Page 36 of Edinburgh Escape (Brotherhood Protectors International #5)

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Callum brushed away something small tapping against his shoulder. He hadn’t slept so soundly since the mission from hell. He wanted to continue sleeping.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“Mr. Callum, are you awake?” a soft, high-pitched voice whispered in his ear.

Callum lifted an eyelid.

Bryce stood beside him, his face inches from his.

Callum jerked awake and sat up.

Holy hell. If he’d been in the middle of one of his nightmares, he could have killed the kid.

His heart racing, he shoved his hands through his hair.

Then it dawned on him that he hadn’t had a nightmare. He’d slept the entire night without a dream.

He straightened and focused on young Bryce. “You’re up early.”

Bryce nodded. “I want to go see Montana. I thought Ms. Maggie would come, too, but she isn’t in her room. Do you know where she is?”

Callum frowned. “Is she in the kitchen?”

Bryce shook his head. “No. Only Cook.”

Callum pushed to his feet. “I’ll go look for her. While I do that, you should have Cook fix breakfast for you.”

Bryce nodded. “When you find Maggie, can you tell her I want her to come with me to see Montana?”

“Will do,” Callum said. The boy must have bonded with Maggie over their shared adversity, having been kidnapped together.

While Bryce went off to the kitchen, Callum climbed the stairs and knocked on Maggie’s bedroom door. When she didn’t answer, he went in, thinking she might be in the bathroom and hadn’t heard his knock.

The bathroom door was open with no sign of Maggie.

As he looked around the room, he noted the neatly made bed and a clean, pristine room with absolutely no sign of the woman who’d been there.

No clothes were draped across a chair, no roller bag lay unzipped and open on the floor.

No backpack. His own backpack lay beside the door where he’d set it the first night there, but everything that had belonged to Maggie was gone. It was as if she’d never been there.

His heartbeat quickened as an empty feeling settled like lead in the pit of his belly.

She’s gone.

One last glance at the room was all the verification needed. She’d packed up and left.

As he turned back toward the door, something caught his eye. An envelope lay propped against a pillow on the bed. He crossed to the bed and noted his name scrawled across the front in Maggie’s handwriting.

His hand shook as he lifted the flap on the back, extracted the single sheet of paper inside and read.

Dear Callum,

I couldn’t stay and watch you walk away again, so I’m leaving before you have the chance.

You think your PTSD makes you dangerous to me, but what you don’t understand is that I could have loved you—every piece of you, even the broken ones—if only you’d let me. We all carry trauma. We all have scars. That doesn’t mean we’re unworthy of love.

I wanted the chance to love you. Truly, I did.

I would have taken you any way you came—nightmares, darkness, and all—because those things don’t define you.

They’re only a part of your story, not the whole of you.

Together, we could have found a way through the violent dreams and the shadows.

But you have to let someone in. You have to let me in.

I’m returning to Montana. If you decide you’re ready—if you decide you want to give me that chance—I’ll be there. The next move is yours, Callum.

Ready to love you,

Maggie

Callum read the letter a second time through a haze of moisture in his eyes. She wanted to love him.

God, he wanted to love her. Could he let her in? Would the risk to her life be too great? He could never live with himself if he hurt her.

Though they hadn’t known each other long, he knew deep in his heart that he could love her. Yes, he could live without her, but he’d be the miserable, lonely shell of a man he’d been since losing his team. He wanted the chance to love and be loved.

He wanted Maggie.

Now, she was gone.

Callum frowned. How far could she have gone?

To get to Montana, she had to catch a flight.

Surely, she’d have to wait to catch that flight at the airport.

If he hurried, he might catch her before she left Scotland.

Even if she had left Scotland, he could follow her all the way back to Montana.

And he would because she was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he couldn’t let her leave without a fight.

He’d get the therapy he needed, work through the trauma and bad dreams with the ultimate goal of spending the rest of his life with a woman so warm, caring and beautiful inside and out as Maggie.

Spurred by determination, he ran from the room and descended the stairs two at a time. She would have had to get a ride into Edinburgh. Alastair, the chauffeur, would have taken her.

Callum ran down the hallway toward the back of the manor.

Before he reached the back door, Cook stepped out of the kitchen and blocked his exit. “She left less than twenty minutes ago. If you hurry, you can catch her.”

