Stolen (Wild Mountain Scots, #3)

The thundering chopping of the helicopter blades cut up the darkness. At the controls, I kept my feverish attention on the directions fed to me by Lochie, still tracking the live beacon of Rory’s mobile phone.

At my side, Gabe copiloted, and in the back, Cameron coordinated with other resources.

We were closing in on the car. All manner of circumstances crossed my mind.

That Rory had already been hurt.

That we were chasing her phone, not her, and she was elsewhere.

That I should’ve told her I was falling in love with her before my damn brother had the chance.

At the final thought, I gunned the engine, pushing the heavy aircraft to the maximum it could go.

Through the headset, Cameron spoke. “Elise has news. It’s not good.”

With difficulty, we’d persuaded Rory’s sister to remain behind. We needed more information on Rory’s kidnapper, and she had a direct line to his sibling. Cameron had also told her in no uncertain terms that he needed to keep her safe.

Something I’d failed to do for the woman I cared about.

“Tell me,” I demanded.

“Johnnie’s sister has done some digging. A friend of his admitted that Johnnie’s been in hiding. He travelled to the US to try his hand at stealing cars, but it went wrong and he returned to England and has been sofa surfing to keep away from some crooks.”

“The source of the money,” I guessed.

“Looks that way. The criminal gang he’s involved with steal cars and fence stolen parts around the country. They’re on the run from the police and are likely desperate and putting pressure on him.”

“Then he’s taking her to them.” My voice came out rough. I’d bought a stolen motorbike part. My brother was taking the heat for that now. Whether this was connected or not, Rory couldn’t go near those men.

One-on-one, we’d have a far greater chance of retrieving her. Us versus a desperate gang added unacceptable risk.

My words came out through gritted teeth. “We can’t let them reach their destination.”

“Intercept in ten,” Lochie announced.

I stiffened, adrenaline flooding my already overloaded system. A glance at the S-92’s display gave me our location over the Scotland-England border—adjacent in the country to where I’d flown Rory before on her one-minute visit to England.

So much had changed since that fun, flirty trip.

“We need to confirm the final plan,” Cameron said.

I gestured to Gabe. “Take the controls.”

He accepted, and I vacated my seat for the spacious rear cabin. Cameron and Lochie watched me. As my leader and second in command of the mountain rescue service, usually they were the ones calling the shots, but today, both waited on me.

“Cam, we need the police to confirm action.”

He dipped his head. “They’re offering a response as requested.”

“Will they get there in time?”

“For now, we should assume they can. They are highly interested in Johnnie.”

Good enough. I switched my attention to the older man. “Lochinvar, ready the winch.”

The big man eyed the equipment then palmed his bearded cheek. “I trust your judgement, Maddock, but this is risky.”

“No, what’s happening to Rory is risky,” I barked back. “I just spent weeks training in how to do this exact thing.”

“Aye, to an extent,” he debated, “but over soft snow and in controlled conditions. We’re tracking a moving car going ninety down a motorway. There are other vehicles on the road. Unknown hazards. None of this is the same.”

“Fuck that. Rescues are never under controlled conditions. Answer me this: if it was your lass, would ye be arguing the point with me right now?”

Lochie closed his mouth, and I switched my glare to Cameron.

My cousin lifted his hands. “Cool your head. Lochie’s trying to keep ye safe, not stop this. Rory’s one of our own, aye? We’ll do whatever it takes.”

“Of course I fucking am,” Lochie added. “I dinna intend to lose ye in the process.”

I forced away my anger and returned to the actions we’d discussed during the too-long flight. “Fine. Then don’t drop me. We have our plan, and it’ll work. Now give me that harness and hook me up.”

In fast, efficient moves, I was strapped in and ready to go. Despite Lochie’s concerns and the highly dangerous nature of what we were undertaking, no fear touched me. We had 290 feet of tested cable and a world-class crew guiding me to where I needed to be.

In a pincer position, ready to extract my lass.

This had to work.

The seconds ticked by.

“Maddock,” Gabe said from the pilot seat. “Come up front. You’re going to want to take a look at this.”

I joined him and stared out of the cockpit glass. What I saw brought my readiness into sharp focus.

It was now or never.