by Rebecca Deel
“A little. I need comfort food.”
He thought a minute. “Baked potato sound good?”
“Perfect.”
“I’ll order room service while you change into comfortable clothes.”
She returned to the living room a few minutes later to find Brent on the couch, channel surfing. Jon had taken up a post at the window and Eli was missing. “Where’s Eli?”
“Sleeping. He’ll take over the watch at midnight and Jon will sleep.”
“Food will be here in half an hour,” Jon said.
She dropped down beside Brent. “What are we watching?” Her eyes narrowed. “You better not tell me it’s another cowboy movie.”
He laughed. “Not right now. What are you in the mood for?”
“Sahara.”
With an amused look, he searched through the listings and found the movie. Before she knew it, the food arrived. Once she’d eaten the potato Brent ordered for her, she settled deeper into the couch, her head propped against his shoulder.
She woke to the sound of her cell phone signaling an incoming text message. Rowan pulled her phone from her pocket and swiped the screen. Her blood ran cold at the message. Bring the records to the funeral. No cops or the kid dies.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Brent fastened the watch around Rowan’s wrist. With a plain black band and unremarkable numbers, the timepiece didn’t look special. That was the point. His thumb brushed her sensitive skin. “Don’t take this off for any reason, baby.”
“I already have a watch, Brent.”
“This one has a tracker inside so we can ping your location. If we’re separated, I want to be able to find you quickly.” Probably overkill, but he wasn’t taking chances with the woman he loved. Brent had a bad feeling about this and he didn’t intend to lose Rowan to an oversight on his part.
“You’re worried.”
Perceptive woman. “Yeah, I am. This arrangement to bring the records to the funeral doesn’t feel right. That’s why I’m hedging my bets.” Brent was positive the meeting was a trap. Didn’t know any kidnappers who wanted to leave a hostage alive to testify against them, even one as young as Alexa.
“You’ll have several operatives in and around the funeral home. I don’t see how the kidnappers could touch me.”
“Unexpected things happen. Even my best laid plans could go awry.” He threaded his fingers through hers. “That’s why you won’t have the records with you.”
“But they’ll kill Alexa if I don’t hand them over.”
“What motive would you have for producing the records if they kill Alexa? None. She’s leverage to make you cooperate. They want the records and you want Alexa. Until they get what they want, they’ll keep her alive.”
Rowan was silent a moment, her gaze searching his face. “And after?”
He didn’t want to tell her the truth, refused to lie to her. She deserved the truth no matter how painful. “They’ll try to kill both of you. We won’t allow that to happen. I need you to trust me, baby.”
She gave a short nod. “Who will have the records, then?”
“I will.” He brushed her cheek with his thumb. “If the kidnappers want them, they deal with me. If something goes wrong, know that I will turn the world upside down to find you and Alexa. I’ll never give up until you’re back in my arms.”
Rowan kissed him. “I believe you. More important, I believe in you and your people. If anyone can save us, it’s you.”
He stared, warmth blooming around his heart. How did she do that? A few simple words meant everything to him. At a time when her life was in turmoil and the opportunity to bond with her minimal, Rowan had faith in him. “Time to go.”
Brent wanted to hide her where Carstairs and the kidnappers would never find her. His lips curved. Suggesting the idea wouldn’t be in the best interest of Brent’s continued health. Rowan was fiercely protective of her niece. The only solution was increasing her protection without isolating her. To do otherwise could cost him the woman he loved.
By the time they arrived at the funeral home, the chapel was full. Heather had a handful of people paying respects to her. Only a handful of Maxwell’s employees showed up. Guess the businessman hadn’t won the loyalty of his workers. Not a surprise if he treated his employees with the disdain he’d shown to his wife and daughter. Many of Rowan’s friends and customers were there to support her. Their presence said volumes about Rowan’s ability to connect with people and her genuine interest in them.
