Chapter Fifteen

~ Scotty ~

I didn't like leaving Beck behind, but I knew making contact with Mrs. Agnes was important. The nurse that was in charge of my father's care was bought and paid for by my stepmother.

She was just as much of a bitch as Cynthia was. She'd report us in a hot second and not feel an ounce of guilt about it. We needed her taken out of the picture so we would have the time to get my father out of that house.

As soon as I reached the farmer's market, I purchased a cold drink and found a seat on the sidelines. I needed to stay out of the way while I watched for Mrs. Agnes to show up. If anyone was watching, I wanted them to think I was just hanging out.

I was allowed to do that.

For now.

After finishing my drink, I tossed my cup in the garbage and then slid my hands into my pockets and began to slowly stroll through the marketplace. I knew Mrs. Agnes had to be here somewhere. I just needed to find her.

I sauntered past a few more stalls, picking up a couple of things here and there. One of the things I really liked about this farmer's market was that it wasn't just produce and flowers. There was a wide array of artists' booths, everything from food to trinkets to pottery.

I almost crowed with relief when I spotted the cook. I quickly searched the area around her to make sure she was alone before approaching her. I stopped beside her and reached down to pick up a small watermelon.

"Do you know how to tell if a watermelon is ripe?" I asked. "I can never figure it out."

"Oh, sure," she replied as she started to turn. "You just—Master Maxwell?"

I instantly scowled. "None of that master crap, Mrs. Agnes." She had been a substitute mother to me when mine had died, tucking me in every night, treating my injuries, and listening to my worries.

She should never address me that way.

"Just call me Scotty, or Maxwell, if that will make you more comfortable."

"Very, well, Maxwell."

I still didn't like it, but it was better than master.

"I need your help."

Mrs. Agnes raised an eyebrow.

"I have a plan to get my father out of that house, but I need the nurse out of the way. Can you help me with that?"

The older woman pursed her lips as she stared up at me. I wasn't sure what she was looking for, but she might have found it because she finally nodded her head.

"Can I assume you won't be going back to your apartment?"

"Nope." I couldn't tell her where I was going, but I could tell her that much. "The last time I saw my father, he was lucid enough to tell me to run and that's exactly what I am going to do. I'm just going to take him with me."

"When do I need to do this?"

"I'm supposed to be having dinner with Cynthia at my fiancée's house tomorrow night at seven. Some friends of mine will come to get him while I'm there."

My jaw dropped when her upper lip curled back and a look of utter disgust crossed her face. I'd only ever seen it once before, when she'd accidently eaten an anchovy pizza.

"Fiancée, my lily white butt. That woman is just as bad as madam. The only reason she wants to marry you is because she's the successor for Mrs. Prescott. They want to keep the company in their hands so they can keep the money coming in. I have no doubt once you're married and she's made CEO after madam retires, you'll suffer the same fate as your father."

Wait...what?

"My father had a stroke."

Mrs. Agnes huffed. "Yes, he did, but that was years ago. While he might have suffered some aftereffects from the stroke, I doubt being a virtual vegetable is one of them." She squared her shoulders and stared bullets into my eyes. "I fully believe his condition was helped along by Mrs. Prescott."

Shock stole my breath, but not my words. "You think Cynthia did something to my father to keep him practically comatose?"

"I do," she replied. "And you can fire me for that if you wish to, but I've kept my mouth shut long enough. Someone had to say something to you. That woman is doing something to your father. I'd bet my retirement on it."

"I believe you," I was finally able to say. "That's one of the reasons I want to get him out of there. I can't stand to see him suffer anymore."

"I hope you aren't planning on marrying that woman, either."

I smirked as I leaned down to whisper to her. "Bigamy is against the law."

It was fun seeing the shock in Mrs. Agnes's eyes.

"You're married?"

"I am." My smirk grew into a wide grin. "His name is Beck and he's beautiful."

"Does he love you?"

"Almost as much as I love him."

"That's fine then." Mrs. Agnes smiled as she patted my arm. "I'll make sure the nurse is asleep by seven o'clock. Tell your friends not to be late."

"Thank you." There was no way to explain to this woman how much her words meant to me. Not only had she readily accepted the fact that I had married a man, but she had been concerned enough to make sure it wasn't a marriage of convenience. That we actually loved each other.

This woman was one in a million.

"What are you going to do once we're gone?" I asked.

Mrs. Agnes got a funny little smile on her face. "I think I'm going to retire."

"Well, if you ever find yourself in New York City, give me a call."

Her smile grew. "I just might do that."

As I watched her walk off, I knew that I would miss her and hoped that she would call if she was in the area.

Once she disappeared into the crowd, I turned on my heel and started heading in the other direction. I pulled my burner phone out of my pocket as I walked and dialed Jake.

"Hey, man, we're on."

"She agreed to help us?" Jake asked.

"Yep." No sense nodding. Jake couldn't see me. "She said she'd make sure the nurse was out of the way by seven o'clock."

"Good."

"I'll admit that I'm a bit nervous about all of this, Jake. What if something goes wrong?" All sorts of scenarios were going through my head, none of them good.

"What can go wrong, Scotty?" Jake asked. "You're already married to Beck so they can't force you to marry Julia, and you have all the paperwork giving you full control over your father and his company. Even if they try and stop us, there is nothing they can do. One call to the police will stop them."

