CHAPTER FIVE
Brent pressed the accelerator. “Pull up the video feed.” He swung around a slow moving vehicle and plunged ahead. He covered Rowan’s hand with his. “Do you mind if I check the house before I take you home?”
“No, of course not.” A sad smile curved her lips. “You were right earlier. We can’t race around Nolensville to find Alexa, especially since it appears whoever took her has disappeared. We don’t know where to look for her.” Her voice cracked.
“We’ll find her, baby. Trust me on this. We will not give up.”
“The boss is right, Rowan,” Zane chimed in. “None of us will rest until we have her back. Brent, got an ID on the guy trying to break into your place. And you aren’t going to believe who it is.”
His eyebrows soared. “Don’t keep me in suspense, Z. Who?”
“Dirk Carstairs.”
Brent scowled. “That clown we kicked out of the training program at PSI?”
“The same.”
Of all the stupid moves, this had to be his most boneheaded one yet. Breaking into Brent’s house? Carstairs had to know Brent had top-of-the-line security. “Cops on the way?”
“Copy that.”
“Get a message to them. Tell them to wait for me to arrive. After that, I want you to go home. You have a beautiful wife to enjoy.”
“Yes, sir.” The call ended.
“You know this man trying to break into your house?” Rowan asked. Her soft hand turned in his and she laced their fingers together.
He loved that she was comfortable with him to do that. He wanted to move their relationship a step further. He’d hoped to move them on that path with tonight’s dinner date. Guess that wasn’t going to happen this evening. Hopefully Rowan would promise him another shot at that date soon because she attracted him as no other woman had in a very long time. “Unfortunately, I do know him. This guy was in our training program for bodyguards. He was kicked out for taking steroids to boost his performance. We don’t tolerate our trainees taking drugs. Makes them undependable and dangerous in the field. One mistake on a mission could be fatal. While I don’t want to lose any of my operatives, I especially hate losing one to something that is avoidable.”
“Guess he didn’t take the dismissal well.”
“We thought he might go after the head of PSI, not me. But I signed off on the release papers so I suppose that makes me a target.” His hands clenched the steering wheel tighter. Brent welcomed Carstairs’ run at him. “Suits me better. I don’t want Cahill or his wife at risk.”
Rowan was silent a moment. “Why didn’t he go after the head of PSI?”
Brent tossed her a pointed look. “He is not a man to cross. Cahill and his unit are Delta trained. Carstairs doesn’t stand a chance against Cahill and he knows it. If he did manage to take out Cahill, his unit would hunt Carstairs to the ends of the earth. He would be their only mission.”
“But you’re a SEAL. This Carstairs guy should be just as afraid of you.”
“True, but Carstairs doesn’t know my background, Rowan.”
“Because you don’t spread it around?”
He shook his head. Hated to tout his own background. A Special Forces soldier with loose lips was soon a dead one. Some of their enemies had long memories and a burning need for vengeance. He’d been careful during his service in the Navy and after he left the SEALs. Apparently, he hadn’t been careful enough.
“Carstairs is an idiot if he doesn’t see the truth with his own eyes.”
Amusement swirled inside him. “Maybe. He’s obsessed with revenge because he thinks I’m to blame for his problems.”
“He brought them on himself,” Rowan protested. “He made the choice to cheat instead of working hard. He has no one to blame but himself.”
“He doesn’t see it that way, sweetheart.”
“I repeat, he’s an idiot.”
He chuckled. “I’m not going to argue with you.” He glanced at the woman by his side. “I hope you won’t take this the wrong way, but I’m staying with you tonight.”
Her head whipped his direction.
“I’ll sleep on the couch,” he added. “You shouldn’t be alone tonight, not after losing your sister. Unless you have someone else you would rather stay with you.” Please, don’t let there be anyone else. Brent wanted to be there for Rowan if she needed comfort in the night. She might think she was okay, but grief struck people different ways. She might wake in the middle of the night and be unable to return to sleep. He didn’t want her alone if that happened.
“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t need anyone.”
He tried another tack, this one true as well. “Sweetheart, at the risk of sounding an unnecessary alarm, we don’t know what was behind the murder of your sister and brother-in-law. It didn’t look like a robbery gone wrong to me. My guess is Maxwell crossed the wrong person and paid with his life.”
“What does that have to do with you staying with me tonight?”
“We talked about the length Carstairs would go to for revenge. If Maxwell’s offense was severe enough, the man he wronged may try to make a statement by wiping out his whole family and that includes you. You shouldn’t be alone, Rowan, just in case.”
“What about Alexa? Surely this person wouldn’t hurt that sweet girl. She had nothing to do with whatever Jay was into.” Her fingers gripped his tighter. “She’s safe, isn’t she?”
