Page 67 of Ransom for His Secret Son

Brody tapped out a quick message to his mom, telling her to come to the nursery. Only a couple of minutes later, Sandra hurried in, her eyes flicking between him and Remi, immediately picking up on the tension.

“I couldn’t sleep, and I heard a text come in. What’s wrong?” she asked, her gaze shifting to the babies.

Brody hated the worry in her voice, but there was no sugarcoating this. “There’s another threat. I need you to stay here with the boys. The house will be on lockdown and heavily guarded, but I want you to stay away from the windows.”

Sandra’s face tightened. “Brody, you’re scaring me.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, and he meant it. “It can’t be helped.”

She stared at him a moment, then let out a shaky breath. “Okay.”

He kissed her forehead before he stepped back so that Remi could pass the baby over. Sandra cradled him close, swaying.

Brody went to the crib and pressed a kiss to his other son’s tiny forehead, his chest clenching as the little boy slept on, blissfully unaware of the danger still looming over them.

He straightened, his jaw set. “We’ll be back.”

Sandra didn’t ask where they were going, didn’t demand explanations. She just nodded again, her faith in him absolute.

Remi was already moving, and Brody followed her out of the room, pulling the door shut behind them. They climbed the stairs quickly, heading for his office, where he kept the weapons and gear they’d need for what was coming next.

Once he was in his office, he went straight to the storage cabinet, grabbing the two Kevlar vests. He tossed one to Remi, who caught it and strapped it on.

“Backup weapon?” she asked.

Brody pulled open the drawer containing his extra firearms, selecting a compact Glock for her. He passed it over, along with an extra magazine. “Take this.”

She checked the chamber and tucked it into her waistband, then grabbed spare ammo, securing it in her pockets.

Brody did the same, sliding an extra clip into his vest, then checking his rifle. Everything about this felt like preparing for battle, and in a way it was.

“We should have snipers on the perimeter,” Remi said. “Hidden support. If Tarrant sees a uniform, he’ll start shooting.”

Brody nodded, his mind already running through strategy. “I’ll have deputies take up positions near the site. No visible presence, just eyes on the ground in case this turns into a bloodbath.”

But he prayed it didn’t come down to that. Yes, Tarrant had called the shots for this meeting, but that didn’t mean the man was going to win.

Brody made the call to Tarrant, and he put it on Speaker. “I’ve done what you demanded,” Brody said.

“Good,” Tarrant replied. “I’ve picked the spot. The construction site of that fancy little inn near your ranch. Should be easy for you to find.”

Brody clenched his jaw. That place had been under construction for months. A half-built structure with plenty of places for an ambush.

“I need proof of life,” Brody demanded.

A second later, his phone dinged with an incoming image. He opened it, his stomach twisting at what he saw. Maria, tied to a support beam, her face pale with terror.

“Get everyone here fast,” Tarrant said, his voice laced with that sickening amusement. “The first bullet goes in her in thirty-nine minutes. Ticktock.”

And the line went dead.

Chapter Eighteen

Remi tightened the straps of her vest, rolling her shoulders to adjust to the weight. She couldn’t shake the unease spearing through her, but she pushed it down.

Worry wouldn’t help them now. Action would. And action meant stopping Tarrant here and now. The man had to be stopped and locked away.

Or dead.