by Rebecca Deel
“Sounds like Jay was a control freak. My guess is your sister got the list from Jay without his knowledge.”
The risk her sister took to obtain the list, code it, then bring it to Rowan made her stomach twist. What was so important she would take such a risk? “Why did Jay have the list?”
“Adam, send me a copy of the list,” Zane said. “I’ll run checks on these guys to see where they are at the moment.”
“Copy that.”
“Everything under control at the shop?” Rowan asked.
“No more problems with Wright or anyone else. Lacey settled down after you and Brent left. Traffic’s been steady. It’s nice working here.”
“May I ask a favor, Adam?”
“Ask.”
“Will you make sure Lacey arrives home safely and Frank hasn’t broken into her house?”
Silence, then, “That’s happened before.”
“A couple times. Will you check?”
“No problem, Rowan. Boss, further orders?”
“I want you at Coffee House when the doors are open. Once you’ve decoded the other part of the list, we’ll shift research work to you.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thanks for keeping my friends safe, Adam,” Rowan said.
“It’s my job, but I can’t say it’s a hardship. First rate coffee and snacks at my fingertips all day? Yeah, I’ll suffer for the cause.”
She laughed. “I’m glad Lacey is taking good care of you.”
“Brent, I’ll let you know when I’ve cracked the other code. Check your email in a couple minutes. Z, you and Claire still coming to my place for dinner tomorrow night?”
“You bet. Not letting you welsh on paying your debt, brother-in-law or not.”
“You cheated,” he said.
Zane chuckled. “Didn’t have to cheat. You’re lousy at sled hockey. I expect a full Mexican spread.”
“Yeah, yeah. Seven o’clock. Don’t be late.” The operative ended the call.
“Sled hockey?” Brent’s eyebrows rose. “That’s a new sport for you.”
Zane shrugged. “Claire has turned into a hockey fan since I took her to a Predators game. She wanted to learn how to play.”
“Sounds like fun,” Rowan said. “Do you let her win?”
He scowled. “What do you take me for? A softie?”
She started to apologize, but Rowan noticed the twinkle in his eyes that confirmed her suspicions. “Does she know the truth?”
“He’s too smart for that.” A small smile curved Brent’s mouth.
“She’s pretty cute when she does her victory dance,” Zane said.
She grinned. Rowan couldn’t wait to meet Claire Murphy. She sounded like a fun person to know. “What now?”
“Work.” Brent brushed a soft kiss over her mouth. “I’ll check the potatoes and start the steaks. Get started on your Maxwell Imports search while I work on dinner.”
When Brent left for the patio, Rowan retrieved her laptop. Sitting across from Zane, she booted up her system and thought about that simple kiss Brent gave her. Simple? Ha! How could a brief peck on the mouth cause such a strong reaction? That kiss didn’t mean anything, she reminded herself. Or did it?
She glanced out the patio door at the man poking potatoes. Did she want the kiss to mean something? No. Maybe. Rowan sighed. Yes, she did. Was that too much to hope for?
Probably. What would he see in her? A date to pass the time? Something more? Who was she kidding? Brent Maddox wouldn’t be interested in her when he realized Alexa was part of the equation from now on. As of last night, Rowan and Alexa came as a set.
Rowan typed in her password. No sense brooding when a tidbit of information might help Brent and Zane find Alexa. A direction would help. So if spending time surfing the Net would save Zane or Adam from grunt work, Rowan was glad to type her fingers to the bone.
She keyed in the name of Jay’s company, startled at the number of hits that popped up. Based on the headlines, not all the stories written about Maxwell Imports were complimentary.
Settling back in her chair, Rowan began to read. The news articles were good in the early days of Jay’s company. Reporters called the company a rising star and a challenger for leadership in the industry. According to rumors, Maxwell Imports raked in a substantial profit the first four years. Then the economy did a number on the company and, like every other business in the country, profits slumped. Two years ago, business boomed again.