Brent wanted to lie to her, couldn’t. He didn’t want to start any relationship off on that foot. If he and Rowan continued to spend time together, they would have to talk over what he could and couldn’t say about his past and current work. The nature of his job meant keeping secrets from those he cared about. Some of those secrets were for their own protection while others were a matter of national security. Brent had a lot of plans, none of which included spending time in prison for treason. Would Rowan be one of the few who understood the need for secrecy? Somehow he thought she just might understand and not resent him.
He dragged his attention back to her question. “I think you’re in more danger than she is at the moment.” Brent raised their clasped hands and kissed the back of hers. “We need to move fast to make sure she stays that way.”
Releasing her hand, he activated his Bluetooth again and called Taylor.
“Yeah, Taylor.”
“You’re on speaker. It’s Brent. We lost Heather.”
The Metro homicide detective sighed. “Not the news I wanted to hear. Rowan?”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry for your loss. I won’t rest until I nail these people and bring Alexa home.”
“Thanks,” she replied, voice thick.
“Hope you have better news to share, Brent.”
“You asking as a cop or a part-time operative?”
Taylor’s voice dropped. “Right now, as an operative. I want a direction. What do you have?”
“Z tapped into the security cams. Not much to go by except he confirmed the black van with racing stripes was involved. He caught the van parked in the drive for about five or six minutes. Two guys dressed in all black with ski masks broke into the house. One chased down Maxwell and shot him where we found him. The other must have shot Heather and grabbed Alexa. The footage showed the girl being carried from the house and taken to the van. She didn’t struggle, Cal. I think they drugged her with something.”
A growl from his friend. “I know that’s not all you have. What else did Z learn?”
“Van was stolen.”
“Of course.”
“The van disappeared on the back roads. No traffic cams.”
“Ah, man. Tell me Zane got a face for me.”
“He did. He’s running our facial recognition as we speak.”
“I want to know the minute he identifies the kidnapper. I’ll get the paperwork moving for the official channels and alert the ME about Heather. Anything else?”
“Yeah, not connected to the Maxwell case, though. A former PSI trainee tried to break into my house a few minutes ago.” His hands clenched tighter around the steering wheel. “Might have gotten inside by now for all I know.” The thought ticked him off. What did Carstairs hope to gain by this? If he’d been hoping for jail time, he’d get it. Brent had no problem pressing charges against the cretin. If he wanted to prove a point, he made it, but it was going to cost him, big time. When it came to matters of security, Brent wasn’t the forgiving sort.
“Did Zane call the cops?”
“They’re supposed to wait for me to arrive.”
“Let me know if I can help. What’s this guy’s problem?”
“Got kicked out of training for steroid use. I’m the guy to hate.”
“Stupid. Keep me posted, boss.”
“Copy that.”
“Why does he call you that?” Rowan asked. “He works for the police department.”
“Cal goes on Fortress missions occasionally. He’s one of the best.”
She frowned. “Why doesn’t he work for you full time?”
How much should he tell her? Brent didn’t want to scare Rowan off before she had a chance to really know him. “Black ops wears on you, baby. He and I saw more than our share of ugliness in the military. Cal goes on the occasional mission to keep his skills sharp and to make the world a safer place for his future family, but not so many that the darkness overwhelms him.”
“Admirable to give back when it reminds him of the darkness.” She sent him a knowing look. “And I suppose it has nothing to do with the adrenaline rush from saving innocents.”
Laughter burst out of him. “You are one smart lady, Rowan Scott. That adrenaline rush is part of the reason he goes. We’re all addicted to the mission high.”
“He served with you, didn’t he?”
“Good guess.” Brent exited the interstate and drove the back roads to his home. He spotted the swirling lights of law enforcement long before he parked in his own driveway. Couldn’t hide something like that in the countryside.
“Want to wait here?” he asked Rowan.
“I want to hear what the police have to say.”
They walked to the nearest deputy sheriff. “I’m Brent Maddox, the homeowner.”
“ID?”
“It’s in my back pocket.” He turned to the side so the officer could watch his hand. Brent didn’t particularly want to spend the night in the hospital because of his own injury. Done enough of that during his years in the military. He removed his wallet and pulled out his driver’s license and a business card. “You catch the guy?”
The cop shook his head. “Already gone by the time we arrived. You’re pretty far out here.”
Brent resisted the inclination to roll his eyes. His logistics coordinator, Micah Winter, made it a point to remind him of that frequently. Not like Micah’s cabin was much better. He and his wife, Sophie, lived about thirty minutes from here, admittedly closer to town, but the point was the Winter family wasn’t on the main thoroughfare, either. “What’s the damage?”
