Allie started to respond, but Max took a deep breath, and she knew he hadn’t finished.
“It’s no excuse for pushing you away before,” he said, looking more guilty and ashamed than anyone she’d ever seen, “but once I found out you were pregnant, I went from being overjoyed to being terrified. I let the PTSD take ahold of me, and I spent every day knowing that if something happened to you, I’d lose the both of you, and it was more than I could stand. So I pulled away, cowardly. I was angry with myself for not being stronger, for keeping you upset, for failing you. I became consumed by the negatives. I hid behind my job, and I lost sight of what was right here in front of me. I am deeply sorry.” He pulled her close and swept the backs of his fingers across her cheek, tucking hair behind her ears and looking at her as if she was the only thing that had ever mattered. “I’m able to say all that now, because I took your advice after the divorce. It was too late to save us, but I talked to someone at the VA who helped me figure out my mess.”
Allie’s breath caught, and hope curled through her heart. All she’d ever wanted was to be a part of Max’s life. His whole life. She wanted him to trust her with his feelings and talk to her like she was his best friend, because he had always been hers. She’d told him those things a thousand times, but she’d never thought he heard her. His unexpected confession meant more to her than anything else he could possibly have done. She turned her hands in his and squeezed. “It doesn’t have to be too late.”
She cupped his cheek, caressing the sweet stubble and rising back onto her toes. “You are all I’ve ever wanted. But I need all of you, not just the pieces you think are best. You have to trust me with everything. Like our marriage vows said, for better and for worse. I need more than a protector, Max. I need a partner. And so do you.” She locked her stubborn gaze with his remorseful one. “Even fancy explosives experts and war heroes need someone to take care of them once in a while.”
A slow smile spread over Max’s handsome face. “Are you offering?”
Allie pressed her lips to his, then curled her fingertips in the material of his shirt. She stepped backward, tugging him toward her bedroom. “I am.”
He followed easily, still smiling. “You think I’m fancy?”
Allie laughed as she closed her door behind them and pressed him against it. “I do. Now shut up and kiss me.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Max woke to the sounds and scents of breakfast. Running water, the gentle clang of pans and soft sizzle of bacon floated to his ears in the small one-story home. Allie’s sweet voice rose above it all as she sang a silly song, presumably to their little boy. A smile broke across Max’s face as he let the moment settle in.
He was glad Allie had agreed to let him stay last night. Honestly, he wasn’t sure he could have brought himself to leave. If she’d insisted, he’d probably have slept in his car outside her front door. He wasn’t completely sure how he could leave her today. Or ever again, but that was something he’d have to work out later. They’d have plenty to talk about, and some complicated things to figure out, once his case was closed and it was time for him to return to Traverse City. Like, did she mean it when she’d said there was still a chance for them? For more than a few nights?
Max swung himself out of bed and reached for his prosthesis. He arranged the heavy liner at the bottom of his residual limb, then rolled it slowly up his leg, careful not to leave any air against his skin inside the liner. He bent his knee to pull on the device, then rolled the sleeve up his thigh. He dressed slowly, taking time to wake up and enjoying the moment. The scent of Allie’s cooking in the air, and the scent of her on his skin.
Max Jr.’s laugh trickled down the hall, pulling Max to the kitchen. The toddler shoved chubby fistfuls of dry cereal and strawberries into his mouth while Allie flipped bacon in a frying pan. She sang a song Max didn’t recognize, full of animal names and rhymes. Then she turned to bow for their son.
Both men clapped.
“Hey!” Allie pointed her spatula at Max. “No creeping.”
“I was admiring,” he said. “Can you blame me?”
She grinned, cheeks pink and wearing his white V-neck T-shirt like a nightgown. “When the person you’re admiring doesn’t know she’s being watched, it’s called creeping,” she said. “I should call the FBI about you.” She turned back to a pan of scrambled eggs beside the bacon.
“Please do,” he said. “I know a guy who’d love to get your call anytime.” Max kissed his son’s head, then poured a mug of coffee, taking his time before he reached his ex-wife. “I’ve missed this,” he said, setting a hand on her back and leaning in to kiss her cheek. “I’ve missed you.”
“Back at ya,” she said, shooting him an impish look. “How’d you sleep?”
Max laughed. “Deeply. I haven’t slept for six hours straight in months.”
“Have you ever?” she asked. “I remember you sneaking out of bed most nights when we were married. Into your office to work.”
Max sipped his coffee, remorseful for all the time he could’ve spent with her, but he’d willingly stayed away. He probably hadn’t slept a full night since he’d joined the military. Definitely not since joining the TCD, but he could’ve spent those sleepless hours in her arms instead of buried in his work. “I’m not sure how you got away this morning without me noticing.”
Allie turned the fire off under each pan, then offered Max a sad smile. “Maybe the fact you haven’t slept in the better part of a decade had something to do with it.”
“Maybe,” he said, admiring her body as she ferried a plate of eggs to their son. Her legs were long and lean, visible nearly to her perfect backside in that shirt, and he ached to take her back to bed.
“Hungry?” she asked.
