“Is this Robyn Penhaligon?” a voice that was clearly masked using a voice-changing app asked. The accent was Scottish, however.
I swallowed hard. “Who is this?”
“I have Lachlan Adair.”
My heart lurched in my throat. No.
“When I get off the phone, I’ll text you directions to his location. If you want to save him, you’ll shake your bodyguards and come alone.”
Fuck. I wanted to say his name. To say, I know it’s you, you asshole. But the thought of putting Lachlan in further danger stopped me.
“I’m watching you, Robyn. I’ll know if you step on this land with those men at your back.”
He hung up.
Shaking with the rush of adrenaline, I tried to figure out how to get rid of my security. Then I remembered Fergus mentioned he owned a motorcycle.
I was rummaging through his drawers for keys when the text came in.
Pulling up my maps app, I tried to figure out where he was sending me.
From my guess … oh shit.
McCulloch land.
Anger ripped through me as I stormed into the kitchen, wrenching open drawers to look for keys. It had been that old bastard all along!
Finding a key that looked like it could fit a motorcycle, I snatched it and let myself out through the French doors off the kitchen that led onto a balcony. The balcony overlooked the parking lot and was hidden from the street at the front of the building where Gillies and Smithy waited.
Ignoring my aching ribs, I climbed onto a drainpipe attached to the building and shimmied down the cold metal. Even that slight drop to the ground shot shards of pain into my ribs, but I didn’t have time to take a breath.
My phone beeped in my pocket.
Another text. YOU HAVE TEN MINUTES OR HE DIES.
Hurrying across the lot to the old motorcycle sitting in the spot marked with Fergus’s apartment number, I got on the bike and felt relief flood through me when the key slotted perfectly into the ignition and the motorcycle growled to life. I checked the text with the directions again and memorized them as best as I could.
Then I was off, the motorcycle wobbling beneath my feet because I hadn’t ridden one since high school—and even then, it was a moped. I followed the road north out of Ardnoch, gunning the engine when I felt more confident.
The directions led me to a trail just narrow enough for a bike to traverse on the edge of McCulloch’s land.
And because I wasn’t a moron—and Fergus and McCulloch weren’t masterminds—I called Mac and told him everything in one big rush.
“Stay put!” he yelled in outrage as soon as I was done.
“If I don’t go to wherever it is they want me, they’ll hurt him. They’ve come too far now not to. I’ll get there and you find a way to follow me without alerting them.”
“Robyn—”
“We’re wasting time, Dad!”
“Fuck!” he bit out. “Fine. Forward me the text with the directions.”
“Thank you. I love you.”
“Don’t say that to me right now … I could kill you for going off on your own.”
“I’m not on my own. You’re coming to get me.”
He sucked in a breath. “I love you. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Be careful.”
“Yup.” I hung up abruptly, second-guessing my decision.
Maybe it was safer to wait for Mac.
There had to be a reason Fergus and McCulloch wanted me there too. Either way, they were caught … but that was the problem. Either way, they were caught. If I went, I put myself in danger along with Lachlan, but there was a chance I could save him.
If I didn’t go and I waited for Mac, they would definitely kill him. They had nothing left to lose, right? And they hadn’t exactly proven themselves the most rational people.
Rock, meet Hard Place.
Gunning the motorbike engine, I shot off down the trail, my fury spurring me on. I had no reason to fear getting lost from that point on. The trail led directly to a small shack in the woods, and the same truck that had run me off the road was parked out front.
I almost shook my head in disbelief.
This couldn’t get any more cliché. Fergus had watched one too many movies about how to do this.
I stopped the bike near the little porch of the run-down wooden structure. There seemed to be no purpose for it, but then I didn’t know enough about farming to understand why McCulloch would have this building on his land.
Getting off the bike, I froze at the sight of the door opening. It was crooked on its hinges and creaked as it swung into the dark of the little shack. No one stood behind the door.
Well, that’s creepy.
Pushing through the fear that hit my knees like reflex hammers, I walked up the porch steps and—
“Lachlan!” I moved to launch myself through the doorway, but sense halted me.