Page 8 of Utterly Dauntless (Return to Culloden Moor #3)
CHAPTER EIGHT
W atching the lengths of Loch Lochy and Loch Oich pass by her window left Aries with a stiff neck, but she welcomed the sting that distracted her from the zip ties cutting into her wrists. The morning sun cast long shadows across the road ahead, and she found herself searching each passing vehicle for a familiar face. She dearly hoped Grey was looking for her by now.
She'd been foolish yesterday not to change cars in Oban as she normally would have. But as her captor hauled her out of her rental, forcing her to leave Gran's teacup behind, she realized her mistake might have been inspired. One of The 79 had surely been watching her grandmother's house, so they would know what she'd been driving. Eventually, they might be able to trace the plates and learn that she'd abandoned the car, maybe against her will.
It was a long shot, but any hope was good hope. And no man was as tenacious as her dragon, Grey Strachan.
She couldn't ignore what else that mistake had meant.
Dear Lord, had she wanted him to catch her this time?
Surely not.
Surely...
She clung to that little bit of faith in Grey to keep from completely losing it. She still didn't know who this man was, though she studied him from the corner of her eye whenever she dared. He had to be a Scot. No man from another country would have driven all the way to the Highlands in his work clothes. The coveralls he wore were smeared with oil and grease. Maybe he worked on an oil rig. Maybe a mechanic. Did she know any roughnecks?
His dull brown hair hung past his collar, his beard scraggly and unkempt. The boots on his feet were coming apart at the seams. She tried not to flinch each time he glanced her way with that knowing sneer, but she couldn't quite control the tremors that rolled through her when he did.
Yeah, she was scared. But she sensed this guy would stay much calmer if she kept it together.
"Still don't reckon who I am, eh?" His voice was rougher this morning.
She shook her head.
"Well, ye will soon enough."
She pointed her chin at the road stretching north. "Headed back to Inverness?"
He scowled.
"I saw you behind me yesterday morning. I'm just wondering why you didn't stop me sooner."
He looked away and she thought he wouldn't answer, but then he spoke. "Had to find my moment, didn't I?"
His discomfort finally made sense. It had taken him all day to build up the courage. And when she realized he wasn't as tough as he pretended to be, she relaxed a little.
He'd been gentle with her thus far, let her sit up front after she promised to behave. When exhaustion had overtaken him in the night, he'd laid her down in the back, secured her feet and attached her hands to a spare tire. But he'd covered her with a cargo blanket, and when the lorry got really cold, he'd turned on the engine and the heater for a while. By her guess, he'd slept about three hours. If he'd worked a full shift before following her all day, he needed much more than that. But he seemed alert enough for now. They'd already passed Fort William, so they'd be in Inverness by midday.
But then what?
Damn. Maybe she didn't really want to know.
She flexed her fingers, trying to maintain circulation without drawing his attention. Her shoulders ached from being bound for so long, but she wouldn't complain. Instead, she focused on memorizing every detail—his mannerisms, his voice, anything that might help her place him in her past. Because somewhere in her history, their paths had crossed. And whatever she'd done then had led to this moment.
Unfortunately for her, it seemed he was after more than just an apology.
The sign for Inverbeg flashed past, and Grey crushed the wrapper of his last Tunnock's teacake into a ball. He'd been running on sugar and determination for the past hour, scanning the roadside for any sign of where Aries' rental might have been abandoned. But the police were long gone, the car hauled away. He had no idea where to even start looking.
He pulled onto the shoulder and killed the engine. The silence pressed in, broken only by the ticking of the cooling engine and the occasional whoosh of a passing car.
"Lord," he whispered, "I could use a wee bit of help here." He scrubbed his hands over his face, his stubble rough against his palms. "Just...just let me find her."
His phone buzzed against the console, the screen lighting up with Emergency Last Resort. Wickham's sisters.
Grey stared at it, his thumb hovering over the screen. The witches never called unless something was truly wrong. Or truly right. The problem was, you never knew which until you answered.
With a deep breath, he swiped to accept the call. "Aye?"
"Grey." A familiar voice crackled through the speaker, though he couldn’t guess which sister it belonged to. "Kitchens told us what's happened."
"Then ye ken why I cannae talk now?—"
"Listen to me. You need to turn around and head home."
He barked out a laugh. "I dinnae think ye're gettin' the full picture here, marm."
"I assure you, we are." Her tone held that eerie certainty that made the hair on his neck rise. "Whoever has Aries is taking her home ."
"Givin' her back?"
"That's all we know. He's taking her home. No idea whose home. But you and she are moving in opposite directions." She paused. "And this time, I mean that literally, not figuratively, dear."
Grey's heart thundered, spreading sugar and hope through his veins. "Ye're certain?"
"Would I call if I wasn't? Now promise me you'll turn around. And don't just say it to get rid of me."
"I wouldnae dare." And he meant it. One did not make false promises to a witch.
"Good man. Drive safe."
He ended the call, tossed the phone onto his go bag, and swung the car around to head north again. If they'd been moving in opposite directions, did that mean a blue van had by-passed him at some point? The idea of her coming so close while he slept brought a growl out of him and he pressed harder on the accelerator. When he finally let up, he remembered to say a prayer of thanks...for witches who stuck their noses and their talents into other people's business.