CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Brent raced across the street with Rowan. A quick glance at the approaching truck and he wrapped both arms around her and dived over the side of the ditch. He twisted so he took the hard landing, keeping Rowan’s head tucked against his body to protect her as much as possible. They stopped rolling at the bottom of the ditch.
Brent glanced at his girlfriend as he palmed his weapon. “You hurt, baby?”
She shook her head, eyes wide.
“Stay here,” he whispered and climbed back up the embankment. He carefully peered over the top. No sign of the truck or its driver. However, some of the neighbors were turning on lights. He needed to get Rowan out of here before someone asked questions he didn’t want to answer. The neighbors might know Rowan by sight. Not hard to do since her picture had been plastered all over the news for the last two days along with the photos of the Maxwells.
Brent scrambled back down the slope and lifted Rowan to her feet. When she swayed, he tucked her against his side. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Shaken up. Who was that? Was it one of the kidnappers or someone else?”
“Not sure. We have to leave. The neighbors will be here any minute to see what’s going on.” Again, he wrapped his arm around her waist and helped her up the slope to the sidewalk. Once there, Brent quickly walked with Rowan to his SUV and lifted her to the passenger seat, all the while staying alert for yet another attack.
He drove away from the Maxwell’s neighborhood at the speed limit, not anxious to attract the attention of the people spilling out onto their porches.
Once he was on the main drag, Brent sped up. In the distance, he noticed flashing blue lights heading their direction.
“Do you think that was the kidnappers?” Rowan asked again, clutching the red dog.
He thought about that a moment, then shook his head. “Doesn’t make sense. They want you to find the record. Why run you down before they know if you have it? You’re the only one who has a chance of finding what they’re after without drawing the attention of the police.”
There were three other possibilities. A reckless driver, a coincidence he didn’t buy. The shooter who killed Nolan White, maybe concerned Brent and Rowan saw too much. The third possibility was Carstairs had somehow tracked him and Rowan to the Maxwell place and tried to exact a little revenge.
No tracking devices on his SUV. Brent had checked before they left. If it was Carstairs, that meant the former employee had done an excellent job trailing him. Possible, he admitted to himself, but not likely unless Carstairs had enlisted help from his buddies.
Once he was sure they weren’t being followed, he called Zane. “Hack into the traffic cams.”
“What am I looking for?”
“Dark colored full-sized truck on Mead Lane. The truck tried to run us down ten minutes ago.”
Zane growled. “Rowan, are you all right?”
“As soon as my heart rate drops into normal range, I’ll be fine thanks to Brent.”
“Close your eyes a moment, sugar.”
She frowned, but complied. “Okay, my eyes are closed.”
“Picture the truck in your mind. What do you see?”
“Headlights bearing down on us. Lots of chrome.” Rowan paused. “Black rims.”
“Good job. Boss?”
“Yeah.”
“I assume you’re driving.”
“Yeah.”
“Got an address as a starting point?”
His lips curved. This was why Zane was one of the most valued members of his company. Brent rattled off the address where the truck appeared to be waiting for him and Rowan.
The sound of keys clicking could be heard over his sound system. “Got it,” Zane said a moment later. “Navy blue or black pickup backed into the driveway not long after you and Rowan crossed the street and headed toward a neighbor’s yard. Waited for you to reappear. I’m checking the license plate now.”
“How can he do that so fast?” Rowan asked.
“Magic fingers and much experience.” Brent wove through traffic as he headed for the Interstate and the safe house. Rowan needed to rest. Tomorrow would be a long day.
“Brent, the truck was reported stolen early this afternoon.”
Of course it was. “And the homeowners?”
“No owner. The home is in foreclosure.”
In other words, a dead end. “Track the truck as far as you can. Let me know if anything pans out.”
“Copy that. Rowan?”
“Yes?”
“Claire and I will see you tomorrow. Later, boss.” Zane ended the call.
“Is he serious?” Rowan asked.
“He never says anything he doesn’t mean.”
“But why? He and Claire didn’t know my sister.”
“They know you. That’s enough for them.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“No need to say anything, honey. They want to be there for you. Let them.”
More than an hour later, he parked at the safe house’s back door. A light glowed over the doorway, a signal that at least one of his operatives was waiting inside.
Before he turned off the engine, the door opened and Remy Doucet stepped out. He walked around to Rowan’s side and opened the door. After a quick perusal to be sure she wasn’t hurt, Remy said, “Lily’s waiting for you inside. We have a light meal and some hot tea ready. Try to eat. You need the nourishment, sugar.”
Rowan glanced at Brent. When he gave a slight nod, she grasped Remy’s outstretched hand, accepting his help to exit the SUV, and made her way into the house without a backward glance.
Brent exited the vehicle and met his operative at the front of the hood. “Talk to me.”
“Zane did some checking on Carstairs and his buddies. All of them are missing except for Johnson, the kid who returned to his training in Otter Creek.”
Johnson was the only one of the six men who had been kicked out of Fortress several months before for taking steroids that had cleaned up his act and asked to be readmitted to PSI. “Cahill verifies his presence at PSI?”
