Blayze shook his head as he thumbed through the information Sutton passed onto him late last night. Digital pictures and/or descriptions of the packages Sophia had received. Blayze applauded Mr. Vasco for his efforts to snuff the coward out early. Most people didn’t have the resources, financially, anyway. Turned out Nicolas Vasco and his daughter owned considerable real estate throughout California. With the management company they’d put in place, Sophia and her father put in minimal hours with maximum returns.

In the pale morning light, a mug of black coffee before him, Blayze scrutinized the contents of the first package. It had shown up on her doorstep. Wrapped in shiny white paper, the small box held a giant, pink cupcake with fluffy frosting over an inch high. She hadn’t dared eat it, not knowing whom it was from, but while inspecting the baked good Sophia had noticed a motel keycard tucked into the center.

She had played it off as a joke, figuring someone was toying with her. Happy Birthday—Have a night’s stay at the Maraddo, the most rundown motel in all of San Bernardino.

The second hadn’t been as easy to ignore. The bright blue package contained a set of handcuffs with a note: Let’s play a game. Mind if I bring my gun?

The District Attorney had made a name for himself among the people of San Bernardino, and he wasn’t short on support, but Vasco was gunning for his second run in the DA’s office and—after seeking advice from a trusted legal board—thought it best to keep things hidden from the press for a time. Media attention often gave the offender an appetite for the spotlight. Something they wanted to avoid.

Mind if I bring my gun… “Mind if I bring my fist?” Blayze grumbled. He despised cowards. He’d dealt with all types of terrorists throughout his deployment, but he had a particular distaste for the cowardly ways of those who kept themselves hidden in the shadows, tormenting their victims before they even struck.

The last package she’d received was even more chilling. The note attached said the hostile was taking credit for her mother’s accident, and that he was ready to wreak more deadly havoc. Obviously, Sophia was the target this time, which meant someone either wanted Nicolas Vasco to suffer, or he wanted him to lose the campaign. The former seemed most likely; there were all sorts of ways to mess up someone’s campaign.

A buzz sounded at his phone—a number he didn’t recognize.

He lifted the small device to his ear. “Brockton, here.”

“Hi, this is Sophia Vasco,” came that alluring accent on the other end of the line. Blayze straightened up, flattening a hand on his paperwork, and tried to calm his racing-for-no good-reason heart.

“Hey,” he blurted. “How are you?”

“Fine. Hope you don’t mind that I called you so early.”

He glanced at his watch, already knowing it was just past 6:00 a.m. “No problem.”

“Listen, I called you directly because I don’t think Sutton Smith or my father should be in charge of how things go between you and I.”

“I agree,” Blayze said with a nod.

“I’m not a child, after all.”

Blayze remained quiet after that one; of course, she wasn’t a child.

“Anyway, I want to establish something.”

“Okay.”

It was hard to picture the woman he’d seen at the funeral. Sure, the accent was the same, but this was a whole new approach. No soft words of sympathy. She was all about business, and she wanted to be heard.

“Now,” she continued, “I only agreed to accept protection for the remainder of this campaign, which runs through the rest of October and wraps up November 5^th. So that’s approximately two-and-a-half weeks.

“I’ll be traveling throughout the county, working long and late hours, and I’ll be separated from the majority of the campaign team in the process.”

Blayze kept quiet, only nodded in encouragement, though she couldn’t actually see it.

“We’ll stay the first night in my home. I have the guest room ready for you. From there we’ll stay in hotels, a penthouse—same kitchen and living space—with our own bedrooms.”

“Sounds good.”

“And whatever happens,” she said, voice stern. “I don’t want anything hidden from me. If you, Roman, or my father come across anything, I want to be notified as soon as possible, okay?”

He grinned, unleashing his calm, negotiator voice. “Absolutely. I’d never dream of holding something of relevance from you.”

“And one last thing. I don’t like missing events. If at all possible, I’d like to attend every speaking engagement on the schedule, and there are a lot.”

“Okay,” he encouraged, sensing a greater point ahead.

“The thing is, the packages have been coming every two weeks. And if the pattern continues, I’ll be getting one this Friday.”

“That’s right.” This wasn’t news to Blayze; he had an entire map sketched out of what they might expect in the weeks ahead.

“’Course, who knows where they’d deliver it since I’ll be traveling... Anyway,” she said sharply. “If I do get one on Thursday, it might be a whopper. And I might even want to back down, which I can’t imagine happening. But even if I step away from a few of them, there’s one event—well, there are kind of two—but there’s at least one that I absolutely refuse to miss, and that’s the evening before the voting booths open, November 4th. It’s our last chance to really raise awareness among voters who don’t think about it until it nears. And since this isn’t a presidential year, the local networks will be broadcasting live.”

Since talking to Sutton earlier, Blayze had looked into the role of a district attorney. It was no wonder people were voted in rather than assigned. Turned out, DAs held a whole lot of power in the judicial system.

“Okay, so you don’t want to miss any of the engagements,” Blayze repeated, “but if something comes up and we have to make cuts, the event on November 4^th is off the table.”

“No, it’s on the table.”

Blayze smiled, wondering if she were just being coy. “Removing it off the table is off the table then.”

She chuckled, the sound warming his insides in a blink. “That’s correct.” Even those two short words sounded so uniquely… like her; the accent suited her and—if he were honest—toyed with him in a way he couldn’t grasp.

The line stayed quiet for a blink. And though he wasn’t in the same room as Ms. Vasco, Blayze could nearly feel the shift in her energy. Similar to that of a freshly deflated balloon. Tension drained. Defenses down. Calm taking over.

“Ms. Vasco,” he said.

“Yes?”

“Thank you for making yourself clear.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I think we’re going to get along great.” Hope might have been a more accurate word, but he needed to keep his best foot forward.

“I’m sure we will,” she said.

“Oh, and aren’t you forgetting something?” Blayze regretted asking the second it slipped out of his lips.

“Uh… not that I can think of,” she said.

He shrugged. Why did he suddenly feel like teasing her? “Just thought you might throw out another hooyah cheer. You’re pretty good at that.” He smiled, enjoying the warmth stirring in his belly as he awaited her response.

“Well, aren’t you turning into a lengua largo.”

His brow scrunched. “A what?”

“Lengua largo, long tongue. It’s like a Chatty Kathy, you know?”

No one had accused him of that before.

“See you tomorrow, Blayze.” A click sounded.

Blayze hit the end call button and sank back into his chair. Had she called him by his first name before? He didn’t think so. She definitely hadn’t said it in that snide, playful tone, that was sure. “A lengua largo?” He shook his head as a vision of the intriguing woman came to mind. Kind brown eyes on that flawless face. Blayze might have fought overseas, but she carried herself like a woman armed for an entirely different war. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t find it intimidating.

What had Cannon said about her at the club that night? “…she seems like a very lovely lady.” The man always spoke like a gentleman. And what he’d said was true— Sophia Vasco seemed like the perfect woman, at a glance anyway. The type who might, unlike Emily, actually support a man when he went overseas. A thought that lit sparks low in his belly. Sparks that hadn’t been there for quite some time.

Still, no need to think about her in such a way. In just a few hours, Blayze’s job would begin. He might need to stay physically close in order to protect her, but if he knew what was good for him, Blayze would keep his affections at a safe distance.