If he looked over his shoulder, he’d see Sophia sitting up to the table, practicing her speech on Roman. As it was he could hear her, combatting all the things her father’s opponent had claimed.
Blayze didn’t dare speak it aloud yet, but he wanted to put his foot down about the upcoming speech. The one he’d promised to not interfere with back on day one. He’d have to be sneaky about it, talk to her father and Roman and get them on board, something he’d been contemplating from the moment she’d started rehearsing her speech that morning. Eight hours later and Blayze was still chomping at the bit.
A buzz came to his phone, filling his mind with ideas of what new tidbit awaited them. Part of Blayze hoped it was another threat. Something over the top. Something that made Sophia want to stay under cover until they found this guy. Yet, even as he thought it, a rash of guilt struck him.Selfish.That’s what he was. No better than Emily when she’d tried to get him to stay behind. But who could blame her? More than any time in his life he understood where the woman was coming from.
Blayze shook off the thought and looked down at the phone in his hand.Let’s see what we’ve got.Just one text from Zane. Not only was Zane Sutton’s lead investigator, he’d served with him in the Navy SEALs. Deskwork wasn’t at the top of his list, but the guy could track details down like a bloodhound.
Bad news. Charles Locklear has been dead for over three years. He hung himself in prison the night he arrived. My guy didn’t spot it at first since the man’s got the same name as his father who’s still living. Don’t give me crap for it —I’ve been on another job. Hate to say back to the drawing board, but…
A curse fell from his lips. Blayze wanted to take the phone, crush it against the log railing, and watch it shatter into a million tiny pieces. Instead, he gave a nearby cooler a good hard kick. The thing tumbled over the porch with a loud clatter before slamming into a stack of chopped logs.
“What’s going on out there?” Roman appeared at the doorway, shock on his face as he drew his gun.
“Nothing,” Blayze mumbled, heading back to the house. “I just… got some crummy news.”
Roman stepped aside, allowing Blayze to enter first as he eyed the upturned cooler.
Sophia had come to a stand, a stack of papers resting before her on the table. “What’s wrong?”
Blayze handed over the phone, too frustrated to even speak it. Roman hurried over to Sophia’s side while she read it aloud. “…has been dead forthreeyears?” she mumbled through the rest, shaking her head in frustration. “I really felt like it was him.”
She pressed the phone back into his hand, a foreign look of hopelessness falling over her face. “I just want to know who we’re dealing with,” she said.
“Me too,” Blayze assured, walking around the table. Inwardly, he was hoping to steal away for some quality time with the punching bag downstairs. He had more steam to blow off than he knew what to do with. “I hate to ask this…” he dared himself to say, but Sophia was quick to catch on.
“Nope,” she blurted. “I’m not even considering it, Blayze, so you can just stop it right there.”
Another curse tore from his lips, this one not as quiet as the first. “Sophia, I’m trying to keep you alive here.”
“AndI’mtrying to do something important!” She shoved her chair back, eyes flaring. “You didn’t like it when your ex-girlfriend tried to stop you from going overseas, did you?”
They stayed in a heated lock, the statement bringing something very real to the table. Something they hadn’t spoken about since the other night. But her comparison to his past romantic relationship assured him that those kisses meant more to her than just a fling to curb the loneliness. He and Sophia had something much deeper, and they both knew it.
He glanced at Roman. “Can I get a little help here?”
“Don’t look to him on this one.Herespects me. He knows that this matters. The way your service for our country matters. This ismyway of serving. Of exercising my freedom to making this country an even better place.” Light glistened in her brown eyes as they filled with tears, but still she kept them fixed on him.
Blayze remained frozen under her gaze, his heart thundering as she aimed a pointed finger at him, her bottom lip quivering. “If you talk to my father behind my back and try to take this from me…” She shook her head, turned to Roman, and then darted toward the open French doors.
Roman followed after her. “I’ve got this.”
Blayze checked through the blinds to see that he’d caught up with her, rage and fear clashing within him like angry ring horned rams. If he had that hostile in the room with him right then, Blayze couldn’t assure he’d do his duty of turning him over to the authorities. He’d likely beat the guy to death instead. A thought that pained him even more.
In two days he and Roman would have to take Sophia back to the city, walk her up to a bomb-ridden pulpit and let her leave her mark on the world. He barreled down the stairs, made his way to the punching bag after all, and went off on it. One hit after the next.
He was getting out of control, like his father. Tempted to give in to his passions. Heck, it had taken everything in him to stop what he’d started with Sophia by the kitchen sink the other day. He’d been almost positive—for just a moment—that Sophia would suggest they take things into the bedroom. If she had, Blayze would’ve likely done that very thing. His urges were becoming harder to resist, and the temptation to get Mr. Vasco on his side about the upcoming speech was pushing him to new limits.
But he’d resist. Hehadto. He respected Sophia too much to do otherwise. The resolution caused his fists to tighten as he pounded the bag.
It was no secret that Sophia would show up at this final event. Her father had made prior arrangements, asked the event planner to keep her name off the agenda so others wouldn’t know she’d be there. Buthewould likely know. The one who’d been threatening her since her father announced his second candidacy.
That thought planted something in his mind. A seed so sliver-small, he couldn’t exactly grasp onto it. But as he pounded the hefty, leather-coated bag, one angry fist after the next, Blayze sensed another piece of the puzzle starting to surface.
Chapter 17
Sophia gripped onto the wooden spoon in her fist, digging it into the batter while hugging the bowl.
“This is a pretty nice gesture,” Roman said, hovered over a mug of coffee.
