Page 6 of Utterly Dauntless

What were the chances the guy had spent the exact amount of time in Oban, or anywhere, in order to hit the road again at exactly the same time she had?

Slim. Very, very slim.

She tightened her grip on the wheel, pretended she hadn't noticed him, and glanced at the mirror at regular intervals. But the distance remained constant. If it was one of Grey's friends, they wouldn't hurt her. It would be tough to shake him off, but she was in no real danger.

So why was her fight-or-flight mechanism screaming?

Who else would be following her? Some creep who just happened to be headed south at exactly the same pace?

She'd already ruled out coincidence. And if not one of The 79, that meant this was intentional.

Despite her comfortable bank account, she never drove anything flashy, didn't wear expensive clothes or jewelry, and did her best not to stand out in a crowd, any crowd. So why would a stranger follow her?

What if it wasn't a stranger?

A wave of icy fear washed over her. She couldn't imagine anyone more determined than Grey Strachan. And she couldn'timagine anyone else coming after her. After years of living off the grid, blending in, and avoiding personal attachments, had she harmed someone without knowing?

The road ahead narrowed, the mountains rising on either side, watching to see what she would do. Each time she saw a flash of blue in the mirror, more adrenaline splashed through her body. Each time she passed an exit, she prayed he would take it. But then the blue would return.

Beside her, the doll rattled against the cake tin. The teacup was safely packed in layers of bubble wrap. As long as she could stay on the road and stay awake, she was safe too. She just hoped the van ran out of gas before she did.

If she had her powers back, she would wish she would have stayed in Inverness, would have risked facing Grey.

Grey! Of course!

He could put an end to this torture.

She pulled out her new burner phone and didn't hesitate punching in his number. He could probably track her before she could destroy it, but she didn't care. Anything was better than drawing out this terror when he might be able to help, and there was no doubt about it—he would be eager to do anything she asked. She was just careful to never take advantage of that.

His voice mail picked up instantly. She waited for the beep.

"Grey? Listen. If this guy in the blue van is one of yours, call him off, would you? He's freaking me out."

She ended the call and tossed the phone on the empty seat. She held her head straight but her eyes cut to the side mirror. The van was catching up!

Objects in mirror are closer than they appear...

CHAPTER FIVE

The rainclouds finally stopped trying to get Grey's attention and moved off. They left a sheen on the cobbled streets that reflected the yellow glow of streetlamps as he navigated the narrow lanes up to Peg's house. He relished the scent of peat and woodsmoke that hung heavy in the air and assured him he was home.

A dull ache pulsed behind his eyes, but he ignored it like he ignored the rain.

Minutes later, his knuckles rapped against a familiar green door. He'd knocked there countless times before—after that first betrayal, then again when Italy nearly destroyed him, and dozens of times between. Now here he stood again, his heart battered and loupin', but still undaunted.

Peg opened the door and gave him her usual resigned smile. "I wondered when ye'd get here." She stepped back to let him in. "Though usually ye dinnae come so late."

The kitchen welcomed him with its perpetual scents of wood smoke and drying herbs. Peg's cottage had been a sanctuary forhim these past years. Tonight, however, the usually cozy room felt charged with possibility.

Bundles of rosemary and thyme hung from the rafters, casting strange shadows in the lamplight. The old stone hearth glowed with banked coals, and the kettle steamed gently on its hook. So many memories lived in this room. He and Aries had spent countless evenings here in those two auspicious, precious years listening to Peg's stories, sharing tea and scones, falling deeper in love.

While he searched for an outlet to plug in his dead phone, he noticed signs of decline that worried him. Cobwebs gathered in corners that the aging woman could no longer reach. Only one cup remained of her prized china set. He'd have to find a way to replace them without wounding her pride.

"Sit," Peg ordered, gesturing to his usual chair. The pink cushion was worn thin from years of Highland backsides. She poured tea into mismatched cups, her hands trembling slightly. "I expect ye already ken she was here."

Grey's fingers tightened around the hot ceramic. "When?"

"This mornin'." Peg settled into her chair with a soft grunt. "And before ye ask, aye, I could have called ye. But she needed to speak with me." Her eyes held his steadily. "And I needed to speak with her."

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