Chapter 10
Saoirse
I glanced at my watch as Grandda’s ancient Land Rover rattled to a stop at the trailhead. Five-thirty in the morning and Finn was already there, leaning against his vehicle with Ajax sitting patiently at his feet. The dog’s ears perked up at our arrival, though his posture remained disciplined.
Grandda killed the engine. “I’ve told you a dozen times, I’m perfectly capable of managing the practice.” He turned in his seat to scowl at me. “Forty-six years I’ve been at it. Think I can handle a few days without you hovering.”
“I’m not hovering. I’m being practical.” I’d had to prepare for far more than a multi-day hiking expedition last night, trying to line up additional coverage for the time I was gone. “I’ve written down the contact information for Dr. Campbell and Dr. MacIntyre. Either of them can?—”
He waved a hand in dismissal. “I know who to call if I need help.” Affection softened the gruffness in his voice. “Focus on finding your friend.”
I sighed. “Promise you’ll take it easy? No wrestling with any bulls?”
“Aye, and I’ll be sure not to challenge any horses to a boxing match either.” He nodded toward Finn. “That the lad with the military dog?”
“Yes. Finley Patterson. That’s Ajax with him.”
Grandda studied him with narrowed eyes. “Looks capable enough.”
That was, of course, why I’d hired him, despite our inherent personal friction.
I climbed out. Finn straightened as we approached, Ajax alert beside him.
“Dr. MacGregor.” Finn greeted me with a nod, then extended his hand to my grandfather. “And you must be Dr. MacGregor the elder. Finn Patterson.”
“Liam.” Grandda gave his hand a firm shake. “You’re the tracker, then?”
“Yes, sir. Former Royal Marine.”
While the two of them sized each other up, I hauled my pack from the boot, and mentally checked my inventory against the five-day supply list we’d agreed upon before I’d left Out of Bounds Scotland yesterday.
Water purification tablets, first aid kit, emergency blanket, protein bars, dehydrated meals, extra clothes and wool socks, my sleeping bag, and, of course, a bag with the pajama bottoms Isla had worn when she’d visited to use as a scent article.
Everything was meticulously organized. Finn was providing the tents and some of the other gear.
Grandda eyed him with the same scrutiny he used on questionable radiographs. “Military training’s one thing, but these mountains have their own rules. Weather can turn in minutes.”
Unruffled, Finn only nodded. “I respect that. It’s why I’ve packed extra supplies and emergency gear.”
Ajax sat quietly at Finn’s feet, his intelligent eyes following our conversation. The dog looked markedly more alert than when I’d first examined him at the clinic.
Grandda’s gaze shifted between us. “How long were you in service, then?”
“Twelve years, sir. Special Forces for most of it.”
I’d known Finn was Special Forces. Alex, Callum, and Ewan had been, too. But somehow I hadn’t really thought about what it meant. For all the man rubbed every last nerve the wrong way, that kind of capability would be an asset if Isla really had gotten into some kind of trouble.
“Hmm.” Grandda gave that noncommittal Scottish grunt that could mean anything from approval to deep suspicion. Then he surprised me by extending his hand again. “Take care of my girl.”
“I will, sir.”
Because of course he’d say that. As if I were some fragile vase in need of chaperoning. And yet… the way Finn answered—quiet, steady—sent a little pulse of something through me. Not comfort, exactly. Something warier. Like a door creaking open.
Still, I rolled my eyes at this patently male exchange. “I can take care of myself, thank you very much.”
Grandda turned to me, his weathered face softening. “Aye, but even the best of us need backup sometimes. At least, that’s what someone keep telling me.” He pulled me into a hug, the familiar scent of antiseptic and wool enveloping me. “Find your friend, then come home safe.”
I squeezed him tight. “I will. And you?—”
“I know, I know. No wrestling with bulls.” He winked. “Pippin will be fine. We understand each other.”
Meaning they both spoke cantankerous. God help them both. They deserved each other.
With a final wave, Grandda climbed back into the Land Rover. The ancient engine sputtered to life, and then he was gone, leaving me alone at the trailhead with Finn and Ajax, the mountains looming before us.
Finn was the one to break the silence. “Who’s Pippin?”
“My cat.” The one who’d known I was about to be gone for a few days by the packing I’d done last night and had taken himself off to sulk well before bed. I hadn’t even seen him when I’d poured out his breakfast kibble this morning. The furry little traitor.
“Ah.”
I glanced at Finn. What the hell did “ah” mean? That single syllable seemed loaded with judgment.
After a moment, he looked back at me. “You only have the one?”
