Page 30 of Stolen Faith

Izabel took several deep breaths, though it was difficult to get as much air as she needed, thanks to the tight boning in her evening gown.

“Rowan,” she said softly, studying him closely. “Are you okay? Brennon, can you reach him?”

Brennon was already attempting to scoot himself closer, but he’d been secured with that longer rope to keep him from getting to them. “Fuck,” Brennon cursed in frustration. “Rowan.”

“I’m fine,” Rowan replied, though there was a tension around his eyes and mouth that made it obvious he was lying.

“No. You’re not,” Izabel insisted, wiggling her wrists, wishing she was strong enough to break the zip-ties. “Is anything broken? God, you could be bleeding internally.”

“Izabel, I’m fine,” he said again, stronger this time. He was a convincing actor, but she’d witnessed the beating. The man had been completely unhinged, furious at a level she didn’t understand.

“Why?” she asked, her confusion growing. “Why was he so angry?”

* * *

Rowan sighed heavily.

“Rowan,” Izabel prodded. “Why did that man come after you like that?”

“I didn’t go easily,” he said, aware his answer wouldn’t satisfy Izabel.

She lifted one eyebrow, an unspoken command to keep talking.

“When they broke into your condo, I put up a fight.” He wasn’t sure how much Izabel had seen after he’d stashed her and an unconscious Brennon under the couch that had meant to serve as a shelter. She’d been tranquilized while trying to crawl to the security panel, but she hadn’t made it far. He’d been too distracted by the fight to notice exactly when she’d been hit by the dart.

Izabel’s brow was creased, and it appeared she was trying to recall exactly what had happened. “I remember Brennon being shot with the dart. I pulled it out, but—”

“I went down before I knew what hit me,” Brennon interjected.

Rowan got the sense he was slightly embarrassed about that.

“None of us heard them come in.” Rowan hated that Brennon felt guilt for any part of the kidnapping. “I fought back, but…” He shook his head, overwhelmed by an acute sense of failure.

“We were outnumbered,” Izabel pointed out.

That was no excuse. “There were only five of them.”

“Only five,” Brennon snorted, as if Rowan had told a joke.

“And only two of them had any real training. Those were the two I should have focused on, but I’d made a bad call, went after the wrong man.”

“Went after?” Brennon asked. At the same time Izabel asked, “How could you tell only two of them had training?”

Rowan chose to respond to Izabel’s question. It was the easier of the two to answer. “By looking at them.”

Brennon’s raised brows said that wasn’t enough of an answer.

“The way they were dressed, it looked like they were playing dress-up as soldiers. A costume, not a uniform.”

“The same three who were just here?” Brennon asked.

“The one in charge, the one with the cast, was definitely at your condo.”

“So Tweedledee and Tweedledum might be new,” Izabel murmured.

Brennon snickered at her nicknames for them. “Accurate.”

Rowan continued, “I think broken-arm guy—”

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