by Rebecca Deel
The man closed his mouth as Brent retrieved his backup piece from Rowan and returned it to his ankle holster. He didn’t miss her soft sigh of relief. “Cat got your tongue, buddy?” he asked, tone conversational. “Let me help you out. You and your friend kicked down the door of a house last night, killed a husband and wife, and kidnapped a six-year-old. How am I doing so far?”
“You’re nuts, man.”
He smacked the back of the guy’s head. “Wrong answer. Try again.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“Really? Hmm. So what you were doing looking in the lady’s window?”
“I didn’t know anybody lived here. Was just trying to find a way in. There’s got to be cash here. It’s business, you know?”
Brent circled around behind him, pulled out his phone, and grabbed the other man’s thumb.
“Ow! That hurts. What do you think you’re doing?”
He ignored the protests and pressed the guy’s thumb down on the phone screen. With a couple taps, he sent the print to Fortress to run through their system. Moving to the front, Brent snapped a picture, and sent that in to the techs as well. Hopefully, they’d get an ID on this guy before long. When he’d had this guy on his stomach on the ground, he hadn’t found a wallet so no identification. He could guess how a request for a name would be met. “What’s your name?”
“John Smith.”
Yep, just like he thought. He smiled. “Funny guy. You don’t look a plain old John Smith. No matter. We’ll know who you are soon. More importantly, we’ll know who you work for.”
“How do you know I’m not in business for myself?”
A snort. “You aren’t smart enough to run the show.” He circled around behind Ski Mask again. This time he laid his hands on the man’s shoulders and dug his thumbs into a couple pressure points. The results were immediate.
Ski Mask groaned, his face beading with sweat.
“Why were you breaking into this apartment?” he murmured.
“I told you. Looking for a way into the shop. I need money.” He spoke through clenched teeth.
Brent dug his thumbs in a little deeper, knowing from experience the pain Ski Mask experienced was excruciating. He glanced at Rowan, gratified to note she was hanging in there with him even though this must be distasteful for her. She’d moved a few feet farther away, her gaze locked on the man who’d tried to climb into her bedroom window.
Another groan, then, “I came for her, all right?”
“Why? Were you supposed to abduct the lady?” Brent had his doubts.
He shook his head. “Kill her.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Why?” Rowan edged closer to the man tied to her dining chair until Brent frowned, making it obvious he didn’t want her moving nearer to Ski Mask. “Why do you want me dead?” As far as she knew, Rowan had never seen this guy before. What possible reason could he have to kill her?
She swallowed hard, afraid Brent was right. The only crime she’d ever been exposed to had happened the night before. She sold coffee and pastries, nothing worth killing over.
“Nothing personal, lady.”
Anger burned in her gut. “It is to me, mister,” she snapped. “I have plans that don’t include dying today.” She took another step forward, wanting to wring this guy’s neck. Didn’t matter that she’d never done such a thing in her life. This lowlife deserved any punishment she dished out. If Rowan died, Alexa would be dumped in the foster care system. That was unacceptable on every level. Alexa needed Rowan now more than ever.
“Don’t move any closer, baby,” Brent said.
“You know, if I were you, I’d sing like a bird,” Rowan said to Ski Mask, voice soft. “My friend here is very skilled at getting answers to his questions. You don’t want him to demonstrate how good he is. You won’t like the process.” Not that she’d know anything about that from personal experience. Rowan had a great imagination, though. “So do yourself a favor and give him the information he wants.”
“Listen to the lady. Who hired you?” Brent asked, shifting his hold slightly.
“I don’t know.” Another moan and the sweat began to run down from Ski Mask’s hairline. “I got an email, offering money if I offered proof that the lady was dead.”
“Who sent the email?”
“Some guy who calls himself Invisible Man.”
Rowan stared in disbelief at the moniker. Some wannabe spy or someone with a late-night movie fetish wanted her dead?
Brent rolled his eyes. “How much did he offer for her death?”
“Ten thousand.”