Rowan frowned. She started Coffee House on a shoestring budget about that time and profits were hard to come by. In fact, she’d had to dig into her savings account for several months because business was slow at first. The people who faithfully bought coffee from her in the early days complained about the economy’s sluggishness.
Jay had been in business longer. Maybe his customers’ businesses had grown again at that time. As far as she knew, Rowan didn’t have customers in the import/export business. Still, the profit surge timing bugged her.
As tired as she was, Rowan might forget details that struck her as strange. She needed paper to keep track of them. “Would Brent mind if I looked for paper?” she asked Zane. “I need to start a list of information to follow up on.”
“It’s fine, Rowan.” Zane winked at her. “He won’t mind if you explore.”
She blinked, not sure how to take that statement. Why wouldn’t Brent mind? She’d seen how he reacted to the invasion of his home.
Brent walked into the kitchen, paused. “Everything okay, babe?”
Her heart skipped a beat at the endearment. She loved hearing those sweet names from Brent’s lips. “I need paper.”
“Top right hand desk drawer in my office.” Brent grabbed the plate of steaks and left again.
“Told you,” Zane said.
In his office, Rowan found the paper and a pen, returned to the table to make notes. Minutes later, Brent brought inside the steaks and potatoes. Rowan breathed deep. Oh, man. The food smelled good. Brent set the platters on the table.
The first bite of steak made Rowan groan in appreciation. “This is incredible, Brent. I might hire you at Coffee House.”
He chuckled. “Unless you expand your menu to include items from the grill, I’ll have to pass. I’m not a baker.”
“You didn’t grill my scrambled eggs and toast this morning.”
Brent shrugged. “That type of breakfast food is easy. What your suppliers provide you with in the mornings is beyond my capability.”
From there, the conversation shifted to funny stories about Brent and Zane’s experiences in the military. When they finished telling tales on each other, Rowan glanced down at her plate, surprised to find it nearly empty.
She glanced at Brent, found him watching her. He winked and started gathering plates and utensils. He and Zane had kept her attention so she would eat. Rowan had to admit she felt stronger, though her body was tired, her brain foggy.
Once the dishes were cleared and the dishwasher running, they returned to the table.
“What did you find in your search?” Brent asked Rowan.
“Weird stuff in Maxwell Imports’ background.”
“Explain.”
“Jay’s company started strong. I’m not sure what he imported, but he made a good profit. The economy tanked and his business suffered. Two years ago the company’s profits soared. Overnight, Jay’s company went from being in the red to operating in the black.”
“Interesting.”
“I started Coffee House at the same time and customers complained about how tough it was to turn a profit. I struggled in those early months. Not Jay, though. One week he’s in the red, the next he’s bucking up against the top of the profit chart.”
“Huh. Anything else?”
“Rumors that Jay was into something illegal. On the plus side, it seems his customers were very happy with his service. No complaints from anyone.”
“That’s strange in itself,” Zane muttered. “Even Fortress has complaints.
”
“Exactly what I thought,” Rowan said.
“Anything new on your search, Zane?” Brent asked.
“All six of our militia leaders are where they’re supposed to be. One of them, however, is serving time in the state penitentiary for tax evasion.”
Brent snorted.
Zane chuckled. “Here’s what caught my attention. The Volunteer Militia has a new leader, Keith Phillips. Keith has been busy. He’s traveled a lot of miles recently, including several trips to Mexico.”
“Why Mexico?” Rowan asked.
“He’s not working on his tan,” Zane said.
“Do you know where he’s going?” Brent asked.
“Sorry, boss. Once he crossed the border, Phillips fell off the radar until he returned to the U.S. I can tell you he crossed the border at El Paso.”
“Chihuahua province. That isn’t what I wanted to hear.”
“What’s wrong with him going to Mexico?” From the look on Brent’s face, the information was significant.
“I want to know who Phillips did business with.”
Nice way to dodge the question. “You’re sure he’s up to no good.”
