The choice now was: split up or stay together. Still moving, I scoped out the park and our target’s path, and made my decision. I signaled the plan. There was no reason why I couldn’t talk-we were far enough away that the man wouldn’t overhear-but when I switched to hunt mode, my brain switched to nonverbal.

Clay nodded, and we broke into a slow jog. In the dark, our outfits looked sufficiently joggerlike to get away with that. The biggest danger we faced was alerting our target, but if he hadn’t looked over his shoulder yet, he probably wasn’t going to. He had other things on his mind. As for what…well, I had my suspicions, but this wasn’t the time to consider them.

We ran along the gauntlet of trees, old-fashioned benches and lampposts that lined the main path. As we neared the conservatory, we slowed, and I motioned Clay into the shadows with me. The man had stopped in front of the historic site marker. His lips moved as he read it, brows furrowing in confusion.

I glanced at Clay. He stood motionless, tensed and waiting, blue eyes glittering as he watched his prey. Without looking away from the man, he leaned sideways toward me, his hand brushing my hip, lips curving. Our eyes met. He grinned, and I could read that grin as clearly as if he’d spoken. Even better than a city run, huh? I grinned back.

The man finished reading the plaque and walked to the window. As he stared at the huge tropical trees inside, I nodded and Clay slipped away, looping around to the other side. I crept to the stairs. I made it halfway up before the man turned. He saw me. I kept climbing, gaze fixed on a spot to his side, just another nighttime visitor, a pregnant woman, nonthreatening and-

He bolted.

He ran for the north staircase. I raced up mine as Clay flew from the south. A look my way. I waved him back and he nodded, wheeling to head around the building and cut the man off. While I scrambled down the north steps, the man raced between the garden beds and toward the greenhouse. I ran after him. I rounded the corner and nearly bowled over two police officers.

A mental “Oh, shit!” Then I checked my pace to a jog, flashed a tight smile and prayed they wouldn’t try to stop me. I made it three strides.

“Miss!”

Play dumb. No, deaf. Just keep-

“Miss!”

A hand touched my arm as one of the officers ran up behind me. Couldn’t ignore that.

I forced myself to stop, turn and smile, trying hard not to bare my teeth. My heart pounded, adrenaline racing, reminding me that my prey was getting away.

“Are you all right?” the first officer, a beefy graying man, asked.

“Sure, I was just-” I stopped before I said “jogging.” My outfit might pass from a distance, but not this close. I caught sight of a terrier across the park, and remembered this was an off-leash area.

“Walking my dog,” I said. “Chasing him, actually. He took off on me and-”

“It looked like someone was chasingyou.”

“Me?”

“There was a man running behind you. We noticed from the other side of-”

“There you are,” said a voice to my right.

Jeremy walked out from the shadows. “I caught the dog. He’s back at the car now. Sorry for the inconvenience, officers.” A small smile. “It seems he’s not ready for off-leash walks quite yet.”

“There was a man following your-”

“Wife,” Jeremy said, his arm going around my waist. His face gathered with concern. “A man was following her?”

“A blond man.”

Jeremy looked at me. “Did you notice…?”

“No, but I was looking for the dog.”

Oh, come on! Problem solved, officers. Dog’s found, helpless pregnant lady safe with her husband. Now move on.

Clay was out there, chasing someone, thinking I was there to back him up. It took everything I had to keep from blurting “Thanks, officers,” and running after him.

Jeremy did the right thing, trying quickly but patiently to bring the encounter to a close. He confessed to the officer that maybe these nighttime dog walks weren’t such a wise idea, but I’d been having trouble sleeping lately, with the baby kicking and all…

As he handled it, I struggled to hold myself still. Had Clay caught the man? Was he holding him, waiting for us? Had something gone wrong? Was he hurt, while we were stalled, parked out of sight behind this greenhouse-

“Ready to go, hon?”

I started out of my thoughts. Jeremy smiled down at me.

“Getting tired finally, I see.”

He turned back to the officers, thanked them again, then led me away. I counted ten steps, then started to look over my shoulder.

“Not yet,” Jeremy whispered.

“But Clay-”

“I know.”

“But-”

“I know.”

I bit back a growl and counted off ten more steps.

“No,” Jeremy said, before I even started to turn.

“But-”

“He lost him.”

“How-?”

“Look right. Along the sidewalk.”

There was Clay, walking along the north sidewalk on Gerrard, his path set to intersect with ours. Jeremy gestured-the slightest flutter of his right hand-and Clay paused, then turned and walked across the road. We crossed at the lights, and found Clay around the corner, hands jammed in his pockets, eyes seething.

“Lost him,” he said.

“I got waylaid by-”

“The cops. I saw.”

He pulled his hands from his pockets and stepped toward me, hand brushing mine, reassuring me that he didn’t blame me, wasn’t angry about that. The reassurance was nice, but I knew what he was upset about. The same thing I was: a failed hunt.