Deadly Game (Fortress Security #5)(76)

Rowan’s lack of sleep caught up with her. Soon, she found herself drifting. Knowing she had to stay alert, Rowan never fully dropped off. Every noise, shift in altitude, or pocket of turbulence startled her into wakefulness. Thankfully, they remained undisturbed in the bedroom sanctuary.

At some point deep in the night, the air pressure and the sound of the engines changed. Rowan’s eyelids raised. She glanced toward the door. Still closed. Wouldn’t last long.

She glanced at Alexa. Her niece’s back was to her. Better start the wake up process. Rowan began stroking Alexa’s dark, silky hair. Before long, the girl stirred.

“Aunt Ro?”

“Right here.”

“What’s happening?”

“I think we’re going to land soon.”

“Where are we?”

“I don’t know, Lex. We’ll find out soon.”

Minutes later, the lock turned and the door opened. Hard Hands stood in the doorway, gun in hand. “Let’s go, Ms. Scott.”

With Alexa’s hand in hers, Rowan returned to the cabin to find the hatch open and the stairs down. Phillips waited at the opening along with another man, this one a stranger. Dark skin, dark hair, cold gaze.

Alexa pressed close to Rowan’s side. She squeezed the girl’s hand, hoping to reassure her. She wished someone would do that for her, but Brent wasn’t here. Yet. How far away was he?

Hard Hands jabbed his gun in Rowan’s back again. “Move.”

“This way, Ms. Scott.” Phillips gestured to the opening. “We have an appointment. We don’t want to keep our host waiting.”

Their host? Rowan straightened her shoulders. Whoever the host was, if he was a friend of Phillips, he wasn’t an ally for Rowan and Alexa.

The girl glanced up at her, waiting for direction from Rowan. A slight nod and both of them walked toward the doorway. At the top of the stairs leading to the tarmac, a warm tropical breeze surprised her enough that Rowan paused.

The stranger spat out something in a foreign language, shoving her forward. More strangers scurried around the tarmac, all of them speaking Spanish.

Where had Phillips taken them?





CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR


Brent strode into the main building in Phillips’ compound with Jon, Eli, and Jake close behind. Another of Brent’s operatives angled his head toward the living room.

He registered the oversized leather furniture newer than his own. The militia gig must pay well. It was more likely the drug money paid well.

Brent focused on the man tied to a chair in the center of the room. The militia member stared straight ahead as Brent approached, though he continued tugging against his bonds. Wasted effort. The captive sported a cut over his left eye with the right rapidly swelling. He’d have a shiner in a few hours.

An operative standing behind the captive caught Brent’s attention. Brent raised an eyebrow in silent inquiry and received a head shake in response. Didn’t figure this guy would talk freely. In the end, he’d tell them everything he knew.

The mission clock continued to tick in his head. The helicopter would arrive in twenty minutes. Enough time to learn what this soldier knew.

Brent refocused on the captive. An underling, he would guess. He doubted Phillips planned on returning to this compound. Maybe took his senior soldiers with him to control Rowan and Alexa during the flight.

He signaled Jon to move behind the man. At first, the militia soldier sneered at Jon. That morphed into uncertainty and a flicker of fear when he elicited no response from the legendary sniper.

“Name?” Brent asked, voice soft.

A snort was his response.

Jon immediately popped the back of the soldier’s head.

“Hey! Knock it off,” the man groused.

Definitely no training in resisting interrogation. Made Jon’s job easier. Brent turned his head toward Roberts, the other operative.

“Judd Walters,” he supplied.

A scowl from the soldier confirmed the information.

“How long have you been with the militia, Walters?” Jon murmured.

“Long enough.”

“Good.” Eli leaned a shoulder against the wall, his attention focused on the captive. “You have information. If you’re smart, you’ll answer our questions.”

“Right.”

“Tell him what happens if he doesn’t volunteer the information.” Brent sat on the arm of the couch, his movements unhurried and as casual as he could make them. In truth, he didn’t want to sink into the depths of the couch and have to fight his way out of the softness, not with his ribs like they were. Jake had taped him well, but he still hurt. No need to make it worse.

Jon dropped his voice to just above a whisper. “We’ll get the information from you the hard way. You won’t like our methods.”

“You don’t scare me.”

Brent shook his head, crossed his arms as though nothing important pressed him and his heart didn’t threaten to burst from his chest. A clock ticked in his head, warning that time was running out. “You should be afraid, Judd.” His mouth curved into a cold smile. “We’re very good at what we do.”

Walters’ gaze darted from Brent to Eli to Roberts. No matter how he twisted, he couldn’t see Jon, an action designed to further unnerve him.