Stolen (Wild Mountain Scots, #3)

Hundreds of metres over the airfield, I hovered, the huge S-92 helicopter aquiver and waiting on my every move. This thing was a bus, kitted out for a large number of passengers. Heavy as fuck but nice to fly.

We also used a specialist version in mountain rescues.

I desperately wanted to pilot for the service.

The thought of getting a winch team into position then sending them down into the mountains on a risky rescue. A battling storm challenging my skills. Lives in my hands…

It had my heart pounding like nothing else.

Except for the shock of lust I’d received staring at Rory yesterday. But I couldn’t think about that in the middle of a flight.

“Altitude checks,” Duncan, my copilot, said through my headphones from his position in the opposite seat.

“Check,” I replied.

We descended through the cloud layer, visibility reducing to almost nothing. No problem for me, though. I’d put in enough hours to get to grips with this baby. Today’s flight to deliver workers to an oil rig had been a piece of cake.

Through the other side, the hangar loomed into view, and I lowered us until executing a smooth landing.

This had long been second nature for me. In the blood perhaps, as several family members flew. A pilot’s career had been my dream since I was six years old, and I’d gained my private licence as a teenager. Since then, I’d worked my way up to my commercial exam and now, done with uni, I was in the position I’d always wanted.

Ready to take on search and rescue.

If Gordain let me.

I powered down the craft, and we talked through the short flight.

“Good work today,” Duncan concluded.

“Go tell that to Gordain,” I joked. “I asked him about flying mountain rescue again last week, and he said he’d consider it.”

The older man shrugged. “What’s to consider? Ye already know how to fly in the mountains. He’d be a fool to turn down free labour.”

“Maddock?” Another voice hailed me from the hangar.

I spun around and spotted Gordain in the cavernous entrance. He gestured at the office suite at the back of the building, and I nodded understanding.

“Go on and see him.” Duncan grinned. “I’ll stow the bird.”

I thanked the man and jogged to Gordain’s office.

At his desk, he sat, a wee frown denting his brow. “Thanks for coming in.”

Paperwork littered his desk, flyers for a mountain rescue event we were running after Christmas. We’d be testing tracking devices and working out our response to handling events with large numbers of participants. Presumably he’d want to discuss that.

“What’s up?”

Gordain twisted his lips. “There’s a couple of things I need to discuss with ye. First, tell me your long-term goals, beyond flying mountain rescue.”

I tilted my head, not expecting this question. “Just to fly.”

“Aye, but do ye want to sit in the pilot’s seat for your entire career?” He interlaced his fingers, and the frown grew. “Maybe that isn’t a fair question considering ye only just started this job.”

“I never considered any other.”

“What about your business degree?”

“I took it because Ma wanted me to have a backup plan, but that doesn’t change how I feel about flying. Is there something wrong with just wanting that?”

“Not at all. I’m just… Shite.” He reclined in his seat and stared at the ceiling.

Something was wrong. Gordain was only ever direct.

His sigh came heavy, and he returned his troubled gaze to me. “The biggest heli hire contract we have is up for renewal, and I found out this morning that a major competitor is going to undercut me.”

He meant the flight I’d just returned from. We ran daily trips taking personnel to and from the platforms out in the North Sea. That, plus running medical professionals and businesspeople between cities was our bread and butter. I jabbed my fingers into my hair. “Can we fight for it?”

“We could, if we wanted to run at a loss. We cannae afford to do that.”

“What does it mean if we lose the work?”

Gordain rubbed his jaw. “That’s what I’m trying to work out. It looks like that part of the service would become financially unviable.”

“What part? The helicopter hire part?” Which meant my job. Acute disappointment crunched my gut.

“Aye. It’ll kill me to shut it down. I built that business from nothing, but my time is split now, and I’m away more than I’m here. I dinna have the hours needed to run it successfully when it won’t pay for itself. If we do lose this contract, it’ll need new ones bid on and won, and that takes effort. More than I have to give.”

“Is there someone else who can run it?”

“Not that I can afford to pay a full-time salary to, and I don’t have anyone on staff who can step up to manage it all. Unless ye are willing?”

