Stolen (Wild Mountain Scots, #3)

There was a special kind of frustration which came from not being able to have what I wanted. Two weeks ago, when I left California, Rory had promised not to cut me off. True to her word, throughout the remainder of my stay in Iceland, and over Christmas at home in Scotland, she’d sent daily messages.

Pictures only. No text.

All I knew was that she was painting again. Her work in progress showed a bleak landscape with craggy, snowbound mountains and a storm raging, then a solitary figure lost in the wilderness.

She was reproducing the incident where I’d been in danger. But without her words, I couldn’t fully understand where her mind was at.

I knew she was thinking about me, just as I thought about her constantly.

Two days ago, her messages stopped.

She was coming here for her sister’s wedding, her flight landing tomorrow. All that was keeping me sane was the knowledge from Elise that she was definitely coming.

Striding across the aircraft hangar, I glowered at anyone who tried to get in my way. Rory and I were going to have a conversation she wouldn’t like. But I couldn’t let her end things with me without telling her how I felt.

This brand-new unsettling yet entirely addictive feeling.

My whole world had turned upside down, and nothing was clear to me except her.

At the equipment store, Gabe was deep in conversation with Lochinvar, my pilot friend a new, if temporary, addition to the McRae estate.

On the flight back to Iceland, he’d remained close-lipped about the quarrel with his father, but I could tell that something was badly wrong. His black eye wasn’t his only injury, and the lack of bruised knuckles told me he hadn’t fought back.

At the end of our training, when we’d had beers with Jordie to celebrate our success, I’d tested the waters and invited Gabe to spend Christmas with my family. We always took in waifs and strays, and I had space in my cottage for a guest.

He thought about it for a few hours, then accepted in brief words. Since then, he hadn’t left.

Gordain had homed in on his skill set and put him to work. In the gap between Christmas and New Year’s, we had a two-day mountain rescue training event on a scale never attempted before. Today, we’d had a hundred volunteers turn up to help us rehearse a mass evacuation scenario.

Having another pilot of Gabe’s calibre gave us a huge boost, and he and I had been able to put the elements of our training to practice.

I arrived beside the two men.

“All set,” I informed the head of the mountain rescue service. “The last of the volunteers have cleared out, and the helis have been put to bed.”

Lochinvar gave me a short nod. For a man about to become a father for the second time, my sister’s baby due any day, he was doing a grand job of maintaining his focus. “Gabe has a suggestion for day two’s exercise.”

“Aye?” I turned to my friend.

Gabe tipped his head in the direction of the hangar entrance. “Tomorrow’s objective is to test personal locator devices and apps. Currently, the plan looks at mass connection, but we should consider range, too. We have enough people to send some farther out then tick off if we can chase them down.”

The strategy for the event had been developed by Lochinvar and Cameron, with input from the rest of the mountain rescue crew. I’d patched in from Iceland to help with my part.

“We talked about this,” I said to both men, “but we’d restricted it based on the number of pilots we had available. Ye being here changes that.”

I moved to my locker and unzipped my jumpsuit, sending a wry grin to Gabe. “If you’re naw careful, we willnae let ye go.”

“Agreed.” Lochinvar pointed between us, already heading for the door. “I’ll tell everyone of the change. Ye lads have a good evening.”

He left us, and I finished changing. Gabe waited for me, quiet as ever, then we walked out to my car to return to my cottage.

“I need to make a small change to your living arrangements,” I said, pulling away from the hangar. “Rory arrives tomorrow for her sister’s wedding.”

Gabe raised his black eyebrows. “Say no more. After the event, I’ll go. I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

“No, no. That isn’t what I meant. I’m naw sure she will even stay with me, but it would be nice to have the option. Gordain has a room ready for ye at Castle Braithar. None of us want ye to leave.”

He exhaled hard and switched his gaze to the window. “Thanks, but I cannae hide out here forever. I have a life to return to.”

“Why does that sound like ye are facing the firing squad?”

“In a way, I am.”

“Then stay longer. The wedding will be fun. Stop for that at least.”

We turned the corner that took us to my cottage, and I peered out of the windscreen. A motorbike waited in my parking space.

“Your brother?” Gabe asked.

He’d met Max on Christmas Day before my twin had returned to the northern Highlands.

“Looks like it.”

I halted the car alongside the bike, and we climbed out. The door to the neighbouring cottage opened, and Max appeared, Isla clinging to his back like a monkey.

