You killed me once. Now I’m going to return the favor. Permanently.

I smirk at the last sentence, my fingers hovering over the delete button. My editor won’t let me take my main character down that dark path on her quest to find the serial killer who’d left her for dead eighteen months before. No matter that she carries scars and suffers nightmares from her ordeal, Jared says, “She’s the white knight, championing causes through her investigations, Talia. Even when the hunt turns personal, she must always stay above the malevolence she’s reporting on.”

He claims my readers will revolt. And the blinking curser taunts me, challenging. Waiting for me to make a decision. I know exactly how the story ends. At least the version I had in mind. Now Jared’s comments from our working lunch yesterday are making me second-guess myself. Should I take my character there? She had to overcome many obstacles to beat the serial killer, so I’m not sure why my fingers are pausing over the keyboard. How much of my own moral code should I impart on my characters? Just because I wouldn’t go there doesn’t mean they couldn’t. “Not if it fits the story and their journeys, right?” I utter under my breath.

My belly suddenly thumps against the desk’s edge. Smiling, I rub the spot where my baby just gave a vote. “You agree? You don’t kick like that often, but when you do, it seems to be with purpose. Just two more weeks and you get to do that in less confined space.” A bit disappointed my husband missed such a strong kick, I slide my gaze to the side door Sebastian had added between our adjacent offices at BLACK Security. So far he’s only felt tiny flutters on my belly. Maybe if I discuss the character issue with him, our little Noodle might do a repeat performance. Standing, I walk over to the door and grab the knob, but pause.

It’s mid-week, yet this morning is the first day this week he’s been back in the office. He has been working crazy hours, splitting his time between BLACK Security and his father’s business, Blake Industries. He’s determined to incorporate the new corporate security segment of BLACK Security into his father’s company before the baby arrives. His office might be sound proofed, but this door isn’t. I hear him talking to another man. The last thing I want to do is interrupt the limited time he has with his employees here.

Just as I lower my hand from the knob, the man says, “I’m not sure why I was shown to your office, Mr. Blake.”

“You’ve stated your business. The answer won’t change,” Sebastian says curtly.

“But, if I could just speak with your wife directly—”

My husband’s tone turns harsh. “It’s time for you to leave.”

I immediately open the door. “Hello,” I say to the dark-haired man in a suit that has seen better days. “I’m Talia Blake. What did you want to see me about, Mr…”

“Pastor Jeff Willows.” He starts to step forward to shake my hand, but lowers his hand to his side when Sebastian steps into place beside me to glower at him.

Taking in Sebastian’s towering, six-four height, the man tugs at his tie. “As I told your husband, I’m here on behalf of a valued volunteer member of our church, Paulo Cantor.”

“I didn’t want him to waste your time,” Sebastian says as he wraps an arm around my waist. “Nor do I want his presence here to compromise the case against Paulo.”

“What exactly are you here for, Pastor Willows?” I say.

His brown eyes drop to my pregnant belly briefly, then he clears his throat. “Paulo hopes that you’ll speak up on his behalf.”

“Absolutely not,” Sebastian barks, his arm pulling me closer to his side. “This conversation is over.”

“Sebastian’s right. I can’t compromise the case. And I don’t understand why Paulo would think I would help him. You do realize the man kidnapped and threatened me, right?”

The Pastor’s pale skin flushes slightly. “He knows he’ll get jail time for his offenses, of which I also believe he deserves. Hopefully he’ll learn from his mistakes, but he doesn’t deserve time for murder. He doesn’t kill. He said he told you that directly.”

“No, he just forces others to kill for him,” I say, folding my arms.

“Well, um…” the man pauses and swallows before blurting out, “He’s hoping you’ll consider it a favor for almost taking his eye out.”

“I was defending myself and my family,” I snap. “What does he want from me anyway?”

“He’s hoping that you’ll help prove that he didn’t intend to kill Mrs. Blake.”

“He put a bomb on our limo that ended up killing my stepmother,” Sebastian cuts in. “You can’t get any deadlier than that.”

The Pastor folds his hands together in a plea. “He swore up and down that he only planted it in the wheel-well. He says someone moved it.”

“I don’t give a damn who did it, him or his partner,” Sebastian says. “They’re both equally guilty as far as I’m concerned. If I see your face around here again, Pastor or not, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing. Is that clear, Mr. Willows?”

When the man shifts his gaze to me, clearly hoping I’ll intervene, Sebastian takes a step forward. The man sighs and steps back. “Please just consider it, Mrs. Blake,” he says, before he walks out the office door with my husband shadowing him.