The thought of leading something like that left me cold. Despite my degree in business management, taken mainly at the suggestion of my businesswoman mother, all I’d ever wanted was to be a helicopter pilot, zipping off down the country, faster than everyone below. Alone in all that space. The fact that I could do that in my own backyard had been a dream come true. But my dream was fast fizzling out.

Gordain wouldn’t be telling me this if he had a choice.

I stomped down a childish need to complain. “That kind of career isnae for me. If that goes ahead, what happens to the pilots?”

“If the worst comes to the worst, I’ll make sure no one is out of work. Some would go with whoever takes over the oil fields contract. I have contacts for the others.”

Most cities with an airport had a heli service like ours. Pilots moved between them often, seeking variety or a place to settle.

“We’d still run the pilot school here,” my uncle continued. “And there’s always a need for pilots on site to fly search and rescue when the call comes in.”

But I wasn’t a trainer. There would be no full-time job for me. I’d have to leave.

Just as I thought I’d started my working life, it was looking shaky. My panic settled to a glum acceptance.

“I wanted to tell ye this before anyone else. It’s not finalised yet, but ye needed to know because of the second thing we have to talk about.”

I blew out a long breath. “Aye? Is the sky a no-fly zone all of a sudden?”

Gordain gave a small smile. “Ye volunteered to fly for the mountain rescue service. You’ve been putting in the hours, and I don’t doubt your will to do a good job. The only element you’re lacking in is experience of challenging conditions.”

That was true. “How do I get that? Even if I keep flying private hire for a while, chances of going out at night into a storm are rare.”

After the conversation we’d just had, and the threat to my job, I was ready to fight for the other aspect, the one I so badly wanted. Even if it was short-lived. Without waiting for him to answer, I launched into my reasoning.

“I always wanted to do this. I’m naw sure if ye remember, but a long time ago, ye told a story at a family gathering about being on the end of a winch while a pilot battered ye against a cliff. The rescue was a success, but Aunt Ella said ye were all bruised up after. I cannae stand the thought of a member of my family being at the hands of someone who doesnae care. Or care enough to do a good job. I’ve pictured being at those controls more times than I can say. I will always do better than anyone else. I’d care more. Be more.”

My uncle’s expression lost some of the bleakness, and his more typical consideration appeared instead. “Exactly what I expected to hear. So I’ve arranged something for ye.”

He swivelled and grabbed his laptop, pulling up a picture of a dramatic landscape. An icy glacier crawled over jagged mountains, and a bruised purple sky hosted looming storm clouds. The picture slid into another, this one showing a volcano with an ash cloud rising.

I squinted at the screen. “Where’s that?”

“Iceland. Jordie, an ex-military buddy of mine, runs a heli school there. He and his wife relocated from Scotland with their bairns. The training he offers is intense but epic, too. He’ll take ye out in all those extreme conditions we want, improve your situational awareness, and give ye the experience you’re lacking. It’s a month’s course, and you’ll live with other pilots in a bunkhouse. The Icelandic Highlands are vast, dangerous, and you’ll be pushed to your limits. Question is, after everything else I told ye, do ye want this?”

“Yes. In a heartbeat. Without a doubt.”

“Good. Ye leave in five days.”

He closed the laptop, and I left his office, stunned at the turnaround. Gordain had delivered my dream training on a platter, while scaring the life out of me with the threat to his business.

I couldn’t control that, and stressing over it was going to drive me mad.

So I did the only thing that could distract me. My other project: finding my brother.

While forcing myself to stop thinking about his lass.

After a series of false starts, I finally got a lead on the missing part for Max’s motorbike. I’d rang dealerships and workshops without luck. But I’d remembered a guy from uni had a brother who was into bikes and did repairs. I’d shot him a text, and his reply landed.

Lucas: Yeah, he has one of those. But you’ll need to grab it asap or it’ll be gone.

I punched the air and sprawled back on the sofa in my cottage.

Maddock: Save it for me? I really need it.

Lucas: Seriously, man, it won’t be here tomorrow.

Maddock: I can come down tonight. Give me an address.