Callum grabbed Cook and pulled her into a quick hug. “Bless you.”

“No need for that,” Cook murmured, her face flushing a ruddy red as she smoothed her hands over her apron.

With a bark of laughter, Callum grinned and spun. As he ran for the back door, he called out over his shoulder, “Let Ace Hammerson know where I’m headed. Hopefully, I’ll be back soon with Maggie.”

He sprinted for the garage, arriving within seconds. The overhead door where the big black car was usually parked was rolled up. The space was empty.

Callum opened the door behind which his rental car was parked, jumped in, started the engine and raced out of the garage. He skidded sideways on loose gravel as he turned onto the driveway and floored the accelerator.

A twenty-minute head start wasn’t insurmountable if the roads were dry and traffic didn’t get in the way. He could be at the airport before she had a chance to check in with the airline.

Feeling hopeful, he floored the accelerator on the straight stretches and slowed on the curves. When the road straightened, following along a slow-moving river, Callum pressed his foot all the way to the floor. The rental car picked up speed. With no other vehicles on the road, he flew.

Suddenly, a man with soaking wet clothing scrambled up the bank bordering the river and stumbled into the road.

Callum slammed on the brakes and turned slightly to avoid hitting the man.

He didn’t have time to stop until after he passed the man.

Several yards further, he was able to pull the car to the side of the road.

As much as he wanted to get to Maggie, the drenched man appeared to be in trouble, and there was something familiar about him.

Callum shifted into park, jumped out of the car and ran back to the man who was heading his way.

As he neared, Callum recognized the man as Alastair Boyd, the chauffeur and the man transporting Maggie to the airport.

Alastair staggered toward him. “I don’t know what happened... Everything was fine, and then the car veered off the road. I couldn’t stop it and was barely able to get out.”

Callum gripped the man’s arms. “Where’s Maggie?”

“I couldn’t open the door. I couldn’t get her out. It’s too late.” Alastair fell against Callum.

No. It couldn’t be too late. Alastair was just coming up from the river. He pushed Alastair to arm’s length and shook him. “How long ago did the car go under?”

“Too long. She’s gone, I tell you. It’s too late.”

“It’s not too late. She’s not going to die if I can help it,” Callum said through gritted teeth. He tried to push Alastair away.

The big man wrapped his arms around Callum and wouldn’t let go. “It’s too late. She’s gone. You’ll only put your own life at risk.”

“Let go. She might have found an air pocket. I have to try.”

Alastair tightened his hold around Callum. “I can’t let you do that.”

A rush of rage boiled up inside Callum. “The hell you can’t.” What the hell was wrong with the man? Why was he holding him back from saving Maggie? Desperate to get to her, Callum slammed his heel onto Alastair’s instep.

Alastair grunted in pain and loosened his hold just enough that Callum was able to bring his hands up between them and knock the other man’s arms away. Once free of Alastair, Callum started for the river.

The chauffeur swept out his leg, tripping Callum. He came down hard on his knees. Alastair jumped on the man’s back and tried to pin him in a wrestler’s hold.

Fear for Maggie’s life gave Callum the adrenaline and determination to roll Alastair over and break free of his grip, but the man was like an octopus. As soon as Callum freed himself of one hold, Alastair pinned him in another.

Beyond frustrated, Callum roared, doubled his fists together and swung them at Alastair’s jaw. The force of the hit knocked the man backward and over the side of the road. Alastair tumbled down the embankment and crashed into a tree, headfirst. He lay still, unmoving.

Callum spotted the rear end of the black car, the only part of the vehicle that hadn’t sunk below the surface. If he wanted to get her out, he would have to break a window. He ran back to the rental car, popped the trunk and grabbed the tire iron.

His heart in his throat, Callum slid down the embankment, dove into the river and swam for the car and Maggie, the tire iron weighing him down and making it hard to fight the current.

At last, he reached the car, dragged himself up onto the rear end, almost losing his grip on the tire iron in the process.

Then he knelt close to the rear window and yelled, “Maggie, if you can hear me, move away from the back window. I’m going to break it.” Without waiting another moment, he slammed the tire iron into the window.

The glass shattered where the metal bar hit it, but it took several more hits before the window was sufficiently broken. Using the tire iron, he swept the jagged edges loose.