A few minutes later, Sebastian reenters his office. Raking a hand through his short, dark hair, he unbuttons his suit jacket and grumbles, “That’s some brass-balls coming into my office with some bullshit excuse just to get a guilty man out of a murder wrap.”

“The Pastor’s heart was in the right place. He believes everyone deserves a chance to repent for the sins they have committed. You know a murder charge carries a much harsher sentence,” I say quietly. “What if he’s right? What if—”

“We got the bad guys.” Sebastian moves behind me and pulls me back against his chest. “It has been almost seven months. I hate that this case has dragged out this long, but don’t let Paulo’s desperation make you feel one ounce of guilt or question the evidence. We’ll never know for sure which of the two bastards was responsible, since both Paulo and Detective Mayhew have adamantly blamed each other for Isabel’s death. I’ll sleep just fine if they both end up with murder charges tacked onto their jail time.” Resting his hands on my stomach, he rubs his thumbs slowly back and forth. “How’s Peanut doing?”

I know Sebastian doesn’t want the man’s comments about the bomb to plant themselves into my subconscious, but the seeds have already been sown. “Peanut?” I place my hands over his. “So we’ve moved on to legumes, have we? At some point we’re going to have to discuss real name options for the little one.”

“If you had let the doctor tell us the baby’s sex, I would happily discuss names with you.”

He sounds so disgruntled, I snicker. “Ah, I see. Because I’m torturing you by keeping it a surprise, our unborn child will have lots of different food names between now and the birth?”

His big hands slide from the top of my round belly to the bottom. Locking his fingers together underneath, he fully supports the baby’s weight and exhales a low laugh. “You’re right. The name should reflect reality.”

I love being surrounded by his warmth and masculine smell. Even through his suit, I feel the strength and protection of his muscular arms and for a brief moment I allow myself to fully melt against him. “That’s better.”

“So, Little Watermelon, has your mother finished her book yet? She’s running out of time to get it turned in before you arrive.”

“Little Watermelon? I’m not that big!” I smack his arm, gasping in horror. “I’m a…mini-basketball, tops.”

Sebastian’s hold on me tightens and he brushes his lips against my temple. “You’re perfect just as you are, Little Red. But we’re discussing your deadline, not your waistline.”

A part of me wants to argue that he’d just compared me to the largest fruit out there. He’d better not call the baby Pumpkin next! But the other part doesn’t want to discuss my ever-widening waist, at all. I’ve never been one to worry about weight, but this is in a whole other realm of size adjustment. So instead, I shift back to the subject at hand.

“Jared bumped the book’s deadline during lunch. He said he wanted to give me plenty of time, so technically my book isn’t due until three months after the baby is born. I still plan to have it done before the baby arrives. Actually, though…speaking of my book. That’s the whole reason—”

A knock sounds at Sebastian’s open doorway and Elijah leans against the jamb, his dark eyebrows raised. “I’m sorry to interrupt. I thought we had a meeting. I can come back.”

Sebastian releases me and I wave Elijah in, smiling. “I need to get back to work anyway. Have a good meeting.”

After I close the adjoining door between our offices and sit back down at my desk, I can hear the men’s deep voices, but not what’s being said. I rest my hands on the keyboard, but the words aren’t coming. My gaze strays to my phone where I see I’ve missed a couple of calls.

The first one is a hang up from an unlisted number. My first thought is that it’s for the previous owner of my number, but then for a split second I wonder if it’s my aunt playing games again, until I see that the second call is from my aunt’s phone. I hit the button to play her message.

“I’m sorry I missed you, dear. I know you’ve been keeping yourself busy with work and the upcoming baby shower, but this is a work-related question. I’m considering installing a security camera and would like to know which one your company might recommend. Give me a call when you get a chance. Otherwise, we can discuss it tomorrow night at the party.”

My aunt and I haven’t really spent much time together with all I’ve had going on, but I hope that inviting her to the baby shower shows I’m making an effort to forgive her past transgressions. Shaking my head that she thinks BLACK Security installs equipment, I realize that Elijah would probably know the answer, so I send him a text.

I know you live for this techy stuff. What security camera would you recommend for home use? A high-end and mid-range suggestion would be awesome. Let me know your thoughts.

A text instantly pops up from him.

With the BLACK Security/Blake Industries integration, it’ll probably be the weekend before I can get back with you, but will do.

While I’m typing a thank you text, another message comes through from him.

This is your husband. This better be a research question. No BLACK Security cases until your book is done.

The man just can’t help but be dominant. Snorting, I punch out a response.

Stop being bossy and give Elijah his phone back.