He did along with another warning to move it or lose it. Lucas and his brother lived in the Borders, right at the line that divided Scotland from England. I’d been there once, and the trip was over three hours by car. But that distance was no issue when you could fly.

I sent Gordain’s administrator a quick message, booking a private hire heli for the trip, then filed a fast flight plan. It would be dark by five tonight, but flying by instruments was no worry.

Someone hammered at my door.

“Maddock!” a voice sang.

A tiny bark followed.

I leapt up and traipsed to the door, swinging it open to find Isla and her new puppy on my doorstep.

Isla was my seven-year-old niece. Cait, my sister, had married her da, Lochie, the leader of the mountain rescue service, and they lived right next door to my isolated home.

The puppy was a brand-new addition. A gift to Isla to celebrate the baby Cait was expecting in January.

I loved having the family next door, even if I had to pretend that surprise visits from the little lass interrupted my bachelor lifestyle.

The afternoon sun warmed my face, and I stepped outside and sat on the ground, letting the pup clamber onto me.

His tiny, sharp claws dug into my jeans, and I gave him a knuckle to gnaw on.

“Hello to my favourite niece.”

Isla planted her hands on her hips. “I’m your only niece. On my birthday, I’ll be eight. Can you take me for a ride in a helicopter?”

I performed some quick mental maths on when her birthday was, and how long I’d be away. I also had a flush of pride at her asking this of me. She liked my twin better. Max had an easy manner with kids.

“That can be arranged, if your parents allow it.”

Her face lit. “Really! Can ye land in the middle of my party and can all my friends come with me?”

A gang of sugared-up girls and boys jumping around the cab? I suddenly regretted my ready offer. “There will need to be an adult with each child, and I might not be able to do it on your exact birthday, but it’ll be soon after, I promise.”

She accepted my amendment with a whoop, then grabbed the puppy and danced him on his back legs. I chuckled to watch them, then laid back as the black-and-white dog pounced on me again. He scampered onto my chest, then froze and made a yakking sound. I recoiled, but too late.

Puppy puke landed on my shirt.

“Oh, yuck,” Isla said.

“Whoa.” I jerked up and plucked my shirt away from my skin, the dog dropping to my lap.

So gross. Carefully, I balled up the soiled part and dragged the shirt over my head.

“Is that grass? What have you been eating?” I asked the animal.

He yapped and scarpered.

“No! Was he sick on you, too?” Cait emerged from her cottage door, her very pregnant belly preceding her.

“Uh-oh,” another voice came.

I raised my gaze to find none other than Rory advancing up the track. Her focus flitted over my bare chest, taking in my ridge of ab muscles and across to my tattoo, amusement clear in her looks.

Shite.

I stood and chucked the ruined shirt inside my doorway. Then I faced Rory again, lost for a moment in the sight of her. Her arm was no longer clutched to her chest, though she held it gingerly. Her long brown hair swept over a shoulder in a tumble of curls, and her pretty eyes sparkled.

My sister clucked her tongue. “Maddock, stop flexing at the lass and go find yourself another T-shirt.”

With an eyeroll, I folded my arms and leaned a shoulder on my doorframe, not giving Cait the satisfaction. Even if my enjoyment was more from the faint flush on Rory’s cheeks.

“Who are you?” Isla asked. “Ma, she’s really pretty.”

“We don’t talk about people like that,” Cait admonished.

Rory grinned. “It’s okay. I’m Aurora, but you can call me Rory. I’m Elise’s sister.”

“Cameron’s girlfriend, I know her,” Isla reported with the confidence of a knowledgeable child. “I wanted their collie dog to have puppies so I could have one, but Cameron said she needs to be a working animal. So Daddy bought me Jasper.”

Rory crouched and put out a hand for the pup. Jasper, whose name I’d only just learned, skittered over, his tail wag shaking his entire body.

“Why are you such a cutie?” She ruffled the fur on his head.

“Watch out for that one, he’s dangerous,” I said.

Rory’s gaze sought mine.

Yet another flash of heat stole over me.

Even without looking, I sensed my sister’s amusement.

“As Maddock seems to have lost his manners, I’m Cait, and this is my daughter, Isla. Maddock’s my baby brother.”

