Deadly Game (Fortress Security #5)(9)
“Glad I don’t have to work with them,” he muttered and handed Taylor the flashlight.
A roll of his eyes, and Taylor stepped away from them, cell phone pressed to his ear.
“I want to keep looking for Alexa, but I also know Heather will be frantic with worry. I don’t want her at the hospital by herself.”
“Come on.” He led her to his SUV and helped her inside. “We’ve been looking for Alexa for almost an hour. The cops are covering this neighborhood, looking for her. They have a better chance of finding her than we do because of sheer volume.” Brent cupped her cheek with his palm. “Zane should be getting back to us soon. In the meantime, you can give your sister some badly needed moral support.”
She pressed her face against his hand for a moment. “You’re right. I need to be with Heather.”
With a nod, Brent dropped his hand and closed the door. His gaze scanned the area, taking in the buzz of activity and crowd of neighbors craning their necks to see if they could glean some tidbit of information to share.
His hands clenched. Where was Alexa?
CHAPTER FOUR
Rowan hurried into the emergency room entrance with Brent. The woman behind the desk glanced up.
“May I help you?”
“Heather Maxwell. She was brought in with a gunshot wound. I’m her sister.”
“Give me a moment to find out where she is.” The woman grabbed her handset and placed a call. After a moment, she hung up and said to Rowan, “Go through the double doors and turn left. There’s a family waiting room. Your sister is in surgery right now. When it’s complete, the doctor will talk to you.”
She and Brent walked to the waiting room, but Rowan was too antsy to stay seated. She hopped up and started pacing the small, utilitarian space.
“Rowan.”
When she turned, he was right there, less than six inches away. How had he moved that silently? “I can’t sit still. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, sweetheart. Adrenaline has your system revved.” He moved in closer, placed his hands on her upper arms. “We didn’t have a chance to eat dinner. Are you hungry?”
The very thought of eating made her stomach do a slow roll. Okay, food was not on the menu for a while. Rowan shook her head. “I’m thirsty, though.”
“You have a preference? I feel it only fair to warn you that you’ll be stuck with vending machine fare. If I were you, I wouldn’t risk the coffee. Trust me, it’s nothing like yours.”
A spurt of amusement shot through her. “Anything carbonated is fine.” How did he know so much about vending machine coffee?
“I’ll be back in a minute.”
After he left, Rowan resumed her pacing. Adrenaline, huh? She felt as though she had enough energy to power her house for a month. The question was, how would she feel after the adrenaline left her system? She’d probably crash with a vengeance. Hopefully, Heather would be out of surgery and assigned a room before that happened.
A minute later, Brent returned with two bottles of soft drinks. “Here.” He handed her the green bottle. “Sugar to combat the shock and no caffeine.”
“Thanks.” She broke the seal and guzzled a quarter of the liquid. “You aren’t having problems with adrenaline?”
He shook his head. “Compared to what I experienced in the military, this is nothing.”
Rowan thought about his statement while she paced. She eyed him as he lounged back in a hard plastic seat, looking comfortable in this utilitarian environment and not the least bothered by the circumstances. Of course, it wasn’t his relative who was even now in surgery. “You didn’t serve on a Navy ship, did you?”
“Why do you say that?”
“I can’t see you as a sailor. And after watching you in action this evening, I’d say you’re a Navy SEAL. Am I right?”
His lips curved. “Good guess.”
Nice. Really nice. She’d seen documentaries on the training of the SEALs and concluded those guys were modern-day supermen. “How long did you serve?”
“Fifteen years.”
“A long time for dangerous work.”
“I felt a million years old by the time I resigned my commission.” His cell phone signaled an incoming message. Brent glanced at the readout and placed a call. He touched the speaker function. “What do you have, Z?”
“Video feed. Have your laptop nearby?”
“In the SUV. I’m at the hospital with Rowan. Give me the abbreviated version.”
“Got footage of a dark-colored van with a racing stripe in the drive of the Maxwell place. Two guys dressed in black with masks got out of the vehicle and kicked in the front door. A different man races out the back and is chased down by one of the masked men. A couple minutes later, they leave the house, this time carrying a child.”
“Was she fighting them?” Rowan asked.
A pause, then, “How are you holding up, sugar?”
“I’m okay. What about Alexa?”
“She didn’t move a muscle that I could see.”
“Drugged?” Brent asked.
“That’s my guess. I don’t know much about kids, boss, but I’ve never seen one that still, especially if they’re being taken some place they don’t want to go.”