“For now.” I frowned slightly. “Why?”
He jerked his broad shoulders in a shrug. “It surprises me, is all. Dinna vets usually have a whole menagerie?”
“Often, but I’ve basically inherited my grandfather’s menagerie since I’ve moved up here.
So that doesn’t leave a lot of room for adding to my own at the moment.
” Even if I did have the time. Which I didn’t.
So far, I’d been able to find new homes for all of the “project animals” I’d taken on.
Falkor had been one of them before I’d convinced Parker he was exactly what she needed.
“Fair enough.”
Finn straightened and gave me a once-over, his eyes lingering on my well-worn hiking boots, water-resistant walking trousers, and the top-of-the-line pack I’d had since uni. His eyebrows lifted slightly, and I could practically see the recalculation happening behind his eyes.
“What?” I raised an eyebrow. “Did you think I’d show up in designer wellies and spritzing dry shampoo into my crown braid?”
He had the decency to almost look sheepish. Almost.
Men like him never knew what to do with women like me. Too polished to be rustic, too muddy to be ornamental. Heaven forbid I inhabit both worlds.
He held up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t peg you as the outdoorsy type.”
Heat rose in my cheeks. Of course he hadn’t.
For all that I’d judged him, he’d clearly judged me right back for exactly the half of my life and upbringing that I’d been trying to escape.
The posh English boarding school girl with the trust fund and the polished accent.
The privileged princess who couldn’t possibly know how to pitch a tent or navigate with a compass.
I opened my mouth to snap back at him, a defensive tirade ready to spill out. But I stopped myself. This wasn’t about me or my wounded pride. This was about Isla.
“Look.” I reined in my temper. “I’ve been hiking these hills since I was seven. I spent every summer with my grandparents, and Isla and I have done multiple multi-day expeditions together. I wasn’t exaggerating my capabilities when we planned this.”
Finn nodded, his expression shifting to something more professional. “Good. That’ll make this easier.” He popped the back hatch of his 4x4. “Let’s double-check our supplies before we head out.”
We methodically went through everything.
Finn had brought additional first aid supplies, a satellite mapping device, and extra rations.
I added my wilderness medical kit, which contained specialized equipment for treating injuries in remote locations.
I sent up a prayer that we wouldn’t actually need it.
He didn’t say anything as he redistributed the weight in my pack, but I saw the faint lift of his brows.
What? Had he expected a lipstick and heels situation? I’d lived out of a tent for ten days straight without a mirror once. I didn’t need his approval. I really didn’t.
Except that a tiny traitorous part of me liked that he looked surprised.
“You’re well-prepared.”
“Foolish not to be.” I was many things, but foolish wasn’t one of them. It was why I’d gone to Out of Bounds Scotland for a guide instead of trying to do this on my own.
Ajax stood patiently nearby, already fitted with his own custom harness and small saddlebags containing his food, collapsible water bowl, and a few specialized items.
“He’s carrying his own supplies?”
“Military dogs are trained to carry up to thirty percent of their body weight. This is nothing for him.” Finn pulled out a satellite phone from a padded case. “We’ll be checking in with base twice daily. Morning and evening. Standard procedure.”
“Base?”
“Out of Bounds. We always maintain contact during wilderness expeditions.”
There it was again—that shift. Gone was the joker. This version of Finn moved with quiet precision and military clarity. He was probably like this when bullets were flying. God help me, I found it reassuring.
He dialed and held the phone to his ear. “This is Nomad checking in for mission start, over.”
I was surprised to hear a response so early in the morning.
“Copy that, Nomad.” Alex’s voice came through clearly. “Weather report shows clear conditions for the next 48 hours. What’s your ETA to first checkpoint?”
“Estimating 1800 hours at base camp. Will confirm position then. Over.”
“Copy that. Echo out.”
Finn tucked the phone away, and I found myself staring. The easy-going flirt had vanished, replaced by someone focused and methodical. Of course he was. He’d been Special Forces, for God’s sake. The man had probably conducted actual search and rescue operations in war zones.
He caught me watching him. “Something wrong?”
“No,” I admitted. “Just… adjusting my perspective.”
He nodded once, then gestured toward the trail. “Are you ready?”
I tightened the straps on my pack, fastened the chest strap into place, and squared my shoulders.
I looked up at the mountains, the early morning mist curling around the treetops like smoke. Somewhere out there, Isla was alone. Or worse.
And I was walking into the wilds with the one man who made my skin prickle—for reasons that had nothing to do with danger.
Let’s find her and get this over with.
“Let’s go.”