Rory dragged her attention off me and smiled at my sister. “It’s a pleasure. Hey, Isla, am I right in guessing you’ll be a big sister soon?”

Cait gave a happy laugh and rubbed her belly. “Good guess.”

“I love babies. In ten years, I want a house full of them,” Rory said.

“When the bairn comes, ye can help me babysit,” Isla offered. “I’m not old enough yet to do it on my own. I’ll let you help.”

This was too cute, all of it. But I was burning up to know why Rory had come. Hopefully, it was to see me, and even though I’d resolved to avoid her—made easier by the fact I was leaving soon—all I wanted now was to whisk her inside my cottage, close the door, and have her attention fully on me.

I was already halfway to being naked.

Letting her finish the job was all too easy to imagine.

“Rory,” I blurted, interrupting whatever my sister was saying. “I’m worried about ye hiking, considering the trouble ye got into last time.”

She pursed her lips and regarded me.

“It’s safer for the locals if ye stop here for a coffee instead,” I added, unable to contain my grin.

Challenge flared in her gaze. “Is that so?”

“Come, Isla. Let’s get Jasper used to the lead and take him for a walk. Nice to meet ye, Rory,” Cait helped out.

Rory waved them goodbye then slipped past me and entered my home.

In a kind of dreamscape, I followed her and closed the door. Then I leaned back on it, my hands behind my back.

My muscles bulged, rigid with how hard I was holding myself steady. With effort, I stamped down the desire to stalk over, wind those long curls around my hand, and claim the lass’s mouth.

Rory trailed a finger over the back of my sofa and peeked around the room.

I tried to see it as she would, the desk under the window where I made flight plans and logged pilot hours, the jumpsuit hanging on my bedroom door, the small number of photographs I’d taken from the cockpit and printed for my wall, mixed in with ones of my family.

Her attention for these things was fleeting, as Rory turned back to me. Unnamed emotion burned in her gaze, and her focus drifted lower, down my torso. “Is your tattoo of mountains?”

I raised a shoulder, enjoying myself. With my fingertip, I pressed the helicopter that soared through my ink, warmed by the lass’s fierce attention. “Aye. If it bothers ye, I’ll grab a fresh shirt.”

Rory’s eyebrows lifted, but she made no such order. “Why, when I can enjoy the view? There is something I need to tell you, though. Max replied to Cameron earlier. The jerk said he was away working, but he’d be back next week.”

At my brother’s name, the tension left me. “He’s working? I figured he was off licking his wounds or on some kind of bender. It hadn’t even occurred to me this was something to do with his job.”

“What is his job?”

How had he never told her this? “He’s a mechanic. He works in a classic car repair garage on the estate.” Then the reality of her statement kicked in. “If he isn’t going to return for a week, I’ll miss him. I’m leaving for training.”

“I’m leaving this weekend, too. Back to the States.”

Which meant she’d miss him as well. I shrugged off my other, wilder emotions and concentrated on that point. “I need to find him before then. I’ll drive over now to see his boss. She’ll know where he is.”

Rory dusted her hands together. “I’ll come with you. We’ll have that coffee another time.”

I strode away to wash up and collect the shirt I should have already put on, dismissing my hesitation over bringing Rory with me. She wanted to see Max, I did too. This was a shared mission, not a ploy to spend more time with her.

Outside the cottages, my sister glanced over from her short walk away down the slope. She waved at Rory and watched us get into my car. Later, she’d pepper me with questions in the way only a nosy older sister could. At least I had a good answer for my interest in Rory.

Isobel’s garage was nearby, not far from the house she shared with Lennox, the oldest of my cousins.

At the sound of the engine, Isobel emerged from the open doors, swiping at her fingers with a rag. Over her head, the sign for Fitzroy Classics proudly announced her business.

“Hey, Mads.” She waved. “For a second, I thought you were your brother, and I was wondering what the hell you were doing back already.”

“Ha, so I’m not the only one who confuses them.” Rory hopped down from the car before I could get around to open her door.

“When they were little, I only visited here a couple of times a year, so I got them wrong every time,” Isobel confessed. “I guess that happened to you, too?”