“Ravenous.”
She blushed again, and he had to remind himself there was a toddler in the room.
Determined to behave himself, and enjoy another family breakfast before he had to go, he fixed two plates of eggs and bacon, then carried them to the table.
“Thanks,” Allie said, taking a seat.
Max lowered onto the chair across from her, then dug into his meal. It didn’t take long before a sliver of guilt wiggled into his bliss. The rest of his team had likely lost sleep last night, chasing leads and trying to find the bomber. Max had essentially taken a vacation.
“You’re frowning,” Allie said. “What’s wrong?”
He forced a smile and nearly told her it was nothing, then remembered that move had cost him everything once before. “I’m wondering how things went with the search of O’Lear’s apartment, and if there were any more bomb threats or news since I fell asleep.”
Allie considered him. “You haven’t checked your phone?”
Max fished his phone from his pocket, shocked that it hadn’t been the first thing he’d done when he woke.
“I can also say with complete certainty that if your team had needed you, they’d have shown up at my door and knocked it down if necessary.”
He laughed at the imagery. She wasn’t wrong about them coming for him, if they’d truly needed him.
“Don’t feel bad for getting some sleep,” she said. “You can’t be at your best when you’re running on empty. It’s as if you did them all a favor. You’ll be sharper from the rest.”
Max scrolled through his missed texts and emails. Chief Drees had come through with a warrant to search O’Lear’s apartment just before Max stopped back at the hotel to shower and change for dinner with Allie. The team had sent regular updates with photos and appeared to have carefully overturned every object in a show of extreme due diligence. A footlocker in the back of his closet held enough evidence to link O’Lear to both blasts and to the bomb in Teske’s office. Packaging and receipts for four pressure cookers. Multiple Tannerite containers, and a mother lode of empty labeled containers meant for nails, bolts and BBs.
Max smiled. If the bomb-making materials alone could have possibly been argued in court as circumstantial, the detailed personal account of O’Lear’s perceived wrongs, his plans for action and the step-by-step guide to building and detonating his bombs would put him away for life. All that was missing were the names of his targets. O’Lear had only used pronouns.
Simultaneous relief and anxiety flushed through Max as he processed the news. The TCD had everything they needed to put O’Lear away, but they still hadn’t found him, and they didn’t know when or where he’d attack again.
And to make matters worse, O’Lear had probably seen his apartment being searched, which meant he knew they had him. With nothing left to lose, someone as unhinged as the Grand Rapids bomber would become more dangerous than ever.
“Meeting at eight,” he said, tucking the phone back into his pocket.
The team had been busy, but they’d gotten along just fine while he’d rested.
He went back to his meal, itching to hear more about O’Lear’s apartment search straight from his colleagues’ mouths. He’d also like to stop by and take a look for himself. If he hurried, he could get to the station early enough to spend some time with the emails he’d just flipped through and familiarize himself with all the information he’d missed last night, before the meeting began.
Allie wiped her pretty mouth with a napkin, her plate nearly empty. “I can see your mental wheels turning. You’re eager to get out there and chase the bad guy.”
“I am,” he admitted, drawn back to the moment, to the good things in his life, and away from the darker pieces. “Can I see you again tonight?”
“Yes, please,” Allie said, smiling sweetly across the small table.
It took more willpower than he thought he had, but Max removed himself from the table, showered and dressed for work. He kissed Allie and their baby goodbye at the door. The moment felt a lot like old times, except better. There was a new peace and understanding between him and Allie now, one he wished he’d been able to facilitate a year ago, before the divorce papers had arrived.
“Be safe, okay?” she said, a hint of fear in her warm hazel eyes. “And come back to me.”
He wasn’t sure if she’d simply meant for him to come back for the evening, or if there’d been a bigger request in the words. Either way, he’d absolutely return to her. And he’d stay, gratefully, for as long as she’d allow him. “I promise.”
* * *
FRITZ O’LEAR HAD watched as nervous cops and anxious reporters gathered around his apartment building. As the infuriating bomb squad and some FBI goons stopped his third bomb.
He’d watched as the interfering lawmen passed his text message among themselves, trading cautious looks and scanning the crowd for signs of the sender.
He’d watched as they later returned to rummage through his things. To steal from him, and to try to stop him, which they couldn’t.
Fritz saw everything. He’d even cased the ritzy hotel on the edge of town where the team was staying. He’d seen their matching SUVs there last night when he’d headed to a dingy motel outside the city limits, where he could pay with cash and no identification was required.
He hated everything about the feds’ hotel. Too tall. Too showy. Too self-important. Just like all of them. He’d parked across the street, considering.
Should he add one more location to his list of targets? Wouldn’t blowing up the team who’d come to stop him make the perfect finale to his show?
Hiding a bomb in a hotel would be easy. People came and went all the time. And no one paid any attention.
He’d slipped out of his car and walked the perimeter of the hotel, getting a feel for the job. He could take his time exploring the building’s interior tomorrow, when the agents left for work. He couldn’t be sure when they might return tonight. Likely on high alert, and all wound up from their little victory.