Behind them, Cait trudged, the effects of late pregnancy plain. She wafted a swollen hand at me, then pointed back into the house. “I’ve been standing up for a whole minute, and I need to pee.”

“Way too much information,” Max replied.

“Tough luck,” our older sister snapped. “Ye men get away with only the good stuff when it comes to making new humans. If we women have to bear the burden, ye can damn well hear about it and be sympathetic.”

“Benefits of having an older sister,” I side-mouthed to Gabe. “We never missed out on knowing exactly why lasses have it harder. In detail.”

“Not a bad thing,” Gabe replied low. “I wish I’d had the chance to understand women better.”

I shot him a look, but we’d arrived alongside my family.

“Isla can hang with us until Lochie gets back. Go lie down and stop griping,” Max said to Cait, then hefted the little girl higher, his hands stirrups for her stripy-socked feet.

Cait muttered to herself then went back inside her home. I ushered everyone inside my cottage.

Max being here was…weird. Originally, he’d wanted this cottage, but I’d put in my rental request before I knew. He’d never once visited with it as my home.

Either this was another indication we were healing, or it was a sign that I should give the place over to him. Gordain had no further news on the contract negotiations, other than it would take several months before we knew for sure that we’d lost the oil rigs. I had a job here until spring, but I’d potentially need to move on after that.

In the kitchen, I opened the fridge. “Beer?” I asked my visitors.

Both men readily agreed, then Isla piped up in her small, sweet voice.

“Yes, please.”

In unison, the three of us made sounds of disbelief. I poured her a glass of juice then took the drinks into the living room.

Gabe accepted his beer and raised it in thanks. “What time does Rory land tomorrow?”

Isla leapt up. “Rory’s coming back? She’s so pretty. Is she in the wedding? I’m a flower girl.”

I smiled at the lass then darted a glance at Max before answering. “Her flight gets in around lunchtime.”

Max’s gaze stayed on mine. “Ye picking her up?”

“Can’t. I’ll be deep in the training event. Elise will go.”

I kept to myself that Rory hadn’t told me any of her plans, the knowledge of her arrival coming to me by her sister.

“Don’t forget about my helicopter flight,” Isla said to me. “I’ve already had my birthday.”

“I haven’t. We’ll do it this week.”

“Yay! Can Rory come with us?”

“If she wants.” But my heart sank at the increasing conviction that Rory’s visit here might not be all I’d hoped for.

My phone buzzed, and I extracted it from my pocket.

From the table, Gabe collected a pack of cards and turned to Isla, ready with a game. In the past few days, he’d got to know my family, and I wondered if he had younger siblings. Not that any of my questions about him had an answer.

I read the message on my screen. It was from an old university friend.

Jake: Did you hear about Lucas? I know you used to be tight.

Lucas was the guy I’d bought Max’s bike part from.

Maddock: What about him?

Jake: Busted for stolen goods. He and his brother were fencing car parts from their farm. They were working for a gang of car thieves.

I swore under my breath, but a knock came at the door. At my call, Lochinvar let himself in.

“Daddy!” Isla sprang to him.

He took in our setup, the card game, beer, and juice, and shook his head. “Fine group of bachelors ye all make, hanging out with an eight-year-old.”

“I’m done with women,” Max replied. “No bachelor life for me.”

“Same,” Gabe added.

I only sighed, the idea of being single not a pleasant one, even if technically, I didn’t have a girlfriend.

“Come on, ye can help me make dinner while your ma rests,” Lochinvar told his daughter, and with a wave, the two left us.

My attention fell back on Max. “I need to tell ye something.”

He tilted his head, inviting the conversation.

“The instrument panel I bought for your scrambler might be hot.”

“Shite, really?” He shook his head once. “Whatever. It’s not like I’ll be taking that bike out on the roads. New topic. What’s with the miserable expression? The minute Rory’s name came up, a black cloud appeared above your head.”

I downed my beer. “Long story.”

Except it wasn’t. It was a very short story that just happened to have several thousand miles dividing it.

Max’s gaze turned shrewd. “Fine. A few more of those, then ye can tell me.” He pointed at the beer can.

One more drink turned into three.

