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“This looks like a medieval castle out of a fairy tale. Not at all my usual, generic business-travel hotel.” The Gothic Revival architecture and manicured grounds sparked her imagination, and she pictured a different reality, one without terrorists and a ransom deadline.
“As long as we’re not camping, I’m happy. Perhaps we’ll hear mysterious hounds baying on the moors.” Mark switched lanes, and the river came into view.
“How can you keep a sense of humor while slogging through a nightmare?” Wearing a wry smile, she discreetly admired the curve of his shoulder and fantasized about a weekend getaway filled with romantic dinners, breakfast in bed, and lots of sex.
“Humor keeps me sane when reality’s too grim to bear.” Mark eased the sedan into the hotel’s parking lot and chose a spot near the entrance. “I didn’t expect taking leave from my last mission to be this dangerous. On the plus side, it freed me up to chase hackers with a beautiful executive.” He gave her a quick wink.
Laughing, she savored his compliment and wished the dire situation would disappear. “I’m flattered, but I feel guilty for dragging you into this. The Raven’s my best lead. My only lead.”
“I’m kidding, Tess. Mostly.” He squeezed her right knee and pocketed the car keys. “I’ve got your back, but I’ll inject gallows humor where I can.” After helping her out of the car, Mark popped open the trunk and extracted their bags.
Tess visited the lobby to check in, then rejoined Mark to walk to their room. The suite offered a gorgeous view of the River Ness, which wound in snakelike curves past the hotel’s lush grounds. The room’s design channeled traditional Scottish interiors and was composed of dark, wood-paneled walls, a canopy bed frame with thick, spiral wood posts, textured drapes, and a muted plaid carpet. The only nod to modernity was the gas fireplace filling the room’s corner. An embroidered canvas on the wall depicted a kilted bagpiper and a banner entitled Welcome to the Highlands.
Setting the luggage down, Mark pointed at a mahogany side table. Three crystal decanters perched next to two highball glasses, an ice bucket, and tongs. “Phew. Whiskey, gin, and sherry. At least, we’re well-stocked with alcohol.”
“Another win.” Stomach growling, she remembered skipping breakfast. “However, if we’re day drinking, I need lunch first. Let’s go find a pub nearby.”
Outside, she and Mark followed a rugged cobblestone path to the main street and selected a neighborhood pub emblazoned The Highland Arms. Flower baskets stuffed with autumn mums hung from ornate iron hooks and adorned the building’s exterior. Inside, booths shaped like church pews lined the windows, and small wooden tables filled the center of the room.
Minutes later, after they’d settled in at a window booth and ordered lunch, she couldn’t stop her anxiety from rising. Biting her lip, she jiggled a leg under the wooden table. “What if finding this hacker doesn’t help me save David? Kyle said the Raven’s trustworthy, but what if he’s wrong?”
An aproned server appeared and served them huge baskets towering with fish and chips and two pints of dark ale. He set leaky bottles of malt vinegar and ketchup on the table and returned to the kitchen.
“We can hope, but we can’t know.” Mark dug into the battered cod filets and wolfed one down before pouring vinegar onto his chips.
After eating a handful of chips, she took a long sip of ale. “If Crimson Hammer intercepted my call, we’re headed straight into a trap, and I don’t want either of us getting hurt on my account.”
Outside, a few locals passed by, strolling along the stone sidewalk.
Mark stopped eating his cod filet and stared out the leaded glass windows. After wiping his mouth with a napkin, he set his hands on the table and exhaled. “Tess.”
His serious tone caught her attention, and she shot him a curious glance while picking up another chip from the steaming basket on the timeworn wooden table.
“Your caution is wise. I’m relieved you’re not being uforsvarlig, reckless, and you respect the fact you almost died.” He rested his hands on his lap.
“How could I forget we nearly died in that barn? Sergey threatened to slice my throat open.” Tess balked, raising her voice several decibels louder before noticing several pub patrons peeking over their tables with wide-eyed stares. Baffled by Mark’s sad expression, she couldn’t figure out what she was missing.
Frowning, he pressed a hand to his mouth and fixated on the table before raising his gaze. “No, Tess, your leg. Your puncture wounds were so deep that compartment syndrome posed a life-threatening risk after surgery. You could’ve faced amputation, renal failure, or death.” He traced the rim of the ale glass with a finger. “I’ve treated soldiers with less-severe injuries than yours who had amputations or died. You…you almost didn’t make it.”
The air in her lungs disappeared, and she gasped. “What the hell are you talking about? I don’t remember any of this.”
“You were unconscious. I fought with your surgeon over the best protocol to use, and because he agreed to use a method I developed in the field, you avoided amputation.” Mark rubbed his cheekbones with his fingertips.
Upon hearing the gruesome revelation, she recoiled, and her lower lip quivered. Unable to speak, she couldn’t believe she blocked out such a pivotal event. The top of her head tingled, and everything seemed surreal. Hideous images flashed through her mind, and what remained of her fish and chips lost all appeal. After taking an ample drink of her Irish malt ale, she straightened her spine and grounded her feet on the pub’s sticky wooden floor to anchor herself. “The doctors said I suffered a severe injury.”
“Very. You blocked out what your doctors told you—too much trauma to process after the kidnapping. Patients often experience memory loss after accidents. The point is, you’re not immortal.”
As his words sank in, she stared at the tower of alcohol bottles that filled the bar and reflected a kaleidoscope of color in the wall’s mirror. Polished pint glasses lined the counter. He saved my life. She experienced wild emotions exploding inside her like powder kegs, ranging from disgust, horror, and guilt to more tolerable feelings like gratitude and relief. Humbled by the realization, she gained new clarity. “You worried I might die, which is why you were furious about me flying to London.”
Mark met her gaze point-blank. “My mission is to save lives. When it comes to surgery, I rarely make mistakes. Patients who ignore my advice and risk dying for pointless reasons, like refusing basic precautions to avoid amputation, piss me off.”
As her brain processed the severity of what she survived, she wanted to kick herself for the stupid recklessness. Now she understood why Dr. Patel in London rebuked her so harshly. “I had no idea, and I can’t remember big blocks of time at the hospital. You must’ve thought I was crazy.” She lowered her head and felt her cheeks burn.
“Not crazy but traumatized, which is quite different.” Mark sipped his beer and leaned away from the table. “If I haven’t been clear, Tess, I want you alive with both of your sexy legs intact. Please be careful.”
Tess couldn’t ignore the leg under discussion, which throbbed uncomfortably inside her plastic boot. Lack of sleep depleted her reserves. Catching a glimpse of her reflection in the pub mirror, she saw red splotches covering her cheeks. The mood at the table dive-bombed, and she wanted to leave. “Let’s go. Before we travel to Culloden, I need to clear my head.”
She didn’t speak on the walk back to the hotel. Once back in the room, she retrieved her laptop and iced her leg. Unable to shift gears, she failed to coax her thoughts away from the grisly revelation. Meanwhile, the clock measuring the remainder of David’s life continued its countdown. Pressure squeezed her from all sides, like a vise growing tighter every minute.
