CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
Brooke waited while Asher and Caden talked. She knew Caden didn’t have to keep Asher in the loop, but he did so with the expectation that they would do the same. And besides, Caden had arranged for her “protection detail” while she was away from the security of Asher’s parents’ home.
But that detail was a limited thing, a favor from Caden’s friend, the sheriff, Mickey Daniels.
She half listened to the men talk, her mind tumbling the information over and over. When Asher touched her arm, she looked up at him.
“I’m going to take you back to my parents’ house,” he said. “Caden is going to join us and we’re going to go over—” He stopped when he realized she wasn’t listening. Brooke’s focus was on the electronic flight schedule posted on the marquee over the parking garage. “Brooke?”
“They’re flights,” she said.
“What?”
“The numbers and letters after the couples’ names. They’re flights. I think. Look. These here are the same for these three people. The next four are the same. Then the next two. And look up at the flights. TA. That could be Turkish Airlines, couldn’t it?”
“Yeah,” he said, looking over her shoulder. “It sure could.”
“They’re spreading everything out,” she said, looking from her phone to the list. “They’re rotating airports. Charlotte, Asheville, Greenville, Atlanta . . . I don’t know what that one is.”
He looked. “Charleston, South Carolina.”
“There’s a pattern. They leave from different airports in Tajikistan and land in different ones in the US. They’re only in the same airport a couple of times a month. That’s why they weren’t there today. They’re . . .” She jabbed the paper. “In Charlotte, North Carolina, today. And I bet they’re using multiple passports. Probably for each airport they go through, they’d use a different name with a matching passport. They’d go through security and everything so rarely, no one would remember them.”
He dialed Caden and filled him in while Brooke continued to think. When he hung up, he squeezed her fingers. “Good job.”
“So?”
“So Caden’s checking it out. In the meantime, we’ll go back to my parents’ house and get you settled.”
“Then?”
“We’ll figure out where we go from there.”
“Like where they’re taking the children once they land?”
“Yeah. Like that.”
“It can’t be to the same hospital, can it?”
Asher drove, heading for his parents’ house. “I don’t know. It would almost have to be.”
“Then . . . a private facility? The doctor would need a team of people to help with the surgeries. I mean, it’s not just some backwoods facility. If the doctor is involved and knows the organs are black market, then . . .”
“A private facility would make more sense.”
“But there have to be a thousand of them.”
“Maybe not a thousand, but definitely a lot.”
His phone rang and this time he answered on the car’s Bluetooth. “James here.”
“This is Caden. Just catching you up. Agents on the ground at Charlotte said the plane landed two hours ago. Everyone is gone.”
Brooke groaned and grief hit her for the children who would die unless someone found them. “Thanks, Caden.”
“We’re not giving up. I’ll keep you in the loop, but for now, I recommend you guys get someplace safe and stay there. I’m not going to be able to keep a security detail on you for much longer.”
“We’re headed back to my parents’ estate. At least for now.”
“Good plan. Talk later.”
Caden disconnected the call. “Unbelievable,” Brooke muttered.
“Well, at least this will be the last group that manages to get through that airport. There won’t be any more after this.”
“It’s not good enough. There are other airports. We have to stop them from killing anyone else.”
“I know. I agree.”
Brooke leaned her head against the window and prayed as she caught sight of Gavin behind them and a police car behind him. She closed her eyes. Spare the kids, please, God. Don’t let them die.
When she opened her eyes, Asher was pulling through the gate of his parents’ home with Gavin right behind him. Two of the cruisers left, but one stayed parked across the street. “How long will he stay there?” she asked.
“Not sure, but someone will give us a heads-up when it’s time for him to leave.”
Brooke looked at the looming house and gave an inward grimace. She hoped Nicholas wouldn’t put in any more appearances for the duration of her stay. Then again, if she could help bridge the gap between the two brothers, she’d be okay with that.
This time when the door opened, a beautiful young woman stood there smiling. Dark waves of thick hair cascaded over her left shoulder, and her blue eyes glinted with good humor and life. “I’ve been waiting on you,” she said.
