Deadly Game (Fortress Security #5)(3)

“Good choice.” He made a mental note of her preference. The information might come in handy. “Let’s take my SUV.”

“Are you one of those men who hates to let anyone else drive?”

He winked at her. “Busted.” Another laugh from Rowan. Oh, yeah, he could become addicted to hearing her laugh. “What type of food are you in the mood for?”

“Mexican.”

“I know the perfect place.” Behind the wheel of his SUV once again, he drove from the village and headed toward Rivergate.

“You’ve been coming into my coffee shop for months, and I still don’t know what you do for a living.”

He’d been frequenting Coffee House for ten months, three weeks, and two days. But who was counting? “I own Fortress Security. We specialize in hostage rescue and retrieval.” Among other things he couldn’t name. “We also train bodyguards and search and rescue teams.”

When she was silent a moment, Brent glanced her way. Speculation lit her eyes. “Ask,” he said gruffly.

“What did you do before you started Fortress?”

“Military. Navy.”

“Something tells me you simplified your background.” Before she could say more, her cell phone signaled an incoming call. “Sorry,” she murmured, glancing at the screen. “I need to take this. It’s my sister.”

“Go ahead.” Brent knew about phone calls at inconvenient times. He hoped his cell remained silent until he drove Rowan home after dinner. Maybe he’d talk her into a short stroll around the village. Brent wanted to know how safe her neighborhood was at night. His brow furrowed. Did she have an alarm system for her apartment? Something he’d have to investigate.

“Hi, Heather. Everything okay?”

Brent’s head whipped her direction. Something in her voice tipped him off that all was not well with her sister.

Rowan listened a few seconds, sat up. “Wait. Slow down. What’s going on, Sis?”

“Put it on speaker,” Brent said.

Without arguing, Rowan did as he ordered. “Say that again, Heather.”

“Someone’s been calling and hanging up for over two hours. In the past thirty minutes, a black van has been slowly driving down my street without stopping.”

“You’re sure it’s the same van?” Brent asked.

A gasp. “Who are you?”

“Brent Maddox. I’m a friend of Rowan’s. Answer my question, Heather. Is it the same van?”

“Yes. It has the same red racing stripe down the side.”

“Where’s Jay?” Rowan asked. “Isn’t he home?”

“I don’t know where my husband is, like usual. I’m scared, Ro. It’s just me and Alexa here.”

“Alexa is my six-year-old niece,” Rowan murmured.

“I don’t know what to do,” Heather continued.

“Call the police,” Brent said.

“I can’t,” Heather said. “Jay wouldn’t like it.”

“He’d rather have his wife and daughter in danger than put up with the cops?” What kind of stuff was Jay into? Nothing good.

“You don’t understand,” the woman muttered. She stopped, gasped again. “Oh, no,” she whispered.

“Heather, tell us what’s happening,” Rowan demanded.

“The van is back.” Her voice shook. “It’s in the driveway.”

Brent’s hands tightened around the steering wheel. “Heather, listen to me. Get Alexa and leave the house through the back door right now.”

“But I don’t have a bag packed for her.”

“We’ll pick up whatever you need. Grab Alexa and get out of that house. Take your cell phone so we can communicate with you. Don’t hang up. Just slide the phone in your pocket. Move, sugar.” He made the last an order.

While the sounds of Heather racing through the house and whispering to Alexa came through the phone, he asked Rowan, “Where does she live?”

“At the edge of Davidson County. She and Jay live in the Westhaven subdivision.”

His eyebrows soared. Nice neighborhood. Really nice. “Address?” Brent took the next exit off the interstate and began working his way back to the area. Thankfully, the after-work traffic had cleared.

Over the phone, he heard a loud crash and running footsteps. Brent pressed down on the accelerator.

“Heather, what’s happening?” Rowan asked.

“No,” Heather screamed.

The interior of his SUV filled with a loud bang.





CHAPTER TWO


“Heather?” Rowan’s hand tightened around the phone, but her screen showed the call had ended. She thought about the sounds she’d heard. Had her sister knocked something over? Rowan ignored the ball of ice forming in the pit of her stomach. Something was horribly wrong at her sister’s house.

“Call her back,” Brent said as the SUV leaped forward.

The call went straight to voice mail.

Expression grim, the Fortress CEO activated his Bluetooth and called someone named Cal Taylor.

“Who is Cal Taylor?”

“A friend. We’re ten minutes away from your sister. She needs help now.”