Throughout the service, Brent kept an eye on the doors, windows, and those in the audience, as did his operatives. Through his ear piece, he tracked security check-ins. So far, no sign of Carstairs or the kidnappers. Brent prayed they stayed away. Scores of people would die if someone attacked this soft target.
Thankfully, the service progressed without incident. Some tears, much laughter as Rowan and two others shared memories of the Maxwells. At the conclusion of the service, attendees filed past Rowan and offered words of condolence and many hugs. Finally, they went to their cars for the burial procession, leaving Rowan, Brent, and the Fortress operatives.
The funeral director approached. “We’re ready to proceed to the cemetery, Ms. Scott.”
Her hand clasped in his, Brent walked with Rowan to the SUV. In the back seat, he gathered her into his arms, grateful she had a few minutes to regroup before saying a final goodbye to her sister.
With his cheek pressed to the top of her head, he held her in silence. By gradual degrees, she softened against him as her muscles loosened.
“Thank you for being with me today,” she whispered.
“I wish I could do more, baby.” He lifted their entwined hands and kissed her knuckles.
When they arrived at the cemetery, Eli parked a short distance away from the hearses.
“One more time, sweetheart,” Brent murmured.
“Let’s get this over with before I lose my courage.”
“You amaze me, Rowan Scott. I’ve never known any woman as strong as you.” Only a strong woman would tolerate his constant on-call status, the danger, the secrecy. He believed Rowan was the right woman for him.
“Wait until there aren’t prying eyes watching. I think I’m due for a meltdown.”
“I’ll be here when you face the storm, love.”
She raised her head, unasked questions in her gaze. Brent needed to guard his words. Otherwise, he’d scare off the woman of his dreams by telling Rowan he loved her too soon.
He helped Rowan from the vehicle. She gripped his hand as the caskets were unloaded and carried over the hilly terrain to the grave site. Once Rowan’s friends gathered, the minister gave a few last words of comfort and led in prayer. And then the service was over.
Slowly the mourners returned to their vehicles and drove away, leaving Rowan to stand beside her sister’s casket. Brent’s operatives moved away to give Rowan privacy.
Brent wrapped his arms around Rowan while scanning the area. His skin crawled, a sure sign they were under surveillance. He glanced at Jon who gave a slight nod. He felt the eyes on them as well.
He took another minute to survey their surroundings. A slight movement to his right in the tree line caught his attention. The figure was dressed in black and mostly hidden behind a stand of trees. The figure must have noticed Brent’s attention was focused that direction because he or she pulled back into the trees and vanished from sight.
The crawling sensation persisted. More than one observer, then. “Jon, at least one in the trees on the right,” he murmured.
“Saw him. There’s another on the left behind the big stone angel. Three more behind us.”
“That we can see,” Eli muttered.
Brent turned Rowan more fully into his arms and bent so his mouth was beside her ear. “Baby, I don’t want to rush you, but we need to leave.”
“Why?” Her voice sounded thick.
Oh, man. She was crying. Rowan’s distress gutted him. “We’re under surveill
ance. You’re not safe here.”
With a shuddering breath, she nodded and stepped away from the shelter of his arms. Rowan laid her hand on Heather’s casket and murmured, “I’ll find Alexa and bring her home. She’ll never doubt I love her. I’ll do my best to raise her as you would have wanted.”
Her cell phone chimed. She checked the screen, tilting her phone so he could read the message.
A ball of ice formed in Brent’s gut. The kidnappers wanted Rowan to come alone to the Wilson mausoleum on the west side of the cemetery with the records. “I go with you or no deal.”
“They won’t like that,” Rowan said as she sent the message.
“If they want the information, they’ll cooperate.”
Seconds later, a blistering response came. Rowan flinched. “Definitely not happy.”
“But they agreed,” Brent pointed out. “I won’t let you do this alone.”
“You said things never go according to plan.”
“They don’t. We lay plans and adjust on the fly.” He slid one arm around Rowan and urged her toward the meeting place.
“I assume you plan missions.”
