Page 6 of Utterly Dauntless (Return to Culloden Moor #3)

CHAPTER SIX

G rey headed home, though not to the charming home he and Aries once shared. Together, they'd meticulously curated each piece of furniture, each picture on the wall—memories that began a collection he once believed would grow forever.

He'd walked away from the lot of it after Italy. The memories were too sharp, too jagged for daily exposure. Now, he lived in a small, sparsely furnished flat, a functional space devoid of sentiment. He didn't care how comfortable a chair was, or the size of the tub. Didn’t care if there was only one cup on the shelf, one fork in the drawer. He would never need a real home again.

All he really needed was sleep. And food. And he needed both now.

His freshly charged phone buzzed. He pulled it from his pocket and read the name on the screen. Kitchens.

"Yeah?"

“Got something.”

Grey's heart jumped. “Tell me.”

“One of Shug’s friends kept watch on Peg’s cottage through the night. Saw a rental car pull up just before dawn. Managed to get the plates, but he had to leave for work. I just got the numbers. ”

"Had to be her. Peg said she'd been there this morning."

“Dinnae ken. By the time Shug got over there, the car was gone. But we’re tracing the plates. Should know more soon.”

He’d been prepared to fly to Belgium, to chase that lead across the sea. The possibility of finding her sooner, of confronting her on Scottish soil, cheered him to no end. “Grateful, Kitch. Let me know.”

Maybe he'd have to settle for a few bites and a little nap...

Fifteen minutes later, when Grey was just pulling into his car park, his phone buzzed again. Kitchens again.

“Got the rental traced. A Jenny Smith. Bogus, of course. But we caught the car on CCTV heading west out of Inverness, then south. Looks like she’s making for the Irish Sea. Ferry to Dublin, maybe. Or the long way round to England. Maybe she'll fly out of Glasgow. If she does, we'll know.”

"I'd bet Dublin."

Aries had lived in Ireland's capital for a time, after her father’s death, after she’d first fled Inverness. She’d admitted she'd found a strange sort of peace there and thought the Irish were the kindest people on earth. A natural choice if she were feeling threatened. But he'd have to move fast. She never stayed anywhere long.

He didn’t bother pulling into his car park. He had a go bag in the boot, always packed, always ready. He turned the car around and headed for the west end of town, past the old ranch, then on toward Oban, though his adrenaline couldn’t possibly get him that far…

The road curved and Loch Linnhe would have been in view if not for the late hour—almost midnight. His lack of sleep was taking its toll. He caught himself drifting toward the center line and cursed himself for a fool. The lapse brought him wide awake, but it wouldn't last. He'd reached his limit.

By rubbing his eyes furiously, he bought himself another few minutes, long enough to reach a wide gravel lay-by near a cluster of trees. The air tasted of pine resin when he walked into those trees to piss.

After returning to the car, he lowered the seat back, turned to the side, then forced deep breaths into his lungs and let exhaustion claim him. And claim him it did. When the vibration of his phone woke him next, the sun was nearly up. Only a narrow field and a few trees separated him from the grey stretch of Loch Linnhe, newly emerged from the darkness.

He found the phone and answered. “Aye,” he croaked. "What’ve ye got?”

“Grey? Her rental’s been found." From Kitchens' tone, this clearly wasn't good news.

"And?"

"Traffic Police spotted it abandoned near Inverbeg, just short of Luss, along Loch Lomond.”

His foggy brain churned, grasping for implications. “Empty?”

“Empty,” Kitchens confirmed. “Rental company’s sending someone to collect it now, but I’ve got one of the lads on his way. He’s not far. I’m hoping he’ll get there first.”

Grey swore under his breath. Why abandon her car? What is she doing, for pity's sake—hitchhiking? "She’s mad…”

“We don't know enough yet. Give our man some time."

“She always keeps a car. Always. Never risks being caught without an escape plan. Never broke pattern before.”

"Like I said, we don't know enough yet. Talk soon." Kitch hung up.

Grey tossed the phone aside, opened the door, and climbed out to accept a cold kiss from the morning air. After a second trip to the trees, he popped open the boot of his car and removed the go bag. Protein bars, a box of Tunnock's tea cakes, and two bottles of water were going to save his life.

She was lost in the wind by now. A clever man would turn back, head for his flat, and get some proper rest before thinking any further. He even started the engine, convincing himself it was the logical step. After some sleep and a shower, he could hire a plane to Dublin and be there to greet her when the ferry docked. But when he pulled back onto the road, his car continued south, as if it had decided for him.

That was it. He would blame the car.