I couldn’t get drunker than a night’s sleep would clear as I had to fly tomorrow, but the alcohol worked to loosen my lips. In the corner, the log burner blazed, pouring more heat out than the room needed. Lounging on my couch, Max stripped his shirt. He’d had more tattoo work done, with ink spreading over his shoulder and curling around his upper arm.

But the robin on his chest snagged my focus.

That robin was a reminder of all the reasons Rory and I couldn’t work out. Their joint tattoo signified her short but brilliant stay in my life. Starting with her friendship with my twin, and ending with me, this weekend, laying out how I felt. Before she told me we were through.

My twin brushed his knuckles over the ink.

“Kind of hate that ye have that,” I said on a breath.

But then my worldview expanded. If the mere thought of a connection between Max and Rory bothered me, when they’d never even kissed, how bad must it hurt Max to know what I did with his ex?

“Fuck,” I added. “I’m so sorry. I thought I understood how ye felt, but I had no idea how it could be.”

Max’s careful attention sharpened.

In that single sentence, I’d admitted more than I’d accepted to myself. Yet I couldn’t help the growing knowledge. The horrible feeling of how Max had suffered contrasted with my new emotions.

Tension grew in the room.

Gabe looked between us. “Do ye need a minute to talk? I can go.”

Max shook his head once. “No. We’re just working through some shite. Maddock slept with an ex-girlfriend of mine. I have history with the woman he’s in love with now.”

My friend raised his eyebrows. “Ye have the same taste in women.”

Somehow, this simple comment on our fucked-up situation hit me in the funnies. I burst out in a laugh.

My twin simply stared at me. “Then it’s true. You’re in love with Aurora.”

No way was I confessing that right now, but the pull inside ached.

“Are the two of ye talking still?” I asked.

She wasn’t texting me. If she was happily chatting with Max, it would hurt all the more.

“No.”

Thank fuck. A tight coil that felt a lot like fear released inside me. “She isnae talking to me either,” I confessed. “Whatever I feel doesnae matter if, after the wedding, she leaves here and never comes back.”

“Unless ye go with her,” Gabe stated.

Max slapped his hand on the table. “Aye, ye should consider it.”

“Seriously?” I said.

“I lost Aurelia because I didnae act. Dinna make that mistake with Rory.”

“Wait, Aurora and Aurelia?” Gabe looked between us. “Your twin game is strong.”

Lia was Aurelia. I stored that knowledge away.

Max grabbed his phone. “I have an idea.”

“What?”

He pressed at his screen then raised the phone to his ear. “Hey,” he said to whoever answered. “Are ye free tonight?”

Max listened, and his smile spread. “Grand. Come to Maddock’s place and bring your kit. I have a job for ye.”

An hour later, and with my final beer of the night in my hand, I was lying out on the table while a huge man loomed over me holding a tattoo gun.

Smith flicked the switch, and the gun buzzed to life.

“Sure ye want to do this?” he asked. “It’ll hurt like fuck if ye later want it removed.”

He grinned at Max who raised a shoulder.

“I dinna regret mine. But once you’re done with my brother, I have something else for ye to do. An amendment to make to this one.” He pressed a fingertip to his robin.

The replica of the one I was about to have done.

In the spirit of Rory’s regret-nothing attitude, I was just going to do this. The alcohol in my blood removed any reservation I might have, and Max had sold it to me as a link between us as brothers.

I fucking loved that. I’d tattoo my whole fucking body if it meant he’d finally forgiven me.

And Smith got to work, branding my skin with Rory’s logo.

At the end, he covered up his work, carried out the quick addition that Max wanted to his tattoo, then packed up his kit. Before he left, Gabe called him over for a quiet word. Smith took out his gun once more, then sketched a quick letter on Gabe’s exposed and muscular upper arm. I couldn’t make out what Gabe had had done, but the man was full of secrets. One more made no difference.

Throughout the entirety of my work being done, Max had watched on, seeming smug that his idea had paid off. He saw Smith out, thanking him for coming to us, then returned to me.

“I’m going to head out. Just promise me one thing. This weekend with Rory, dinna hold back. Tell her exactly how ye feel.”

I lifted a hand, suddenly exhausted. “She’ll run a mile.”

Something stuck in Max’s gaze. He’d always been stubborn, far more than me. Once he had an idea in his head, it was all he could see. “Maybe she won’t.”

“What if she doesn’t feel the same?” I gave up.

“What if she does?” He slipped his shirt back on, grabbed his leather jacket, and was gone from my cottage.