He snorted. “We have multiple plans for every mission. When Plan A fails, you go to Plan B, then C, D, and so on.”
Jon and Eli started to fall into step with them. Brent held up his hand. “The kidnappers contacted Rowan and want to meet her on the west side of the cemetery with Maxwell’s records. Circle around behind these clowns. If everything goes south, we need one alive.”
“Copy that,” Eli murmured. He and Jon split up and moved in opposite directions away from the rendezvous site.
“Won’t they see Eli and Jon coming?” Rowan whispered as they resumed their journey. “There’s still plenty of sunlight.”
“Lots of cover for them.”
The closer they came to the meeting place, the tighter she gripped his hand. Brent located the right mausoleum. He scanned the area, scowled. Too many places for an opponent to hide. He nudged Rowan to a sheltered alcove, her back to the wall.
He faced outward, his body blocking Rowan from view, and waited. Brent didn’t wait long. The kidnappers sent another text. “What does it say?”
“Place the records on the ground in the alcove and walk away.”
“Not going to happen.” He held out his hand for her phone. “Let’s not make it easy for them.”
Rowan dropped the phone on his palm. Brent sent the kidnappers a message to bring Alexa or no records. He handed the phone back to Rowan.
Seconds later, a gunshot shattered the silence in the late afternoon. A bullet slammed into Brent, the momentum throwing him against the mausoleum wall. Pain in his chest stole his breath as he sank to the ground, his legs no longer able to hold him up.
Nearby a woman screamed his name. He tried to fight off the approaching darkness and lost.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Rowan scrambled to Brent’s side and dropped to her knees on the cold ground. “Brent!” She rolled him to his back, desperate to see where he was injured. She’d heard the shot, knew that was the reason he’d flown back and hit the mausoleum wall.
“Brent.” Rowan patted his cheek, but he didn’t respond. She stomped on the panic exploding in her gut. Rowan couldn’t help if she had a meltdown.
Heavy feet raced toward her.
Assuming it was one of the Fortress operatives, maybe Jake Davenport, she didn’t bother turning to look. “Help me. Brent’s been shot.” She spread his jacket open to determine the location of his wound and apply pressure to the injury.
Hard hands grabbed Rowan and yanked her to her feet.
“Hey!” She slapped at the hands dragging her away. “No!” Rowan glanced up. A ski mask covered the face of the man. She gasped at the sight. Not Fortress. Crap. She renewed her efforts to escape, yelling for Jon and Eli.
“Shut up,” a deep voice hissed. The hands jerked her off the path and deep into the forest and shoved her up against a tree, a gun pressed to her head, bark scratching her scalp as she tried to escape the gun. “One more sound and I’ll kill you and give orders to make sure your boyfriend is dead. The third bullet will go into your niece. One phone call and her brains splatter all over the room where she’s being held. Choose. You come with me now or you, your boyfriend, and the brat are dead.”
Another man in a ski mask raced toward them. “Go, go, go! The boyfriend’s friends are swarming this area. They’re armed, man. Who are these guys?”
Hard Hand’s head whipped back to her. “You living or dying today, Ms. Scott?” he growled.
“Living.” Hopefully, Jon or Eli would reach her before these guys left with her. If not, Brent’s tracker would bring Fortress to the rescue before she and Alexa paid a high price.
Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of the man she loved lying on the cold ground, maybe bleeding out before he reached the hospital. Jake had to reach him in time. Brent was a fighter, she reminded herself as her captor threw her over his shoulder and ran.
The trees blurred. Rowan looked behind them. Far in the distance, several men raced to the rescue, Jon and Eli in the lead. The Fortress operatives gained on the kidnappers with every stride. Just when she thought her captors would be caught, the second man stopped, turned on his heel, and fired round after round of bullets at the operatives. “No, don’t!”
The Fortress employees dived this way and that, dodging bullets while the man carrying her didn’t break stride. A short while later, he pulled up short, yanked Rowan off his shoulder, and shoved her over a low rock wall into the waiting hands of yet another man dressed in black with a ski mask covering his face.