“Spectacularly,” I side-mouthed to Rory.

She shot me a look. “Only once. I can see all the differences now.”

I returned my gaze to Isobel. “This is Rory, a friend of Max’s. We’re trying to track him down before she has to leave. Can ye tell us where he is?”

Isobel rested a hand on the garage’s doorframe. “He volunteered for an outreach programme for kids who are in trouble at school or excluded from college. Right now, he’s somewhere up on the north coast going between little communities, teaching the teenagers basic mechanic skills and helping them fix up their rides.”

I blinked at her description. “I had no idea he was doing something like this.”

“You know your brother. He’s not one for positive attention.”

We had that in common—I never wanted to shine, only do well.

I palmed my neck. “Do you have a list of locations he’ll be going between? I’ll drive up and see if I can find him.”

Isobel squinted. “Why don’t you just ring him? Oh shit, did you two fall out again? Seriously, you’re worse than my toddler and his friends at nursery. Now I understand Max’s urgency in leaving for this volunteer work. It was all ‘Hi, Isobel, I’m off. Bye, Isobel’.”

“Aye, maybe. The locations?” I prompted.

“He started on the Isle of Skye. Then I heard he was in Ullapool, staying at a backpacking place there. But that was a few days ago. I think he was heading northwards after that.”

Which could place him anywhere in a vast rural landscape.

My shoulders sagged.

Rory poked at her phone screen. “Whoa, those are some pretty places.”

“Right?” Isobel agreed. “There’s a route called the NC500—the north coast road—that takes in the most beautiful places. Isolated beaches. Castle ruins. Winding roads through incredible countryside with no one else around. I drove part of it with my husband. It’s worth getting out there if you have time during your stay.”

“I wish, and that’s just gone right onto my newly created bucket list, but I’m here to spend time with my sister. Next visit, maybe.”

I thanked Isobel, ready to leave, but another thought sprang to mind. “Oh, before I go, I’m fixing up an old motorbike of his. His first scrambler. I’m going to grab a piece for it now. Can ye do the repairs for me if I bring the bike here?”

I’d already checked with her other mechanic that they didn’t have the part lying around, but it would make things so much easier if Isobel could do the work.

“His Ducati Scrambler? Wow, you must have done something bad if you’re stumping up for that instrument panel. But he loves that bike, so it’s a step in the right direction. Just tell him you got the part cheap or he’ll flip.”

Despite her tease, Isobel agreed to do the repair, and Rory and I returned to the car and got back on the road.

In the passenger seat, Rory twisted to face me. “So, you’re planning to go find Max?”

“Yep. I’ll try to bring him back in time to see ye.”

She hummed, tapping her lip.

I wanted to know what she was thinking. Or engage her in a conversation of any kind.

“First, I’m going to fly down to pick up that part,” I said fast. “Come with me?”

The colour paled from her cheeks. “A flight?”

“Aye, I told ye I’m a pilot. I’ve a helicopter waiting.”

She stared then closed her mouth with an audible snap. “What if I told you I’m afraid of flying?”

“Didnae ye catch a plane here? Or was it a long, cold swim across the Atlantic?”

She narrowed her eyes. “I took a sedative and slept for most of that flight. I was pleasantly drowsy for hours after, too.”

“Ye mean when ye kissed me?”

“My head was clear by that point,” she mumbled, turning back to face the front.

Sharp need clawed through me. I was torn and twisted by this woman. I wanted her. I wanted my brother not to hate me.

I was definitely never having casual sex with anyone again, which ruled out all the other ideas drifting through my head.

Yet I had no single clue where Rory’s mind was at, and that had the potential to drive me nuts.

“I’d like to talk more with ye,” I admitted. “We’d have the chance on the trip. It’s only a couple of hours.” In a safe space where I’d have to concentrate on my instruments and not consider ways I could kiss her.

If I could change how I saw her, by understanding how much she was into my brother, that would kill all desire dead.

“Say yes,” I demanded again.

“Get into a flying death trap and soar into the dusk? Sure, why not,” she answered. “Nothing wrong with that picture.”

“Grand.” I put my foot down and set our sights on the hangar.