After I text my aunt that I won’t have some suggestions for her tomorrow night but hopefully by the weekend, my mind wanders back to Paulo insisting he’s innocent of Isabel’s murder.

During our investigation of Isabel’s death, I’d asked Elijah to pull all the footage we could collect from the buildings next to and across from the church the night of the bombing, but then Paulo kidnapped me, proving he was behind the threats on the Blake family. Later that night, Paulo and Phil were both arrested. With the guilty parties in jail, subsequent police and trial interviews, work, and getting ready to become a mom the past few months took precedence. I never viewed the videos.

But the Pastor’s presence today makes me question if I should’ve taken the time. It’s entirely possible that Paulo is innocent of murderous intent and Phil really is the culprit. Sebastian may be fine with them both being charged to the full extent for Isabel’s murder, but if there’s any doubt of their guilt, then both men might end up with less jail time. If we can prove for certain who moved that bomb that blew up the limo, then the right man should do the extra time.

I glance at my book in progress, then sigh and save the document before opening the server file Elijah had created with the video files I’d requested. So long as the videos have the right angles, if nothing else, they’ll at least prove that no one else was around the vehicle prior to the explosion. Tight security would’ve noticed the device beforehand, so whoever moved the igniter to the gas flap would’ve had to do so while the cars sat outside in front of the church. Pulling up the first video, I start scrolling through the footage.

Two hours later, I yawn and arch my back as I click the fast forward button for the thousandth time. A blur near the limousine marked with a red bow for Sebastian and me has me pausing and rewinding the video caught by a surveillance camera diagonally across the street from the church. Unfortunately, the video isn’t the best quality, but it’s the closest with the best angle.

Hitting Play, I try to ignore my aching back and the baby’s soft movements as I watch an old man shuffling along, walking his small dog across the street toward the church. Of course the dog poops right next to the car and the old guy has to lean over to pick it up with a baggie.

I write down the timestamp on the video, then fast forward through to the point the explosion happens. My heart twisting at the visual reminder of the tragedy, I push back from my desk, then carry my laptop to the door and knock.

“It’s open,” Sebastian says, sounding distracted.

As I walk over to his desk, he straightens the paperwork on his desk and stands. “You never have to knock, Talia. You’re the one who insisted on the door.”

“You need your privacy for business.” I slow my steps as he slips the papers into a folder, then picks up his briefcase. “You’re leaving?”

“Gavin asked me to attend a meeting.” He glances at the laptop in my hand. “Did you need something?”

The last few weeks Sebastian has been putting in extra long hours and we’ve barely seen each other. I’ve been too tired to stay up late, and when I try to rise early, he’s already up and heading into Blake Industries. Not only have we not worked on a case together since his project with his father’s company started, but I’ve been feeling less attractive lately. Even though my belly hasn’t expanded at the same rate as my boobs, I couldn’t help but wonder if Sebastian missed his wife’s sexy body. I’d really hoped we could at least have lunch together to try to reconnect, but I suppress my disappointment and set my laptop down on his desk. “This will only take a minute.” Queuing up the video, I hit Play and let it run, cutting it off right before the explosion. “As you can see, other than Isabel and the driver, the man and his dog are the only ones who go near the vehicle prior to the explosion.”

Sebastian’s jaw muscle jumps. “I see you let the Pastor get to you.” When I purse my lips, he gestures to the screen. “That’s clearly an old man walking his dog. Do you think he planned for it to poop where it did too?”

It’s hard not to bristle at his comment, but I know he’s under a lot of pressure right now, so I force a reasoned response. “The camera’s angle makes it difficult to tell, but he seemed to be shuffling the dog along.”

“I would push my pet along too if he started to do his business in the middle of a busy street. The dog barely made it to the opposite sidewalk before he let loose.”

“You really don’t think this is significant?” I say, blinking at him. “Yes, the man’s body blocks some of his actions and with that Fedora we never see his face, but you can clearly see that he touches the limo near the gas flap cover as he bends over next to the wheel-well to pick up the dog’s droppings. This sheds some light on Paulo’s claim that someone else had access and could’ve moved the device.”

“That’s a bit of a stretch.”

I can tell his mind is on business-related matters, and he doesn’t want to give Paulo any space in his head, but I quickly rewind the video and play it again. “Do you see how the man’s hand touching the car as he bends over looks like he might be wearing gloves? Who does that in the summer?”

Sebastian shrugs. “Back in my old neighborhood, we had an elderly neighbor who wore long pants and a scarf all summer long.” Setting his briefcase on his desk, he slips the folder and his laptop inside and snaps it shut. “If I knew my dog might have some digestive issues on its walk, I’d probably wear gloves too.”

