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Late Nights
Arriving back at their Inverness hotel after midnight, Tess tossed her coat into a chair and sank onto the bed. Depleted after so many blindsiding revelations, she pointed to the mahogany wood table graced with three crystal carafes of liquor. “What a welcome sight after this trying day. Nightcap?”
“Yes.” Mark pulled off his socks and shoes, then shuffled over to the drink table. He poured two glasses of whiskey and handed her one.
In the guest room next door, a child wailed about not wanting to go to sleep.
She exchanged an annoyed glance with Mark and switched on the radio next to the bed, hoping a Beethoven symphony might drown out the commotion.
After Mark downed one shot, he got up and poured another. With slumped shoulders, he frowned. “I own my decision to follow you on this adventure, but the Raven’s story floored me. Wow.”
“The Raven threw us a crazy twist, but I can’t begin to unpack it while the clock’s ticking for David. We’ll pick up the USB drive from the Raven, fly back to London, and prepare Declan for the handoff.”
Mark padded over to the room’s window, which overlooked the snake-like curves of the River Ness, dim under the night sky. Standing rod-straight, he set his whiskey glass on the windowsill and stared at the water. He stretched his arms and cracked his back.
She crossed the room and slid an arm under the back of his T-shirt, her palm warm against his bare skin. The room grew quiet, and she sensed an anxious lump rising in her throat. The wall radiator clanked on with a rumble. “What is it?”
Shoulders hunched and head bowed over the windowsill, he hesitated before turning to face her. “I don’t want to say this.”
“Then I will. We’re in a scary, unthinkable situation. Winston Churchill said if you’re going through hell, keep going. I must keep going, but you don’t have to.” She could no longer avoid telling him he needed to go to Bergen. Despite how much she desired him, she refused to risk exposing him to more danger.
He picked up his whiskey glass but set it down without taking a drink. “What do you mean?”
“You need to take the first flight to Norway tomorrow. Fighting Crimson Hammer to save David is my problem, not yours. I won’t let you risk your life over this.” Standing tall, she projected authority into her voice, and paused mid-breath to await his response.
“The police need to run the ransom meeting, but they should minimize Declan’s role, and you should avoid the handoff. Don’t go.” In the room’s dim light, he stepped away from the window and leaned a shoulder against one of the bedposts.
“I can’t let Declan face this alone. He’s determined but also an anxious mess when it comes to confrontation.” Feet glued to the floor, she wavered, feeling like the day’s heaviness might topple her.
“True, but that isn’t the point. I’m not taking some safe off-ramp to Bergen. Whether you like it or not, I’m staying with you until this crisis is over.” Mark leaned his head back and blew out a noisy breath. “The reality is you’re not done grieving Kyle, and I can’t compete with a ghost. At least, not tonight.”
Forced to face an uncomfortable observation she wished to deny, she weathered the wave of disappointment. Protecting Mark’s safety was critical, but confronting her conflicted grief was beyond her capacity now. “Damn it, it’s not a competition. Kyle’s dead, and he’s not coming back. You think I don’t realize that?” She couldn’t contain her frustration. The radiator in the hotel room clanked, and the stuffy, stale air became stifling.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Look, you can’t rush your grief, Tess. Doesn’t work. You learned a lot tonight and need to process it.” Mark raised a hand to his chin and met her gaze. “Take the time you need.”
“I don’t understand what you want from me.” She crossed her arms. While appreciating his compassion, she sensed an invisible wall of tension separating them and couldn’t break through the barrier. One second, she longed to kiss every inch of his body and master its peaks and valleys. Then, moments later, she missed Kyle with such intensity her heart ached.
“We should get some sleep.” He gave her a quick hug and stepped away.
“You’re right.” Blinking, she stood vexed by a hundred conflicting feelings. Too exhausted to continue, she knew each minute dragged them closer to the ransom deadline. Relieved the noise from the neighboring room quieted, she turned off the radio and changed into a T-shirt. Once in bed, she laid flat, grateful Mark was beside her, even though mere proximity didn’t offer the specific comfort she desired. Surrendering to fatigue, she lowered her eyelids and inhaled his sandalwood scent as tonic for her turmoil.
Hours later, deep in the night, a child’s scream shattered the elegant inn’s peaceful silence.
Mark bolted upright and his breaths came in shallow, rapid gasps. He flicked on a light and shook the bed as he leapt to his feet.
“What’s going on?” Wide-awake from the harsh light and motion, Tess spied him pulling on his jeans and a T-shirt.
“Incoming wounded. We’ve got casualties.” He headed for the door.
Alarmed, Tess stumbled to her feet. She slipped on a hotel bathrobe and grabbed the room key on her way out the door to find him. Wobbling on her crutches, she stepped into the empty hallway and checked both ways when she heard the child cry again, with lungs at full strength. Following the sound of the hysterical cries to the guest room around the corner, she saw Mark barefoot, knocking on the door.
A bedraggled man in his thirties wearing red-plaid pajamas appeared at the door and squinted at Mark.
“A boy screamed—is he injured? I’m a doctor.” Mark’s words flowed in a rush, and he peered around each side of the man.
The boy’s father glared at Mark and backed several inches away from the door. “Our son had a nightmare, and we apologize for disturbing you.”
“You’re certain he’s all right? He’s hysterical. I can take him to my hospital.” Mark stepped forward.