I didn't think it would be that easy, but I was willing to give Jake the benefit of a doubt.

"How's Beck?" I asked to move the conversation to something else. I hated feeling like a coward, but twenty plus years of conditioning had made me that way.

"He's quite the interesting guy."

I certainly thought so, but why did Jake?

"Why do you say that?" I asked.

"For someone that works as a bartender, he's pretty damn smart. He found a hole in our plan."

I stopped walking, my gut clenching. "What hole?"

"Well, Chelsea is going to be here at the airport and Beck is going to be with me and your father once we get him free, but how are we going to get you out of there? If your stepmother gets even a hint that something is going on, she will probably try something, so we need to have a plan in place to get you out of there before she does."

That didn't sound so bad.

"So, what's the solution?"

"Three things, actually. One, we're going to put a tracker in you so if they do try something, we can find you. Two, I have a burner phone for you. I want you to keep it on you at all times. If they try anything, excuse yourself and go to the bathroom and call me immediately."

"I already have a burner phone," I explained. "That's what I am calling you on now."

"I want you to have a fresh clean burner phone just in case."

"Okay, and three?"

"We'll have someone waiting outside the Beckerman house in case you need to make a break for it."

"So, should I meet you somewhere then?"

"No, we can do this in the morning when we all meet up. The tracker doesn't take more than a few minutes to put it. I have one as does my husband. It's so that if I ever get kidnapped, my people can find me."

"Damn, Jake."

Maybe I should see if Beck can have one, too?

"Do you remember my roommate Norris Teller? Geeky guy that was always being bullied?"

"Yeah, sure." I always felt bad for the things he'd had to deal with while we were at the university. It hadn't been an easy time for him.

"He works for me," Jake stated. "He created these little trackers. It has a five-hundred-mile radius. It also reads heart rate, blood pressure, and temperature so that those searching for me can tell what kind of condition I'm in."

"Yeah, sounds good." I wasn't sure how I felt about having a tracker placed on me, but if it could assist Jake in finding me if Cynthia pulled anything, I wasn't going to argue about it. "Can you tell Beck I'm headed back to Chelsea's place?"

"Actually, we're getting you all a hotel room near the airport. If Cynthia is sending someone after the both of you, she probably knows about Chelsea. Better to play it safe."

Once again, Cynthia's crap was interfering in my plans.

"Does it have room service?"

"Of course," Jake replied.

"Then I'm in. I'll head back that way."

"We're at the Marriot," Jake said. "I'll have someone wait for you in the lobby and bring you up. I don't want your name listed in the registry."

My brow furrowed as I took in Jake's words. "You think Cynthia will be looking for me at hotels?"

"If she has someone watching your place, Beck's place, and Chelsea's place, and none of you go back to your homes, then yes. If we're lucky, she still thinks you're out of town."

"That would be nice."

It would certainly make my life easier.

"I'll see you soon," I said before hanging up and making my way toward my car. As I started down the block where I had parked it, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

I glanced around, but couldn't spot anything out of place, or anyone, but I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was waiting and watching.

I turned around and went back the way I came as quickly as I could. As soon as I turned the corner, I broke into a sprint, running several blocks before I slowed down.

Once I felt I was sufficiently far enough away, I hailed a taxi and told the driver to take me to the airport. I sent Jake off a text letting him know I thought someone had been watching my car and that I was currently in a taxi on the way to the airport.

He suggested I get out a couple of blocks away to keep anyone from having a record of me getting out in front of the Marriot. I agreed and slid my phone back into my pocket.

I had the feeling Jake had done something like this before.

When we were close to the airport, I had the driver let me out at a convenience store. I paid him and then waited for him to leave before I started walking, paying close attention to my surroundings.

I almost cried with relief when the Marriot Hotel came into view. I hurried as I made my way inside. Jake said he'd have someone waiting for me, but I wasn't expecting it to be the man himself. Jake flashed me a smile as he approached me and held out his hand. I frowned as I shook it.

What game was he playing?

"Scotty," Jake started in a rather loud voice. "It's good to see you. How long has it been?"

"Oh, uh..." I had no idea what to say to that. A few hours?

"Must be ten years or so, right?"

Oh... "Something like that," I replied. "Our university days."

"Right, right." Jake gave me a nod. "Come on up. There's a bunch of us upstairs getting ready to have drinks."

"Sounds good." I slid my hands into my pockets as I followed Jake to the elevator. He didn't say anything as we rode up to the tenth floor so I didn't either. I wasn't sure what kind of surveillance the hotel had.

On the tenth floor, Jake led me down a long hallway to a set of double doors at the end. When we walked inside, I recognized a few of the men that had been in the hanger earlier in the day, but not the others.

"Where's Beck?"

He was the one I needed to see.

Jake pointed to a door on the far side of the room. "That connects to the hotel room next door. Beck's waiting for you in there."

He didn't need to say another word. I walked in that direction without a single word uttered. When I opened the door, I was surprised to find a small hallway with a single door at the other end. The only thing in the entire space was a frame picture of the Gulf of Mexico.

I walked to the other door and opened it up.

"Beck," I whispered on a relieved breath.

"Hi, husband." Beck's smile was joyous, but also relieved like mine. "Miss me."

Oh, he had no idea.