Asher hugged the girl, then pulled Brooke into the marble foyer. “This is my sister, Lyric. Lyric, this is Brooke.”
“So nice to meet you.” Brooke held out a hand but found herself engulfed in a hug equal to the one Lyric had just given her brother.
“What are you doing here?” he asked when she released Brooke. “I thought you moved out.”
“I did. I’m just here to help Mum plan that charity event—raising money for care packages to soldiers overseas. If I drop in frequently enough, it keeps the parents off my case. Now, come on in the den and say hi. Mum wants to meet your . . . friend.”
Bemused, and loving the faint British accent in Lyric’s voice, Brooke followed the siblings into the large living area. Three leather sofas had been strategically placed in front of the floor-to-ceiling rock fireplace. Flames danced from the gas logs.
“This is one of the coziest rooms I’ve ever seen,” Brooke said, eyeing the flames. It truly was. She swallowed, gritted her teeth, and refused to allow the memories to overshadow the comfort of the room.
Asher looked around. “Huh. Yeah, I guess it’s nice.”
Lyric rolled her eyes and Brooke forced a smile.
“You want me to turn the flames off?” Asher’s barely there whisper in her left ear sent shivers through her.
She cleared her throat. “No, it’s okay.” Maybe. Possibly. As long as she didn’t get too close.
Here she was in the comfort of a multimillion-dollar home that made her want to gape, but no matter the beautiful surroundings, she wouldn’t take her mind off the poor orphans being driven to their deaths. Please let the police be on time.
“Brooke?”
She blinked. “Oh, sorry. I was thinking about something.”
“This is my mother, Patricia James.”
Surprisingly, Asher’s mother didn’t look anything like Brooke had envisioned. But she could see where Lyric’s blue eyes and dark hair had come from. Mrs. James was about five feet six inches tall and about twenty pounds heavier than she probably wanted to be. She smiled and held out an elegant hand to Brooke. “I wasn’t home when you arrived yesterday, but I’m so very glad to meet you.”
Her British accent was very pronounced, and Brooke was surprised Asher didn’t really have one—unless he talked about his family. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you opening your home to me.”
“Oh, luv, we’re glad to do it. Now, don’t let us keep you from whatever it is you need to be doing. You’re welcome to join Lyric and me in filling these boxes or you can simply go to your room and rest. Please, make yourself comfortable.”
“The boxes look amazing,” Brooke said. “I’m sure the soldiers who receive them will appreciate them very much. I know I would have.”
“What’s all this about, Mum?” Asher asked. “Since when did you do . . . this?”
“Since I decided that it was time to support both of my sons. I may not understand you, my dear, but I do love you.”
Asher’s throat worked and Brooke thought he might turn and leave the room. Instead, he crossed it and wrapped his mother in a bear hug that lifted her off her feet. She laughed like a teenager and swatted Asher’s solid shoulder. “Well, if I’d thought I’d get that kind of reaction, I would have done this ages ago.”
Asher set his mother on her feet and kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Mum.”
“Of course. Now, either sit down and help or scram. We’ve got work to do.”
Asher’s phone rang. “Saved by the bell,” Lyric said in a singsong voice.
“And I have a call I’d like to make too,” Brooke said. “I think I’ll go to my room and do that. Thank you again for your hospitality.”
She turned and headed out of the den, hoping she could find her way.
Asher fell into step behind her, the phone pressed to his ear. “I see. Thanks. Yeah, I’ll tell her. Bye.”
He hung up only to have it ring once more. He ignored it for the moment, his jaw tight, eyes hard.
“What is it?” Brooke asked, forgetting she’d planned to tease him about calling his mother Mum.
“Mario Ricci died about an hour ago.”
She gasped. “What? Killed?”
“No. Succumbed to his wounds.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. I think. Mostly because I wanted to know what he knew.” His phone buzzed the last time before it would go to voice mail. “You need to get that?”
