Brent dropped into Rowan’s chair. “Ketamine? The drug used on animals?”
“That’s the one. Cheap to make and very profitable to sell.”
“Explains why Maxwell’s business made such a dramatic turnaround from one week to the next. Got a lead on who he was in business with?”
“Guess.”
Brent stilled, gut churning. “Navarro?”
“Give the man a cigar.”
This situation just kept spiraling downward. “How did Maxwell hook up with them?”
“One of his good pals introduced him to the head honcho while they were on a business trip to Mexico two years ago.”
Right around the time Rowan started Coffee House. Explained why the rest of the legit business owners were struggling at the time Maxwell was reaping huge profits. “Have you had a chance to research Maxwell’s associates?”
“Not yet. Had to run down information for St. Claire. Figured his search took priority since he’s headed into hostile territory with his team.”
“Are they still on U.S. soil?” Brent hoped not. The way things were heating up in Chihuahua province, St. Claire’s team wouldn’t have much time to do reconnaissance and plan a rescue.
“In the air. They should be landing at a private airstrip within the hour.”
He glanced at his watch. “Why the delay?”
“Accident on the highway prevented St. Claire from reaching the airport on time plus a delay before taking off. Heavy air traffic and a bad storm.”
“Rowan remembered the names of two of Maxwell’s associates.”
“Excellent. Who are they?”
“Nolan White and Toby Minter. I want to know everything about them, including how long they were associated with Maxwell and where I can find them. If the Navarro cartel is after Rowan, I need to know.”
“Copy that.”
He sat back in Rowan’s chair, sighed. Not good. Too much activity was centered in Navarro territory. What were the chances the connection to the cartel was a coincidence? Nil. How fast would the lieutenants and head of the cartel connect Rowan to Brent?
His cell phone signaled an incoming call. Brent checked the screen. “Mr. President.”
“Tell me your team is on the ground.”
“Within the hour, sir. They’ll need to do some recon before they’re ready for the extraction.”
“Understood. Anything else I need to know?”
“The Navarro cartel is probably the group targeting the Alvarez family.”
“How do you know this? There are several strong cartels around that area.”
“Lucero is in the center of the Navarro stronghold, Mr. President. They’re also well known for targeting families to pressure officials of Mexico and other countries to cooperate with their agenda.”
“You know these people?”
“We’ve tangled with them before. They hate Fortress, sir.”
“I see. Did you run into them in your military days?”
“Yes, sir. They’re not fond of the SEALs, either.”
Martin chuckled. “I can imagine.”
Brent hesitated a moment, then said, “Sir, this situation is becoming more complicated. I have a personal connection with this mission.”
“Explain.”
“A man named Jay Maxwell and his wife, Heather, were murdered two nights ago here in Nashville. Heather was the sister of the woman I’m dating.” Brent didn’t know how else to explain the relationship, despite the fact he hadn’t managed to take Rowan on even one date. So far. He intended to change that as soon as people stopped tracking, chasing, or shooting at them. He looked forward to learning about the woman behind the sunny smile and beautiful eyes. “Heather and Jay’s six-year-old daughter has been kidnapped and now it appears the same people are after Rowan.”
“Why?”
“Heather left a flash drive in Rowan’s safe keeping. One of my operatives decoded the file which contains two lists. One is a list of militia leaders with their own agenda.”
“And the other list?”
“International terrorists. We’ve encountered a few of them, Mr. President.”
“How dangerous are these men, Brent?”
“I’d kill them on sight, sir.”
“What’s the connection between the militia groups and the international terrorists?”
“Not sure yet. We’re working on that.”
“And the connection between the Maxwells and the cartel?”
“What else? Drugs. All the big ones plus Ketamine.”
A pause, then, “Hold on, Brent.” A moment later, the president returned. “I have to go. Keep me informed of any further developments or new intel.”
“Yes, sir.”
Brent slid his phone deep into his pocket as a light tap sounded on the door.
Rowan poked her head inside. “Okay to come in? I need my laptop to place orders.”
“Of course. Thanks for allowing me to use your office.” He crossed to stand in front of her. “You look tired, babe.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Comes from not sleeping much for two nights.” Her gaze dimmed. “I don’t know how Heather did this. She told me of nights when my niece couldn’t sleep because she was sick. I usually volunteered to spend a night to let Heather sleep.”
“How did that go over?”
“About like you’d expect. Jay wouldn’t hear of it. He said that was Heather’s job.”
Brent scowled. “He never helped out, did he?”
A sad laugh escaped. “Not hardly. Jay made Heather move out of the master suite so she was closer to Alexa. He didn’t want to be bothered with his own daughter crying in the night or waking up with a nightmare. Guess he figured since Heather didn’t work, she could handle being awake all night and all day. How will I handle nights like these with Alexa? I have to work, Brent.”
“You’ll figure it out one day at a time, baby. Remember, you aren’t alone. I want to help.”
Rowan’s cell phone signaled an incoming call. She checked the screen. Her face lost all trace of color.
“Rowan? What’s wrong?”
She opened her mouth to respond, couldn’t.
Brent clasped her upper arms. “Sweetheart, talk to me.”
Instead of answering, Rowan turned the phone so he could see the name on the screen. Heather.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Rowan’s body trembled as she held up the phone for Brent to see. Someone was calling her with Heather’s phone. The kidnappers? That was the only thing that made sense. Heather had called her with her cell phone right before she was shot. In the craziness following Heather’s death, Rowan hadn’t asked if Detective Taylor had found her sister’s phone. The homicide detective didn’t need to use Heather’s phone to contact Rowan.
Her gaze