“I’m serious,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“Don’t let Paulo win.” His blue gaze holds mine for a second, his tone softening. “You started to say something about your book earlier. Have you finished that last chapter yet?”

Closing my laptop, I set it on his desk and shake my head. “Not quite. It’ll come to me.”

He nods and taps out a text on his phone, then hooks my chin with his thumb, tilting it up to press his lips to mine. “Den and Theo will coordinate from this office. The other BLACK Security guys will head over for group meetings at Blake Industries for the rest of this week.”

“Theo doesn’t need to stay. He should be included in the other meetings too.”

“He stays.” Sebastian says tersely as he tucks his phone in his suit pocket.

I bite my lip to prolong the pleasant tingle of his kiss, while eyeing him with suspicion. “You just poked tons of holes in my video evidence, so why the overkill protection?”

“It’s never overkill to protect what’s most precious to me. I think you should take advantage of this quiet lull this week to finish your book. Before you know it, Tater-Tot will be here.”

“We’re back to small food names, are we?” I say lightly.

“I want to live to see my child’s birth.”

I smirk, loving his wit. “I knew you were a smart man.”

“I’m a quick learner.” Flashing a smile, he lifts his briefcase and folds his free hand over my belly as he steals another kiss. “See you two tonight.”

Smiling after his confident stride as he walks out, I already miss the electricity of our brief exchange and wish we’d had more time to banter. Despite the fact he swiss-cheesed the hell out of my video lead, my gut is telling me that there’s something to that old man and his poop-prone dog. But there’s no point arguing over evidence that would require a huge leap of faith. I need proof.

I move behind my husband’s desk and slide into his chair, turning my laptop around. I know I should be working on my book, but I can’t be creative while my brain is stuck on this case. Opening my laptop, I click on the server where we store scanned case files, then start reading through the documents I’d scoured months ago.

After an hour of staring at crime scene photos and lab analysis with nothing helpful jumping out at me, the baby begins to move around a lot, making me feel a bit light headed. I pat my stomach. “Hungry, little one?” Rolling the chair back, I stand and arch my back. “Hmmm, maybe your dad is too.”

* * *

“You seem right at home in this role,” I say from the doorway of Mina’s office at Blake Industries. Mina turns from staring at a few different marketing slogans tacked on her wall.

Grinning, she approaches and gives me a hug. “Hey, Talia! Aren’t you the prettiest mother-to-be. Where’s Den?” she asks, peering around me. “Did you give him a break while you’re here?”

“So to speak. Den’s here. He’s having lunch with a colleague who took over his old job guarding your father.”

“Ah, I see.” Brown eyes alight with excitement, Mina pushes her long blonde hair over her shoulder and bends to speak toward my belly. “Hello in there, my little niece.”

“We don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl yet,” I remind her as she straightens.

“Just wishful thinking,” she says, waving. “I would love for Josi to have a girl cousin close to her age. Not only could they share clothes and toys, but I’ll bet they’d be inseparable. So, are you ready for the party in your baby’s honor tomorrow night?”

I laugh that the baby chose now to turn around inside me. “Um, I’d say little-Blake-to-be must’ve heard you. That felt like a somersault.”

Mina grins and puts her hand on my belly. “Darn, she’s not moving for me now.” Dropping her hand, she sighs her disappointment. “But boy I remember when Josi did those. Felt like she was doing karate in there. You look wonderful. I love your dress. Only a redhead could rock that camel color so well. How are you feeling?”

“Thanks, I’m finally getting around to wearing some maternity pieces I bought a few weeks ago.” In truth, I’d gone home to change for my lunch date with my husband. I hoped he would enjoy the surprise and approve of my sleeker look. “My hair might be done up in a French twist, but I feel like I move like a zombie.” I say, giving a half-smile.

“It’s the relaxin loosening your body up.” Mina nods sagely. “Means you’re getting ready.”

“If my joints get any looser, I might start losing body parts soon.”

Mina’s eyes sparkle with amusement. “Don’t worry. I’ll just stick ‘em back on for you like Mrs. Potato Head. I’m so excited about the baby shower tomorrow and relieved that Cass was able to have it at Calder’s house. You know I would’ve offered my place, but it’s a disaster with Josi’s stuff everywhere.” Taking my hand, she starts to tug me into her office. “Come in and chat for a bit.”

I shake my head and lift the deli bag in my other hand. “I can’t. I brought Sebastian lunch, but I don’t know which office he’s in. Can you tell me?”