“Yeah.” He swiped the screen and Brooke found her way to the kitchen. The stairs were familiar and she headed toward them, pulling her phone from her pocket. She had text messages from Heather and Kat just checking on her and one from her sister, Ronie, saying she was in France and thinking she might make it a permanent thing.
Inside her room, Brooke answered them, then collapsed onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. She called Sarah Denning’s number and grimaced when it went to voice mail. “Sarah, call me. I need to ask you something.” She hung up, then closed her eyes to pray.
The next morning, there was still no word about the missing orphans or the people who’d flown with them from Tajikistan. Asher looked at the security footage from the airport Caden had shared with him. Footage that had been released to all major news networks with still shots of each of the six faces. A manhunt was in progress, and they needed the public’s help to locate the couple and four children.
An 800 number flashed at the bottom of the screen. This was the hot topic in the news, and Asher was glad to see it there. He could only pray it worked.
He finished the last bite of eggs he’d found under a warming light in the kitchen. Lyric sat opposite him at the table.
“If you’re going to keep coming home, what’s the point in having your own place?” he asked her.
“I like having it. It’s my escape pad. My happy place.” She tossed him a smile. “But I also like to see you, so I thought I’d pop over and fix you breakfast. I know you never skip it.”
“Nope. I don’t know how you turned into such a fabulous cook when Mum can’t even find the pot, much less boil water.”
Lyric grinned. “I took lessons.”
“From who?”
“A girl at school. Her dad was a professional chef, and she picked up a few things and passed them on to me.”
“I’m just glad I get to benefit.”
“What are your plans for the day?”
“Well,” he said, “I think I’m taking a young man fishing.” Captain Newell had texted and said PJ was acting out, throwing things and threatening to run away.
“Who?” Lyric asked.
“My former captain’s wife was killed a couple of days ago. His son, PJ, needs a break.” Asher could only hope he was doing the right thing in saying yes. Sounded like he needed to talk to someone like Brooke more than him.
“What about Brooke?”
“She’s going to stay here until I get back.”
“Very good. I’ll entertain her with your baby pictures.”
Asher narrowed his eyes. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Wouldn’t I?”
“You know I’ll get even.”
“Hmm. I’ll think on it and decide if it’s worth it.”
“Lyric—”
“Good morning, you two,” Brooke said from behind him.
He looked over his shoulder, and when his eyes landed on her, longing hit him, taking him by surprise. “Good morning.” Yep, the more he looked at her, the more the feeling grew. He’d like to see her every morning. Have breakfast with her. Watch over her. Wake up next to her. Take care of her. Do life with her. If only—
“Ash?” Lyric prompted.
He cleared his throat. “Sit down and have a bite. Food’s under the covers, thanks to Lyric.”
Brooke grabbed her food and slid into the chair next to him. While she dug into the restaurant-worthy fare, he inhaled the scent of her freshly washed hair. Something vanilla with a hint of peaches. He jabbed his food with his fork. What was wrong with him? He needed to get it together or she was going to have him carrying on like a besotted fool. More so than he already was doing, if the look on Lyric’s face was any indication. He crossed his eyes at her like he used to do when they were children.
She gaped, then giggled.
Brooke’s head lifted and her brows rose as her gaze bounced between them. Lyric dropped a kiss on the top of his head and breezed past him and out of the kitchen.
“Your sister is a doll,” Brooke said. “I really like her.”
“She likes you too. But that’s not hard.”
The gentle smile she tossed his way wasn’t helping him ignore the fact that he was losing his heart to her. “How’d you sleep?” he asked.
“I didn’t much. You?”
“No, not much. I kept waiting for Caden or someone to call and say they’d found the children, but no one did.”
“Same here.” She stopped eating and pushed her plate away. After a sip of coffee, she dropped her head into her hands. “I want to do something to help.”
“You have. You figured out the airports pattern.”
“But sitting around here is driving me nuts. I want to do more.”
“You’re a fixer, aren’t you?”
She looked up at him through her fingers. “How’d you guess?”
“Your choice of profession might have something to do with it.”