“Several broken windows, book cases knocked over, broken dishes. A vandal with a vengeance.” The cop, Edwards according to his name tag, handed Brent his license. “Made anyone mad lately, Mr. Maddox?”
He snorted. “Part of my job description, Officer Edwards.”
“I hear you. Anyone in particular that you’ve ticked off?”
“One of my tech people called. I have video footage from my security system. Vandal’s name is Dirk Carstairs. He’s a disgruntled former employee.”
“Why was he let go?”
“Steroid use.”
“What do you do, exactly, Maddox?”
“I own Fortress Security. Private security, bodyguard, hostage rescue.”
Edwards straightened. “Wait. I’ve heard of Fortress. You guys do black ops recovery of HVTs.”
Brent inclined his head, neither denying nor confirming.
“I’d say you have quite a target on your back. Walk through the house, see if anything is missing. We’ll check for fingerprints.”
With a nod, he walked into the house, Rowan by his side. At his first glimpse of the destruction, Brent whistled. Carstairs had done a number on his house. Rage from the steroids? Hard to believe he’d smashed out the windows. Brent winced at the hole in his sixty-inch flat screen television. He led Rowan into the dining room, stopped. The rest of the destruction aggravated him. Destroying his great-grandmother’s china made his blood boil. The pattern had been discontinued long ago and couldn’t be replaced. News of this would break his mother’s heart. That more than anything made him want to hunt down Carstairs and seek a little revenge of his own.
“Oh, Brent,” Rowan murmured. Her hand tightened around his. “I’m so sorry.”
“Stuff can be replaced, babe.” His gaze dropped to the broken china. “Well, most of it can.” He crouched and lifted half a plate with a pattern of lilac sprigs. “This is a family heirloom, though. I’m pretty sure this pattern isn’t available anymore.”
“Will you let me take that?”
“Half a plate?” Brent’s eyebrows rose. “Why?”
“I want to see if I can find replacements. I have a couple friends who own antique shops. They love a challenge like this.”
“I hope they’re successful. I’m afraid it’s impossible.”
“It’s likely to be pricey.”
“I understand.” The prospect of forking over the money wasn’t nearly as painful as seeing his mother’s hurt at losing the plates, cups, and saucers she’d loved as a child. “Come on. Let’s check the rest of the house.”
“Have you seen anything missing so far?”
“Nope. The insurance company won’t be happy.” Obviously, his security measures needed to be evaluated if Carstairs managed to break in with seemingly little difficulty. The further back into the house they walked, the less destruction was evident with the exception of his home office. There Carstairs had taken out his rage at being fired.
Brent headed for what was left of his laptop, noted that the flash drives were scattered around the room. Had the former trainee tried to access the files? He pulled out his cell phone and called the comm center at Fortress headquarters. “I need a tech out here at my place,” he said. “Possible cyber security breach.”
“Copy that, sir. We’ll have someone on scene in thirty. Do you need backup?”
“I’m safe, Grant. Make sure whoever comes out brings a partner to watch his back and brings plywood. Five windows are broken.”
“Which ones?”
His brow furrowed. Why did he want to know that? “Living room and dining room.”
“We’ll check to see if we have replacements in stock for you.”
He blinked. “Replacements? We don’t replace windows.”
“Not for everyone else, sir. Just you and Winter.”
“I suppose that is Micah’s idea?”
“Yes, sir.”
It was a good one, he had to admit. The windows were made of bullet-resistant glass and hard to get. While Brent worked hard to protect his operatives’ identities, he and Micah were the face of the company. As much as they tried to conceal their addresses, apparently Carstairs had managed to get the information anyway. He needed to warn Micah.
His jaw clenched. Once they captured Carstairs, Brent would find out how he learned the information and close the security gap. He wasn’t worried so much for himself, but Micah had a young son and another baby on the way. No way would he allow anything to happen to Sophie and the kids. “I’ll be on site for about an hour. Make sure someone’s out here by then.”
“Roger that, sir.”
Rowan leaned against the door jamb. “Must be nice to have your windows replaced within an hour.”
“It’s not a service we offer. My logistics manager set it up as an extra security measure.”
“I don’t understand.”
“These aren’t regular windows. They’re made with bullet-resistant glass and it takes a long time to have them replaced. It’s not something kept in stock.”
“I’m glad your people take good care of you.”
They walked back to the front of the house where Officer Edwards was dusting his door for prints. “Shields is working on the incident report. When he’s finished, you’ll need to sign it.” The officer inclined his head toward the door. “I’ll let you know if we pick up any usable prints. So far, no luck.”
No surprise. He probably wouldn’t lift any. Fortress would be lucky to find Carstairs before he struck again.