“Oh, Seb’s probably on the fourth floor with the IT guys. I know he’s been spending a lot more time with that team lately. Do you want me to take you there?”

“No, I’ll find him. See you tomorrow night,” I say, hugging Sebastian’s little sister once more.

I step off the elevator onto the fourth floor and gaze left and right, but have no clue which direction to start looking for my husband. Spying the middle-aged administrative assistant sitting outside her boss’s office, I walk up to the serious-faced woman with a platinum blonde pixie haircut. “Excuse me, can you tell me where Sebastian Blake is?”

The woman grins widely, her gaze straying to my belly. “You must be Talia. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Thea. When are you due?”

“Yes, I’m Talia,” I say, smiling. “It’s nice to meet you too. I’m due in two weeks so…” I lift the bag of food up. “I have to grab alone time with my husband while I can.”

“He has been working some long hours.” Glancing toward the hallway to my right, she continues, “Go down the hall and then make a left. There’s a conference room at the end of that hall. I blocked it off for a two-hour group meeting earlier today.”

“Oh…” I bite my lip. “Did he order lunch for the meeting?”

She quickly shakes her head. “Not that I know of. The other team members went out to lunch before the meeting. I just got back from lunch myself and was going to check and see if Mr. Blake wanted me to order food for him. The meeting should be wrapping up very soon if it hasn’t already.”

“Perfect timing then. Thanks, Thea,” I say, before turning down the hall on the right.

Once I turn left and then start toward the conference room straight at the end of the hall, I see my husband eating from a takeout carton with chopsticks. My steps slow as I watch a slender hand slide something across the table toward him, feminine laughter joining in. “Go on, Seb. Tell me your fortune.”

Seb? I come to a halt. As far as I know, the only person who calls Sebastian that name is Mina. At that moment, the woman leans forward and a shapely leg, long dark hair, and her profile come into view.

Regan. One of Mina’s oldest friends and also the woman my husband had a purely sexual relationship with in the past before we got together. Even Mina didn’t know about their hook up.

I can tell by the fact they’re sitting at the end of the table near the door that they’re alone in the conference room. This knowledge only fuels the mixture of emotions flying through me. I start to step forward, but my foot wobbles slightly in the high heel. I catch myself against the wall, a sobering reminder that I’m not the svelte, sure-footed woman my brain still thinks I am. The last thing I want to do is stumble ungracefully as I enter the room and give that bitchy twig flirting with my husband something to smirk at.

Turning around, I walk back down the hall. Once I reach Thea’s desk, I keep my expression composed. “Do you have a piece of paper and a pen?”

“Sure thing. Guess their meeting is still going on?” she says as she pulls the cool floating pen in the shape of a dart from its bulls-eye “holder” at the front of her desk, then slides the pen and a piece of paper toward me.

Taking the pen, I try to think of something to say.

I had no clue Regan worked here…or that she’s clearly still pursuing Sebastian. Throwing this dart pen at her perfect, tight ass seems like a better use of it. Then again, she’d probably enjoy getting tagged in the tail. And ask for more. Ugh, don’t go there, Talia.

I grip the pen tighter and stare at the paper. No words come that won’t make me sound insecure. But I trust my instincts over feelings of insecurity and my instincts are roaring.

Setting the pen on the blank sheet of paper, I pull my sandwich out and then roll the bag closed around Sebastian’s lunch.

“Would you like me to give that to Mr. Blake for you?” Thea says, holding her hand out for the bag.

“No, that’s okay,” I say right before I drop the bag into the trash next to her desk.

As Thea gapes, her gaze dropping to the trashcan, I try to set the pen back into its holder, then sigh my frustration that I can’t get it to “float” like it was before.

“This thing is finicky.” Smiling apologetically, she takes it from me. “You have to set the pen’s distance to the magnet just right. If it touches the surrounding plastic, it doesn’t stick.”

Of course she gets it on the first try, but Thea’s comment about metal and plastic, magnets sticking or not, shifts my thoughts from Regan and Sebastian, sparking an idea that I hadn’t considered. With a new theory pinging in my head, pushing the need to revisit the bombing’s crime scene evidence, I welcome the distraction. Shoving the fantasy of stabbing Regan in the ass out of my head, I walk over to the elevator and push the button. Sebastian and I need to talk, but until then, work awaits.

As the doors woosh open, I hold them and glance back at Thea, welcoming the calm focus that has settled over me. “I need to get back to work. Please don’t tell Sebastian that I came by. He’ll be disappointed that he missed me.”

Nodding my thanks, I head off to prove that my husband needs to trust my instincts as if they were his own.