The agents probably assumed their win earlier in the day meant they were better than him, but they were wrong, and he’d make sure they knew. The FBI had interfered. Broken into his home. Taken his things. And it was time they were put in their places. Reminded who was in charge.
Then, in a perfect twist of fate, as Fritz had made his way back around the building, the big glass doors to the hotel’s lobby parted, and the agent who’d stopped his bomb walked out. Alone. Fritz had hated him since the moment he’d seen him on television. With his flawless brown skin and that peculiar, cocky strut. This one was all superiority, muscles and attitude. Probably trained to disarm bombs in some high-tech federal facility. A man who’d never known real problems in his life but had made a career out of causing others, like Fritz, trouble. And that just wasn’t okay.
Fritz had waited while the man climbed into an obnoxious government vehicle in the hotel parking lot, and then Fritz had made a run for his car. His old-model Toyota wasn’t new or expensive like the SUV he followed through town, stopping at a bakery and another little shop, but it was too old for GPS tracking and still registered to the previous owner, a friend who’d died in a motorcycle accident. Which made Fritz untraceable. A ghost.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Max arrived at the station early, as planned. He greeted the officers he passed on his way to the conference room, already beginning to recognize many of the morning crew and a few of those finishing the night shift.
He carried his quickly cooling cup of drive-through coffee toward the TCD’s temporary headquarters, then slowed as the door came into view. Light spilled unexpectedly through the small rectangular window, suggesting he wasn’t the first to arrive, despite the time. Most of his team had been awake through the night, sending emails and correspondence as he’d slept. Those agents should have slept until the last minute and be arriving as the meeting began. At least, that had been the norm for the past seven years.
Max reached the door, still guessing who might be inside. Grand Rapids PD had been directed to stay out when a member of the TCD wasn’t present, and the cleaning crew had the same orders. Maybe Rihanna, the only teammate he hadn’t received any overnight messages from, had gotten a jump on her day. Or maybe one of the others simply couldn’t sleep. Sometimes insomnia trumped fatigue when investigators got this close to catching a killer. Adrenaline-laced anticipation could be impossible to ignore.
He swung the door open and stepped inside, unable to make a guess. Regardless, he would have been wrong.
Director Suzuki sat at the front of the table, signing a stack of papers and saying her goodbyes to a vanishing face on the screen where Opaline would soon appear. “Good morning, Max,” she said, barely looking up.
“Director.” He went to the front of the room and set his coffee on the conference table across from her. “I didn’t know you were coming into town. Is everything okay?” He could only hope she wasn’t there to drop a massive figurative bomb in his lap. Something about Fritz O’Lear. A game changer that would set the team back to square one.
“Yes,” she said. “All is well.” She signed another paper, then set her pen aside. Poised and graceful as always, and not a hair out of place, she folded her hands in her lap. Her tailored navy suit was unwrinkled. Her legs crossed. “I’m here to meet with Chief Drees and the commissioner about the progress we’ve made so far. They’re pleased with Rihanna’s work, but you know I like to leave my mark whenever I can.” Her smile was small, warm and mildly defensive.
Max suspected she was there to make sure her team was being treated well and had everything they needed, no holdups, red tape or resistance of any kind.
“How are you, Max?”
“Good. Thanks.”
“You’re early. The morning meeting won’t begin for another forty minutes,” she said, evaluating gaze roaming over his face. “Were you able to sleep?”
“I did,” he said, struck once more with guilt for that truth. “I
thought I’d come in a little early and review the information we have so far. Maybe ferret out a potential next move or find a new lead. Something I could offer at the meeting.”
Alana watched him, assessing, he assumed. She’d no doubt seen the footage of him at the bomb site like everyone else in Michigan, via local news and the internet. And Max was sure she’d spoken with Axel, the supervisory agent, about Max’s state of mind after the fact.
It wasn’t uncommon for Alana to meet with the local officials in a case like this one, but she always did that by phone or video conference. “You don’t normally visit field sites. Is there anything of particular concern here?”
Her lips tipped up at the sides. “Yes. You.”
“Me?” He felt his brows furrow.
“This is a big case for you,” she said.
Max’s muscles tightened. He didn’t like where this was going. “Yes, ma’am.”
“We’ve chased bombers before,” Alana said. “But this case is different. We aren’t here to assist in a manhunt after a major attack. This is the TCD’s first active bomber case. And you haven’t had to face off with an explosive device like you did yesterday since before we met.”
Max dipped his chin, once, in agreement. Tension rolled down his spine, and the phantom pain he sometimes felt, where his leg no longer existed, plucked at him, begging him to reach for it. But he refused. Lacing his fingers on the table where his hands were folded instead.
“You did a miraculous thing,” she said. “Brave. Professional. Effective.” She paused until his eyes met hers. “Heroic.”
“Necessary,” he countered.
Her smile faded and her sharp brown eyes narrowed. “You did a good job out there, Max. I came here to say so, in case you missed the memo.”
He frowned. “You came to Grand Rapids to check up on me?” Max wasn’t sure if that was heartwarming or a sign she thought he needed babysitting.
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