“I called Sarah last night.”
“And?”
“She didn’t answer and hasn’t called me back yet. I’m worried.”
He slid an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him. “Caden is keeping close tabs on her. As for the orphans, they’ll find them. Are you going to finish your breakfast?”
“I heard there was food in here,” Nicholas said from the doorway.
Asher shut his eyes for a brief moment at his brother’s voice but didn’t release Brooke from his embrace. “Good morning, Nicholas.” He couldn’t think why Nicholas would be at the house so early but wasn’t about to ask. He stood and carried his and Brooke’s plates to the sink.
Nicholas fixed his plate and sat at the table. “Dad asked me to stop by. Said he had some client he wanted me to meet. Is he here yet?”
“I don’t think so.”
Nicholas turned his attention to Brooke. “Dad’s hired extra security and had a metal detector installed at the back entrance to his office.”
“Oh my,” Brooke said with a sigh.
“You’re really worth all of this trouble?”
She coughed to cover a small laugh—and maybe a wince. “Apparently, but I was hoping it wasn’t going to be a lot of trouble.”
“You’re no trouble, Brooke,” Asher said with a glare at his brother. “How about we head into the library?” She stood and Asher took her arm.
“And leave me to eat alone?” his brother asked. “Thanks so much.”
Brooke hesitated.
“I think you’ll be all right,” Asher said. “Better chow down, you don’t want to miss Dad’s client.”
He led her out of the kitchen, down the hall, and into a small room lined with bookshelves. Brooke gaped. “Good grief, how many books are in here?”
“At least a couple thousand. They’re mostly Lyric’s.”
“What an amazing room. I could stay in here forever and never be bored.”
“So, listen,” Asher said. “I’m going to take PJ fishing. The captain said he’s been having a hard time and thought I could help. Here’s the text he sent me.” He held out his phone so she could read it.
He’s angry at me for not being here when his mother was killed. He’s blaming me, said if I’d been here, it wouldn’t have happened. I’m at my wits’ end and can’t get through to him. I know it’s a lot to ask but was wondering if you would try while I go pick out a coffin.
“Oh, that’s sad. I’m glad you’re taking the time to be with him.”
“Are you going to be all right staying in this house with my kinda crazy family?”
“I’ll be fine. I’m going to focus on trying to get Sarah on the phone again. I really want to talk to her.”
“Of course. And I’ll text and check in with you while I’m gone—which will be early afternoon.”
She studied him. “The waiting and helpless feeling are driving you as crazy as they are me, huh?”
He swiped a hand down his chin. “Beyond. I feel like I need to be out there with Caden or . . . something.”
“You’re doing what you need to do. Go make a young man feel important and distract him so he’s not missing his mother so much.”
“You’re sure? I feel like you’ll be perfectly safe here, but I don’t want to leave you if you’re at all uncomfortable with the idea.”
“I’m a big girl, Asher. I can handle it.”
He nodded. “Okay. But you’ll stay here, right?”
“Of course.”
“Call me if you need anything.”
“Asher . . . go.”
“Right.”
He kissed her forehead and went to his room to gather his things. When he returned, he found her in the library, sitting in the corner, book in her lap, phone in her hand.
“What is it?”
“I think Sarah tried to call me. It went through, but then dropped. I’m just waiting on her to try again.”
“Okay, I’ll be back soon. I’ve got my phone on and the house is secured.”
“I know. Bye.” She set down the phone, then looked up at him again. “Hey, if you see Monica, tell her to give me a call if she wants to talk more. She seemed interested yesterday, but I think her father spooked her from saying anything.”
“I will.”
Asher left. In the car, he texted Caden.
Anything?
Caden’s quick reply dinged.
No, we’re still looking for them. No luck on finding the person who might have recognized Brooke from the pictures in the paper, but we’re still hoping the director will start talking.
Asher started his truck and put it in Drive. One last look at his parents’ home convinced him he was doing the right thing, that Brooke was safe behind the walls and gates. He pressed the gas and headed to Greenville.