“As sure as the sun rises in the morning, babe.” Brent shifted his attention to his friend. “What assets do we have on the ground in Mexico?”
“None of our people. I checked while we talked to Adam. However, I consulted the DEA’s database. They have agents scattered throughout the country.”
Rowan’s eyebrows rose. Consulted, huh? Sounded like a fancy term for hacking. What was the penalty for hacking into a secured federal database? Jail, fines? Probably that and more. Rowan didn’t think the DEA had a sense of humor about security.
“Anyone we know?” Brent asked.
“Veronica Miles ring a bell for you?”
Brent whistled. “Can we get in touch with her?”
“I know someone who knows someone.”
“Get her a message. See if she’ll tap into her network.”
Zane sent him a pointed look. “We’ll owe her big time for this.”
“A favor. Any time, anywhere. My word on that.”
Rowan blinked. How much would this information cost Brent? From Zane’s grim expression, she guessed the price would be steep.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Brent watched the taillights of Zane’s truck fade from view, then stayed in the doorway. Someone lurked in the darkness, watching, waiting to make a move. He wanted to go hunting, couldn’t because it meant leaving Rowan alone. She’d been traumatized enough in the last two days.
“What’s wrong?” Rowan asked.
“You’re so sure something is wrong?”
“Brent.”
“I don’t want to scare you.”
“Too late. Spill.”
“Someone is watching the house.”
A soft hand landed on his forearm. “You’re sure it’s not your people?”
“Positive.” Only a fool would keep eyes on his place without his knowledge.
“What do you want to do?”
“Wait.”
Silence, then, “If you were here by yourself, would you wait?”
He didn’t say anything.
“Go, Brent. I’ll be fine. Invisible Man doesn’t know I’m here.”
Maybe not, but if the watcher was Carstairs, he wouldn’t hesitate to use Rowan for his own ends. Brent refused to allow her to be a pawn in Carstairs’ plan for revenge. However, he did have a way to protect her if she would stay in place.
He turned and, with the door still open, drew Rowan into his arms.
“Aren’t you going to close the door?”
“In a minute. I want to give the watcher something to think about.” Brent slowly bent to her. “Do you mind?”
Her gaze shifted from his mouth to his eyes. “Mind what?”
His lips curved as he captured her mouth. He took his time kissing her, hoping to give the impression that he would be distracted and an easy target once he closed the door. The irony was he did become distracted. Every time he touched Rowan Scott, he fought a losing battle to keep himself under control. She was the total package for him.
When he lifted his head a minute or an hour later, Rowan’s gaze was clouded, a soft expression on her face. Brent inched away and nudged the door closed with his elbow.
“Come with me.”
“Where are we going?”
“Safe room.” Brent clasped her hand and led her toward his bedroom. When she balked at his door, he glanced over his shoulder. “Trust me, Rowan.”
He crossed to his walk-in closet. At the back wall, Brent pressed on two of the mirrored panels simultaneously. A soft click and he moved aside the panel to key his security code into the pad. The mirrored wall slid aside, revealing yet another key pad into which he tapped another security code. When the green light flashed, Brent opened the heavy steel door and turned on the light. He stepped aside for Rowan to enter the secure room. “Welcome to the bunker.”
Four computers hummed quietly. One screen was split to show each of the different rooms in his house. A second split screen showed the front view outside of his house. The third screen was filled with camera angles from the back. A dialog box was on the fourth screen, waiting for him to login and start a search.
Rowan glanced at the leather couch and chair, small refrigerator, and half bath. “Have you ever had to use this?”
He stilled, studying her. Would too much information scare her off? How much he didn’t want Rowan to walk away shocked Brent. “Once, a year ago.”
“Can you tell me about it?”
Appreciating the careful way she phrased the question, he searched for the best explanation that wouldn’t reveal too much. “Fortress had a cookout here. Someone with a grudge against me and the company followed one of my rookies.”
“Sounds like a watered down explanation. I can’t see you hiding out, so you must have come here to see the computer screens.”
