By the time they arrived at the funeral home, the chapel was full. Heather had a handful of people paying respects to her. Only a handful of Maxwell’s employees showed up. Guess the businessman hadn’t won the loyalty of his workers. Not a surprise if he treated his employees with the disdain he’d shown to his wife and daughter. Many of Rowan’s friends and customers were there to support her. Their presence said volumes about Rowan’s ability to connect with people and her genuine interest in them.
Throughout the service, Brent kept an eye on the doors, windows, and those in the audience, as did his operatives. Through his ear piece, he tracked security check-ins. So far, no sign of Carstairs or the kidnappers. Brent prayed they stayed away. Scores of people would die if someone attacked this soft target.
Thankfully, the service progressed without incident. Some tears, much laughter as Rowan and two others shared memories of the Maxwells. At the conclusion of the service, attendees filed past Rowan and offered words of condolence and many hugs. Finally, they went to their cars for the burial procession, leaving Rowan, Brent, and the Fortress operatives.
The funeral director approached. “We’re ready to proceed to the cemetery, Ms. Scott.”
Her hand clasped in his, Brent walked with Rowan to the SUV. In the back seat, he gathered her into his arms, grateful she had a few minutes to regroup before saying a final goodbye to her sister.
With his cheek pressed to the top of her head, he held her in silence. By gradual degrees, she softened against him as her muscles loosened.
“Thank you for being with me today,” she whispered.
“I wish I could do more, baby.” He lifted their entwined hands and kissed her knuckles.
When they arrived at the cemetery, Eli parked a short distance away from the hearses.
“One more time, sweetheart,” Brent murmured.
“Let’s get this over with before I lose my courage.”
“You amaze me, Rowan Scott. I’ve never known any woman as strong as you.” Only a strong woman would tolerate his constant on-call status, the danger, the secrecy. He believed Rowan was the right woman for him.
“Wait until there aren’t prying eyes watching. I think I’m due for a meltdown.”
“I’ll be here when you face the storm, love.”
She raised her head, unasked questions in her gaze. Brent needed to guard his words. Otherwise, he’d scare off the woman of his dreams by telling Rowan he loved her too soon.
He helped Rowan from the vehicle. She gripped his hand as the caskets were unloaded and carried over the hilly terrain to the grave site. Once Rowan’s friends gathered, the minister gave a few last words of comfort and led in prayer. And then the service was over.
Slowly the mourners returned to their vehicles and drove away, leaving Rowan to stand beside her sister’s casket. Brent’s operatives moved away to give Rowan privacy.
Brent wrapped his arms around Rowan while scanning the area. His skin crawled, a sure sign they were under surveillance. He glanced at Jon who gave a slight nod. He felt the eyes on them as well.
He took another minute to survey their surroundings. A slight movement to his right in the tree line caught his attention. The figure was dressed in black and mostly hidden behind a stand of trees. The figure must have noticed Brent’s attention was focused that direction because he or she pulled back into the trees and vanished from sight.
The crawling sensation persisted. More than one observer, then. “Jon, at least one in the trees on the right,” he murmured.
“Saw him. There’s another on the left behind the big stone angel. Three more behind us.”
“That we can see,” Eli muttered.
Brent turned Rowan more fully into his arms and bent so his mouth was beside her ear. “Baby, I don’t want to rush you, but we need to leave.”
“Why?” Her voice sounded thick.
Oh, man. She was crying. Rowan’s distress gutted him. “We’re under surveillance. You’re not safe here.”
With a shuddering breath, she nodded and stepped away from the shelter of his arms. Rowan laid her hand on Heather’s casket and murmured, “I’ll find Alexa and bring her home. She’ll never doubt I love her. I’ll do my best to raise her as you would have wanted.”
Her cell phone chimed. She checked the screen, tilting her phone so he could read the message.
A ball of ice formed in Brent’s gut. The kidnappers wanted Rowan to come alone to the Wilson mausoleum on the west side of the cemetery with the records. “I go with you or no deal.”
“They won’t like that,” Rowan said as she sent the message.
“If they want the information, they’ll cooperate.”
Seconds later, a blistering response came. Rowan flinched. “Definitely not happy.”
“But they agreed,” Brent pointed out. “I won’t let you do this alone.”
“You said things never go according to plan.”
“They don’t. We lay plans and adjust on the fly.” He slid one arm around Rowan and urged her toward the meeting place.
“I assume you plan missions.”
He snorted. “We have multiple plans for every mission. When Plan A fails, you go to Plan B, then C, D, and so on.”
Jon and Eli started to fall into step with them. Brent held up his hand. “The kidnappers contacted Rowan and want to meet her on the west side of the cemetery with Maxwell’s records. Circle around behind these clowns. If everything goes south, we need one alive.”
“Copy that,” Eli murmured. He and Jon split up and moved in opposite directions away from the rendezvous site.
“Won’t they see Eli and Jon coming?” Rowan whispered as they resumed their journey. “There’s still plenty of sunlight.”
“Lots of cover for them.”
The closer they came to the meeting place, the tighter she gripped his hand. Brent located the right mausoleum. He scanned the area, scowled.