Dollars? An invisible band tightened around Rowan’s chest. She couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact she had a bounty on her head.
“How were you supposed to kill her?” Brent asked.
“The email didn’t say. Invisible Man didn’t care as long as the lady was dead.”
“How would you identify her?”
Ski Mask shrugged. “Got this address in the email. No description or nothing, just that she lived upstairs and Invisible Man wanted her dead tonight.”
If a woman had been staying here besides her tonight, this guy would have killed that woman by accident. Rowan had an employee who stayed over when her boyfriend drank too much. More than one customer had mentioned how much Lacey and Rowan looked like sisters. Lacey wouldn’t have known anything until it was too late. Now that she thought about the noise that alerted her to Ski Mask’s presence, Rowan realized she heard him on the fire escape moving from the window to the guest room to her room. The guest room curtains weren’t drawn, letting this thug see that no one was in that room.
Her gaze shifted to Brent. What if her friend had been sleeping there? Would he have been taken unaware? She considered that, decided against the idea. Brent was too alert.
What if Alexa had been staying with Rowan? “Were you planning to shoot me like you did my sister?”
A scowl from this man. “Don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know who your sister is and I don’t carry a gun.” A smirk crossed his face. “I can do the job just fine with my bare hands.”
Was he serious? A closer examination of his expression told Rowan he was dead serious. This guy was bragging about his prowess in using his hands to kill. Her cheeks burned.
“So you were planning to strangle her?” Brent asked, his tone icy.
The guy shrugged. “Eventually. What do you care? It’s just a job.”
“Not to me.” Quick as lightning, Brent wrapped his arm around Ski Mask’s neck and began choking him. The man struggled, face reddening, but Brent had him in an unbreakable grip. “She matters to me. I would snap your neck in a heartbeat if she asked me to.”
Sirens sounded in the distance. Relief swept through Rowan. Detective Taylor would be here soon. She wanted Ski Mask out of her apartment and off the street where no one would worry about their loved ones being harmed by this guy. She also didn’t want Brent forced to kill in anger. Having to defend his own life or that of someone he was protecting was a different matter. “Is this what you do for a living?” she asked Ski Mask. “You kill people?”
He clawed at Brent’s cloth-covered arm.
“Something tells me you aren’t any good at this sort of thing.”
“At ten thousand dollars, his employer isn’t hiring a top-tier assassin.” Brent stepped away from him and shifted to her side as the sirens cut off abruptly. Ski Mask coughed, tears leaking from his eyes. “This guy’s a throwaway. His employer either planned to kill him or throw him to the wolves.”
“Hey!” He coughed more.
Brent pulled out his cell phone, glanced at the message on his screen, smiled. “You’re definitely a bottom feeder, Carlos Salazar. A loser with a record a mile long. No judge will cut you a break. You’re going away for a long time.”
Ski Mask’s face paled. A moment later, he closed his mouth and refused to say anything else.
Someone pounded on the door, ide
ntifying himself as a police officer. After confirming his identity, Brent opened the door.
A patrolman looked into the apartment, hand on his weapon. His gaze rested on Ski Mask who was glaring at all of them, then shifted his attention to Brent. “You Maddox?”
“That’s right.”
After checking Brent’s ID, the officer moved just inside the doorway. “Taylor will be here in two minutes.” He inclined his head toward Ski Mask. “What’s the story?”
Brent gave him a brief summary of events over the past half hour.
Rowan wondered why he didn’t give the officer the whole story. Unnecessary information since this guy wasn’t involved in the original crime scene, she decided. He looked a little young, maybe a rookie. Wonder how soon he’d be working to keep nosy neighbors away from the scene?
She glanced at the clock, sighed. The police would be on the street in front of her store soon. It was just after four o’clock. In fact, she’d need to go down to the shop within the hour. The Coffee House doors opened at six for customers like Brent who were usually waiting for her to unlock the doors, and the pastry delivery would be delivered at five. Rowan had to be downstairs until she reached her assistant manager, Lacey, and arranged for her to cover Rowan’s shifts. Chase, her most senior employee, would have to help Lacey.