The third captor shoved her into the backseat of a waiting SUV with the engine running. He climbed in after her and pointed a gun at her chest. His two buddies dived into the front seats. Hard Hands put the vehicle in motion and raced from the cemetery.
“Where are you taking me?” Rowan demanded.
“Shut up. You’ll find out when we get there.” The man in the backseat with her waggled his gun. “Turn around, lady.”
“Why?”
“You think we’ll leave you free to attack the driver? I’m not dying today although you might if you don’t turn around.”
Rowan swallowed hard. He might shoot her if she didn’t comply. Rowan had to stay alive in order to protect Alexa.
She turned. Immediately, her hands were yanked behind her back and cinched with plastic. Zip ties? She wiggled her wrists experimentally. Gun Guy knew what he was doing. If Brent were here, he’d know how to escape the cuffs.
A moment later, Gun Guy dangled a strip of black cloth in front of her face.
“No!” Rowan lurched away from him. If the kidnappers blindfolded her, she wouldn’t know where they were taking her. She needed to be able to see to plot an escape route if Brent couldn’t find her in time to help.
Her breath choked off. If Brent was still alive to find her. He couldn’t be dead. Losing him would kill her. Brent and the others had great faith in Jake Davenport’s skills. That the medic was close at hand could only mean a better chance for Brent’s survival.
“Relax, lady,” the kidnapper said. “The boss wants to make sure you can’t tell nobody where he is.”
“Do it, Ms. Scott,” Hard Hands said. “Your only other choice is for us to drug you.”
“No drugs,” she snapped. Praying she wasn’t making a fatal mistake, Rowan turned to face the window. The kidnapper tied the black cloth over her eyes and, after making sure she couldn’t see, shoved her flat on the seat.
Rowan had no idea how much time had passed since she’d been taken from Brent’s side when the SUV came to a stop. The driver’s side door opened, then the door nearest her.
Hard Hands gripped her arm and pulled her from the vehicle. A moment later, a second man grasped her other arm. The two of them escorted her over rough terrain and up a few stairs.
Somewhere ahead, she heard a door open and Rowan was rushed inside a build
ing. As soon as the door closed behind her, the blindfold was removed.
She blinked, trying to adjust to the sudden infusion of light. Rowan glanced around. She was surrounded by five men, all dressed in black. The three who had taken her from the cemetery removed their ski masks. The other two hadn’t covered their faces.
Couldn’t be good, she decided. No way she’d forget what these five looked like. Maybe they weren’t worried about her identifying them. That convinced her that Brent was right. The kidnappers didn’t plan to let her or Alexa go. Once they got what they wanted, Rowan and her niece would disappear, permanently.
“Where are the records that idiot, Maxwell, kept?” ground out the tall, broad-shouldered man with black hair and steel-gray eyes, his gaze cold and filled with anger and impatience.
“Who are you?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“I have the right to know who’s holding me against my will. What is your name?”
He scowled. “You’re a curious woman, aren’t you? Curious people don’t survive long. I want those records, Ms. Scott.”
“Let me guess. Invisible Man?” Had Brent been right? Was this Keith Phillips? She didn’t really care what his name was. “I want my niece.”
A calculating look filled his gaze. “Very well.” He tipped his chin to Hard Hands. “Get the brat.”
No one said a word while Hard Hands was gone. Within minutes, heavy footsteps heralded his return. Accompanying his steps were light ones running to keep up with him.
Rowan spun toward the hall. Hard Hands appeared, yanking Alexa along behind him. “Alexa!”
“Aunt Rowan!” The girl broke away from the man and raced into Rowan’s arms. “You came.”
“I told you I would.” She wrapped her arms around her niece and held her close. “Are you okay, Lex?”
The girl nodded even as she glared at the men surrounding them. “They didn’t hurt me. I want to go home now. I miss Mommy.”
Oh, man. Rowan didn’t want to have this conversation with an audience. “I know. Soon, okay?”