“Yep. Says the kid is doing great and has some real potential.”
Good to hear. Brent had liked the young man. “Is there any indication Carstairs and his group are involved in this latest incident?”
“Not so far. You know if they’re responsible for scaring Rowan, they’re stupid enough to brag about it. Z will ferret out that information.” Remy turned toward the house. “How is she holding up?”
“She’s amazing.” He couldn’t imagine anyone holding it together so well in light of the danger and repeated attempts on her life. Most would have been running for the hills, screaming in terror by now. Not Rowan. His woman wouldn’t run.
The operative slid him a look. “You keeping her?”
“What do you think?” Only a fool would let Rowan Scott slide through his fingers. He wasn’t a fool.
A grin. “Does she know?”
“Hey, I just convinced her to date me. Didn’t want to scare her off before I have a chance to cement the deal.” During his watch overnight, he’d plot strategy. He didn’t want to go through the rest of his life without Rowan. She was the light in his darkness. He sighed. And now he sounded like a total sap.
A chuckle from Remy. “I never thought I’d hear you say that, boss.”
Brent glanced over his shoulder, his hand on the door knob. “Why not?”
The smile slid from his friend’s face. “You knock yourself out to make sure we have what we need. You’re never off duty, and you cover missions others turn down or we don’t have the personnel to cover. In the years that I’ve known you, this is the only time I’ve heard you mention a woman in that tone of voice. The dates with other women were casual. This thing with Rowan isn’t. What we do is necessary, but dangerous. Most women can’t handle our jobs. If they could, one of the other women you dated would have snapped you up by now.”
“Rowan isn’t like most women.” An understatement. Rowan wasn’t like any woman he’d ever known. He was definitely keeping her.
Brent walked into the kitchen to hear Lily chattering about Remy’s family in Louisiana and telling Rowan about Lucifer the alligator. His eyebrow rose. Lily never talked that much about her family or Remy’s, concerned with their safety. Guess Rowan had made a new friend. Good. She needed one in these dark days.
“Try this, Rowan.” Lily slid a small bowl toward her with a couple of square-shaped pastries. “These are beignets. Remy’s mother sends us the mix every month to make them for ourselves.”
Rowan eyed the bowl, skepticism on her face. “I don’t know, Lily. I’m not sure that would be wise. My stomach has been in knots since Heather was murdered.”
“You haven’t eaten much for the past two days, have you?”
She shrugged. “I’m not hungry. I’ve been eating for Brent’s sake. I don’t want him to worry. He’s already concerned enough about the situation with Alexa. I didn’t want to add another distraction.”
Lily nudged the bowl a little closer. “Just a bite and I’ll leave you alone,” she coaxed. “You sell pastries in your coffee shop. Think of this as comfort food.”
One bite and Rowan moaned. “This is awesome.”
“Told you.” Lily grinned.
“I might have to add these to our menu at Coffee House.”
Remy dropped into the seat beside his wife and brushed a kiss over her cheek. “You’ll have to make them unless you find a supplier.”
“I’ll talk to my regular supplier, see if they’d be interested in adding these to their deliveries for us. If not, I might try making them myself or have Lacey make them. She loves to bake.”
Brent snitched his own Cajun pastry from a plate on the counter. “If you add them, you might consider adding chickory-flavored coffee as well.”
“Oh, man.” Remy sighed. “That would be fantastic.”
Rowan smiled. “I might try a test run to see how my customers react to the new offerings.”
“Tell me when you plan to try it. Lily and I will be there if we’re in town.”
When Rowan had finished her meal and tea, Brent held out his hand to her. “Come on. Time for cowboy therapy.” Her groan sparked a round of laughter from him and the Doucets.
He led her to the living room where he turned off the lights and found a cowboy movie. Remy settled into the recliner while Brent sat on the couch with Rowan and gathered her close. He hoped the combination of the slow-moving movie and his warmth would help Rowan fall asleep again. After kissing Remy, Lily left to sleep for a couple hours before she took over the watch.
“This is as exciting as watching paint dry,” Rowan muttered a few minutes later.
He kissed her temple, his lips curving. “That’s the point, baby.”
With a sigh, she settled deeper into the couch, her head resting against his shoulder. Before the movie was half finished, Rowan fell asleep.
Remy glanced over with a grin. “Lily is the same way,” he murmured, then turned his attention back to the movie. His operative had been doing rounds during commercial breaks, checking that all was secure each time.
While Rowan didn’t appreciate the fine acting skills of John Wayne, Brent settled back to enjoy one of his favorite movies. By the time the guys in white hats saved the day and the guys in black hats were defeated, the mostly sleepless nights were catching up to Brent as well.
“Remy,” he murmured. “I’ll take third shift.”
The operative gave him a snappy salute, then waved him on.
Brent picked up Rowan. She sighed and looped her arms around his neck.
“Brent?”
“Shh. Go back to sleep, baby.” He carried Rowan to her bed, slipped off her shoes, and tucked her in with a gentle kiss. Minutes later, he was asleep in his own room.
He woke four hours later to the sound of gunfire.