No way was Rowan allowing Brent to hunt for Alexa without her. She knew Brent well enough to realize if a lead materialized, he’d chase the trail wherever it led, with or without her. Rowan was determined not to be left behind. Alexa needed her and Rowan intended to be there for her, especially after the trauma she’d suffered and was still enduring. That thought made her eyes sting. Where was her niece?
A shadow darkened the door to the hallway and Detective Cal Taylor stepped into the living room. His gaze locked onto Ski Mask. “Get an ID on this guy, Maddox?”
“Carlos Salazar. Loser with a long record.”
“Figures.” He turned to the officer, glanced at his name tag. “Officer Nelson, take Mr. Salazar into custody and run him down to the station.”
“I didn’t do nothing,” Salazar protested.
“Is that right?” Taylor eyed Rowan. “Let’s ask the lady. Why did you call me, Ms. Scott?”
“I woke up to Mr. Salazar climbing into my bedroom window thirty minutes ago.”
“I take it you had the window closed and locked?”
“Yes, sir, I did.”
“She’s lying,” spat out Salazar. “I didn’t climb into no window. Maybe her boyfriend just wanted to play the hero to impress his girlfriend.”
“We’ll have a nice long talk about your B & E habits. I’m betting you left behind signs of your break-in.” He nodded at Maddox. “Cut this clown loose so Nelson can get him out of here.”
Brent’s eyes glittered. He bent down and pulled a wicked looking knife from his black combat boot. Rowan fought to keep a grin from spreading across her mouth as Brent made a show of examining his knife in the light from her lamp. The grip and blade itself were black, seeming to absorb the light instead of reflect it. She’d never seen a knife like this one before. Was this a weapon he took into combat? Rowan knew nothing about military operations, but the knife perfect for night work on a mission. In fact, come to think of it, Brent never wore anything that reflected light. Her friend looked as comfortable with that weapon in his hand as he did with a gun. Nice to know her tax dollars had gone some place useful.
Brent took his time crossing the remaining distance to Salazar, then circled around behind him and sliced through the zip ties at his wrists and ankles with one swipe for each restraint. Salazar lunged to his feet. He’d only taken one step toward Rowan before Taylor grabbed him and shoved him face first against the wall beside Officer Nelson who slapped handcuffs on the thug.
“We’ll be adding evading arrest to your list of charges,” Taylor said cheerfully. “I’m sure I’ll think of several more things to include before I’m finished with you.”
Salazar spewed a series of vile curses.
“Get him out of here before I shut him up,” Brent snapped.
Taylor nodded to Nelson who escorted a still protesting and cursing Carlos Salazar out of the apartment. Once he was gone, Taylor turned to her and Brent. “So, what’s the story? Wait.” He held up a hand and focused on Brent. “Tell me I won’t see any bruises on this guy that I’ll have a hard time explaining to my superiors.”
“He admitted he broke in to murder Rowan,” Brent said. “Salazar was offered $10,000 to do the job.”
“In other words, he’s lucky to still be breathing. I’m surprised you showed that much restraint.” The detective rubbed the back of his neck. “Mind if we sit? It’s been a long night.”
“Of course. Would you like coffee?” Rowan asked. She had time to start a pot before changing to work clothes.
“Coffee would be fantastic. Thank you, Rowan.”
“No problem.” She led the way into the kitchen and motioned for them to sit at the breakfast bar.
“Need help?” Brent asked.
“I’ve got it.” Rowan crossed to the cabinet where she kept her coffee supply and measured out enough for a full twelve cups, figuring both Brent and Detective Taylor could use the caffeine boost. Didn’t look as though the detective had changed clothes, which told her he’d either still been at Heather’s when Brent called or at the station writing reports. She didn’t think Brent had slept much, if any, during the night. “Detective Taylor, do you know anything more about Alexa? Any new leads?”
