"Let her go, Dougal."
I hear the bastard's laughter through the mobile phone, and I my hands are trembling with rage.I nearly drop the mobile as I rush down the stairs, taking them three at a time.
"What do ye want, MacWraith?"I demand."Name your price."
"You're so direct, Balfour.That's what I like about you.As for what I want, it's quite simple."
"Then tell me now because I'mfeargachenough to strangle ye through the phone line."
"I want you to suffer as I have suffered.To feel the helplessness of having everything you value stripped away."
I slam my fist into the wall with a loud crack."You fucking lunatic!Where is she?"
Dougal sniggers in the most evil way."You've given me what I wanted.Thank you, Balfour."
I burst through the building's front door onto the street, scanning frantically in both directions."Let me speak to her.Now.If you've laid one finger on her---"
"Afraid the lass is a bit...indisposed at the moment."
"If ye've hurt her, I swear on my life I will hunt ye down and make ye wish ye'd never been born."I'm already jumping into my Porsche.The engine roars to life, an extension of my fury.
"Dramatic as ever."Dougal snickers, his voice infuriatingly calm."Let me be clear, Balfour.You will come alone to Cairntorran Manor.You know the place, I assume, after your moronic siege at my home.You have two hours.If you involve the police or your brothers, well...let's just say your lovely fiancée won't be returning to plan that wedding you're so excited about."
My knuckles turn white on the steering wheel."How do I know she's even alive?"
I hear a rustling sound, and then...
"Kirk?"Gretchen's voice is shaky but unmistakable."Kirk?Don't come here.It's a trap---"
Her voice cuts off abruptly, replaced by the sound of a struggle and a pained cry that makes my teeth gnash and my blood pressure skyrocket."Dougal, ye malicious ersehole---"
"Two hours, Balfour," Dougal warns, making a ticktock sound."Come alone, or she dies."
The call disconnects.
"FUCK!"I slam my palm against the steering wheel, the pain barely registering through my panic.My Gretchen.My beautiful, fierce, wonderful Gretchen in the hands ofthat monster.
I peel away from the curb, tires screeching as I accelerate down the street.My mind races faster than the car, and I'm trying to formulate a plan.Cairntorran Manor is nearly an hour's drive from Loch Fairbairn.The former stone fortress, which was transformed into a genteel manor house decades ago, lies perched on a remote hillside that Dougal owns.Despite having been to the manor only once, during our mission to rescue Kenny, I feel as if I know it like the back of my hand.
The bastard has been hiding at Cairntorran all this time, right under our noses.
I need help, but Dougal's threat rings in my ears.If I ring Tam or the constables, Gretchen might die.But going in alone is suicide, which is exactly what Dougal wants.I take the turn onto the main road, pushing the Porsche faster than I should.I need to think clearly, but all I can see is Gretchen's face and the fear in her voice.To get her back, I need help from someone Dougal would never expect.MacWraith might've ordered me to come alone, but the special forces ally I'm thinking of knows how to handle a bastard like Dougal.It's a chance I must take.
I fumble with my mobile, dialing the number before I can second-guess myself.My ally picks up on the second ring.
"Listen carefully," I instruct, my voice barely controlled."Dougal has Gretchen.He's got her at Cairntorran.I need your help urgently.The mission will be dangerous."
The response comes back right away---and affirmatively.
Gretchen, I'm coming for you.Hold on.
I drive far too fast down the Highland roads.The Porsche's engine screams as I push it to its limits.The beautiful landscape that normally fills me with peace now blurs past me like a mocking reminder of how quickly happiness can be snatched away.
"Hold on,mo chridhe."I know Gretchen can't hear me, but I need to speak the words aloud anyway."I'm coming for ye, lass."
When I eventually turn onto the gravel track that leads to Cairntorran Manor, I see Keltie Ralston is already waiting at the agreed meeting point---a weathered stone bridge that crosses over a narrow ravine about a mile from Dougal's fortress.This is a different spot than where we participated in Operation Tartan Glory.The sight relief rushes through me, though it does nothing to quell the rage and fear churning in my gut.
I pull the Porsche to a stop, the tires crunching on gravel.Keltie straightens from where she's been leaning against her own vehicle, a rugged Land Rover that's seen better days.Her expression is grim, but her gaze is sharp and alert, the eyes of a woman who's faced danger before and come out the other side.