His lips curved.
“You want me to stay in here while you hunt for the watcher?”
“Please. That way I won’t worry about your safety while I’m outside.”
“Will I be able to see everything?”
“I’m not sure. Depends on where I catch this clown.” He lifted her chin with the edge of his hand. “Promise you’ll stay inside this room.”
“What if you need help?”
He smiled. The woman had guts, he’d give her that. She was afraid, yet willing to toss safety aside to help him. “I won’t.” Besides, if she had to come to his rescue, the situation was dire and in all likelihood, neither of them would survive.
Brent tapped the number on the card he’d laid on the desk top. “If I don’t come back within an hour, call Zane. He’ll know what to do.”
“Shouldn’t I call the police?”
“After you call Zane.” He grabbed a piece of paper from the desk drawer and wrote down the safe room codes in bold, black strokes. “These are the codes for the safe room. Don’t use them unless Zane tells you it’s safe to come out. Not for the cops or anyone else claiming to be from Fortress. Only me or Zane.”
She frowned. “I better not have to use this, Brent Maddox. I want more kisses from you.”
A slow smile spread across his face. “Do you now? Good to know.” He dropped a quick kiss on her mouth and stepped around her. At the door he glanced back, reluctant to leave her.
“Go. I’ll be here when you return.”
With a nod, he left and secured the door. Brent tapped the screen on his watch. The screen changed. He’d already had the techs check his perimeter sensors which hadn’t gone off during Carstairs’ run at the house two nights ago. The minor malfunction had been fixed which meant the watcher either hadn’t crossed the perimeter yet or he’d eluded the sensors. Knowing his system, he voted for the former.
Brent checked his weapon, grabbed his night vision glasses from his Go bag, and slipped out the back door. A few steps onto the
patio, he glanced at the security camera hidden in the eaves and gave Rowan a salute.
That done, he turned his mind to the hunt, pushing everything else aside for the moment. Weapon in hand, he hugged the shadows as he worked his way into the woods surrounding his home on three sides. If he had to guess, he’d say the watcher was hold up on the right side of his driveway. There was a particularly thick stand of trees two hundred feet from the house he’d been meaning to thin. Definitely a new priority if that was where his unwanted visitor was hiding.
He moved silently through the shadow-drenched forest. The cool breeze nipped at his skin. Though he hadn’t seen a tail as he drove home earlier, that didn’t mean there wasn’t one. If the watcher was connected to Rowan’s situation, Brent wanted to have a chat with this one before turning him over to the cops.
He circled the rocks and skirted the creek. When he shifted closer to where he suspected the watcher might be, Brent slipped on his NVGs. Immediately, the world lit up.
Quartering the area, Brent spotted the watcher right where he figured. Careful to place his feet where he wouldn’t alert the other man to his approach, he came up behind the crouched figure. A man from the build, one with a phone in his hand.
Brent frowned as he eased off the glasses and laid them aside to retrieve later. If one of his operatives had been messing with his phone on a mission, Brent would have fired him on the spot. In a rush, he took the guy down from behind. Shadow Man twisted loose like a slippery eel and spun to face Brent.
Brent shifted position as the man side-stepped, hoping to gain an advantage. Shadow Man moved into a bright patch of moonlight. Didn’t recognize him. The guy stopped circling and ran at him like a linebacker. At the last second, Brent made a minute adjustment and Shadow Man missed him. He pivoted and charged again.
Brent blocked a right cross, countered with his own which connected. The other man swore and redoubled his efforts to throw punches. A kick to the ribs had the man roaring in pain and fury. Shadow Man tried his own spinning kick. Brent blocked the kick, grabbed his leg, twisted, and took him down to the ground. Two short punches to the gut and ribs, a fist to the jaw, and in less than a minute, Brent flipped him to his belly and zip tied his hands. A quick search revealed a .40 caliber Glock and a Smith and Wesson knife. Sweet, well-balanced knife. Brent had one of his own that he favored.
