered in revulsion. “Not like that. Mark is like my brother, too. We all grew up together.”

      Blaine clicked the remote and unfroze Mark’s image. Andy’s brother kept smiling at her...before Susan walked up and started flirting with him. “What about with her?” he asked. “Is he brotherly with Susan Iverson?”

      She hoped not. “Mark is married. He’s not interested in Susan.” But as she watched the footage, she wondered. “Maybe he’s just a flirt...” Sometimes it felt as if he was flirting with her, which always made her extremely uncomfortable. Because she really thought of Mark as a big brother and only a big brother.

      “I need to talk to Mark,” Blaine said. “Where can I get hold of him?”

      “I think I have his address somewhere in my office. He and his wife invited me to dinner before.” But she had politely declined because it was so hard to see him. “I can call him...”

      She would really prefer calling him to seeing him.

      But Blaine shook his head. “I’ll get his address from your office. Then I’ll put you back into protective custody.”

      “Because that worked out so well last time?” she asked. “How is that young officer?” Before they had left the little bungalow for the bank, Blaine had called the hospital to check on him, but all he’d told her was that the young man had made it through surgery.

      “He’s still in critical condition,” he said.

      “Then just let me call Mark,” she urged, her heart beating fast with panic at the thought of being separated from Blaine again. “You can talk to him—you’ll know that he had nothing to do with the robberies.”

      But Blaine shook his head in refusal. “No, I have to see him face-to-face.”

      So he had to leave her again.

      And every time he left her, there was another attempt to grab her. One of these times the attempt was destined to be successful.

      Would this be the time?

Chapter Ten

      Every time Blaine left her alone or in someone else’s protection, Maggie Jenkins was in danger. He didn’t want to risk it again. It was better that she stayed with him. So she sat in the passenger seat of the FBI-issued SUV that had replaced his rental sedan as he drove to her almost brother-in-law’s address.

      But now was he the one putting her in danger?

      He shouldn’t have brought her along with him. But he couldn’t risk a phone call that might have tipped off Mark Doremire to his suspicions. If the man was one of the robbers, he certainly had enough money to escape the country—to one where there was no extradition.

      Hell, he was probably already gone.

      But then, who kept trying to grab Maggie or kill her? And why? If she could identify them, wouldn’t it be easier to escape now than to stick around to try to kill her?

      “This trip is a waste of time,” she remarked from the passenger’s seat. “Mark won’t be able to help you, either—just like I couldn’t help you this morning at the bank.”

      She had helped him. He’d found a possible suspect. She just didn’t want to see that her dead fiancé’s brother could be a suspect.

      “I watched all that footage and I didn’t notice anyone casing the bank,” she said, her soft voice husky with frustration. “I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. And I didn’t at the first bank that was robbed.”

      He should have brought up that footage, too. But she’d already admitted that Mark Doremire had been at that bank. Both banks had been robbed—it was a coincidence that was worth checking out.

      But he should have checked it out alone. “You really shouldn’t be along with me,” he said regretfully.

      “No,” she agreed, even though it had been her comments that had talked him out of risking her safety to someone else’s responsibility. “I don’t want to see Mark. And I really don’t want to see one of those zombie robbers again.” She shuddered with revulsion. “Maybe I should go stay with my parents in Hong Kong.”

      His pulse leaped in reaction to her comment, to the thought of her going away where he couldn’t protect her, where he couldn’t see her. “You can’t leave the country.”

      “Why?” she asked, her voice sharp with anger. “Am I still a suspect?”

      He wasn’t sure what she was. Entirely too distracting. Entirely too attractive...

      He couldn’t let her leave. “Right now you’re a material witness.”

      “Some witness,” she said disparagingly. “I can’t help you at all. I didn’t see anything on that footage. And during the robberies I only saw what everyone else saw—trench coats and zombie masks.” She shuddered again at mention of the disguises.

      She obviously hated those gruesome masks.

      “You heard one of them speak,” he reminded her.

      She shrugged. “But I didn’t recognize his voice.”

      So it hadn’t been Mark Doremire who’d spoken. But it could have been someone he knew—a friend of his. “You might if you were to hear it again.”

      She sighed with resignation. “That’s true. I doubt I’ll forget him announcing the robbery the minute they walked into the bank.”

      Like the guns and disguises hadn’t given away their intentions.

      Announcing a robbery made them seem more like rookies than professionals. But then, they hadn’t been robbing banks that long. Less than a year—barely half a year, actually. Blaine would catch them before they went any longer. If he had his way, the last bank they robbed would be the one at which Sarge had died.

      “Which house is it?” he asked as he turned the black SUV onto the street on which Mark Doremire lived. The SUV would probably give away Blaine’s identity, but he tucked his badge inside his shirt.

      “I don’t know,” Maggie replied. “I haven’t been here before.” She leaned forward and peered at the numbers on the houses. “That one...”

      This neighborhood wasn’t like Ash’s. Nobody looked out the windows. They probably looked the other way. The houses were in ill repair, with missing shingles and paint peeling off. If Mark had stolen any of the money, he hadn’t spent it yet—at least not on his house.

      “I’ll stay in the car,” she offered.

      Blaine turned toward her. Her face was pale, as if she’d already seen a ghost. “I can’t leave you in the car.”

      “Why not?”

      “Someone could have followed us.”

      She glanced around fearfully. “Did someone?”

      He doubted it; he had been too careful. “I don’t know. But I don’t want you out of my sight.”

      He didn’t want her walking into the line of fire, either. So he handed her his cell phone. “Call him.”

      “But we’re already here...”

      If she tipped Mark off now and he ran, Blaine was close enough to catch him. He’d also radioed in his intentions to speak to a possible suspect. So other agents and the local authorities knew where he was and there was a deputy in the vicinity.

      “Call him.”

      She sighed but looked down at the piece of paper that had Mark’s address and cell phone. Then she punched in