“I’m sorry, Rowan. I’m still working through the evidence. We’ve just started combing through the electronics and haven’t had time to interview people at Jay’s work yet. I promise you, I will let you know when I learn something. Alexa is my priority now.”
“What about the feds?” Brent asked.
A grimace. “They’ll get involved this morning.”
Rowan started the brewing cycle and pulled out a couple of to-go cups with lids in addition to the regular ceramic mugs. “I have to be downstairs in forty minutes. Coffee House has pastries delivered fresh every morning at five o’clock. I’m the one who meets the delivery guy most mornings.”
“How long will it take you to get ready for the day?” Taylor asked.
“Ten minutes.” With only a few hours of sleep, no amount of makeup in the world would cover the evidence of fatigue. She’d just do the basics, she decided. Didn’t have time for much more than that anyway.
“Do what you need to. I’ll interview you when you finish. In the meantime, I’ll get Brent’s take on this morning’s events.”
With a nod, Rowan hurried to her room and closed the door on the murmur of male voices. Her gaze went to the window and she shivered. What would have happened if Brent hadn’t insisted on staying last night? Nothing good. Even more frightening, with her alive, Salazar missed a paycheck and that seemed to be all that mattered to him. What kind of man made his living killing people?
Turning away from the window, she brushed her teeth and washed her face. After applying enough makeup to keep her from looking washed out, Rowan grabbed a better pair of jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt with the Coffee House logo on the front. She changed her socks to match her navy shirt and tied her tennis shoes back on.
When she returned to the kitchen, both men were sipping coffee. “Rowan, this is fantastic,” Taylor said, lifting his mug for another sip.
“Told you,” Brent murmured. “I prefer not to go anywhere else for coffee if I can help it.”
Rowan poured coffee into the to-go cups for the men to take with them when they left, then poured herself a steaming cup. They weren’t the only ones in dire need of caffeine. “What do you want to know, Detective Taylor?”
“Cal. What time did you go to bed last night? I’m establishing a time line of events.”
She frowned, turned to Brent. “Did you notice the time?”
“Just before two.”
Rowan grimaced. “I slept for two hours?�
��
Amusement lit Cal’s face. “You stayed here last night, Brent? Didn’t expect that, buddy.”
“On the couch,” Rowan hastened to explain, concerned that Cal would see his friend in a bad light. “He was worried someone might try to hurt me. I thought he was overreacting. Turned out he was right.”
Cal sobered. “Any time Brent’s instinct tells him something, you’d be wise to listen. He saved my skin more than once over the years because I paid attention to him.”
“Believe me, I won’t forget. Anyway, I fell asleep on the couch while Brent and I were watching a boring cowboy movie. He carried me to bed at two, then left me with the door open. At four, I woke up to a noise. Couldn’t place it at first. Now, I think it was Ski Mask walking on the fire escape from the guest room to my room. He forced the lock and started to climb inside the room. When I screamed, he hurried back through the window and down the fire escape. Brent ran in and chased him out onto the fire escape and to the street. Brent knocked on my door about ten minutes later with Ski Mask in tow.”
“Ski Mask?” Taylor’s eyebrows rose. “Why do you call him that?”
“Because he was wearing one until Brent snatched it from his head so we could see his face.”
“Did you recognize him?”
Rowan shook her head. “So what now?”
“I need to look around, see if I can pull prints off the window and fire escape. Did you notice him wearing gloves?”
“I wasn’t paying attention to his hands. Brent?”
“No gloves.”
“Makes my job easier. When I finish processing your apartment, I’ll head to the station to question Salazar. I’ll need both of you to come down and sign your statements. I should have them ready.” He shoved his notebook and pen into his jacket pocket.
“We’ll come by when Rowan is free,” Brent promised.
Rowan frowned. “Wait. Don’t you have to work?”
He inclined his head to his bag. “My laptop is in there and I have my cell phone. I’ll be working from your shop until your bodyguard arrives.”
