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I opened my mouth, swinging my gaze between the people in the room. I’d woken up determined to get out there and find the man who was threatening not only me but Jackson, too. I didn’t want to be managed. Coddled. But equally, I had no intention of becoming a hazard.
I knew from Cait, who’d married Lochinvar, that she’d had a stalker who’d pursued her here, years ago. She’d driven out, and he’d caught her. Lochinvar had turned the world upside down to get her back and nearly died for his efforts.
Horrendous. Ugly and violent.
I couldn’t even comprehend the same happening to Jackson if I was the one in the clutches of a maniac.
My rebuttals died on my tongue. “Who will drive my car? If Larson is watching, he’ll know it’s a trap if someone else gets in it.”
Ben answered. “Isobel. She used to race so is probably the best driver on the estate. She’ll wear your ski suit and hat, which she is collecting now from the snowboarding centre. You’re about the same height and both dark-haired, and if she hides her face well enough, it should work.”
Dread sank through me. “I don’t like putting her in danger.”
“We don’t think she will be. Even if Larson pounces quickly, the rest of us will already be there and can respond. The more likely scenario is that he’ll wait it out until he can’t resist any longer. Isobel will leave the car at the cabin, change clothes, then ski away. Lennox will pick her up soon after. We worked out a route earlier that’ll mean she can get away fast on a cross-country ski trail.”
“While I stay here and the rest of you lie in wait,” I muttered, then turned my gaze on Jackson. “What about you?”
“One option is that I wait in the cabin,” he replied.
Instant panic rushed me. “Just sitting in the line of fire until he arrives?”
His expression remained stony. “That’s the idea. He blew up my car. He already knows we’re…friends.”
Pressure steadily built around me. There were too many people watching, or listening, in my brother’s case.
My voice came out tight, my stomach sickening. “You plan to go face to face with him?”
“It’s the best way to find out what he wants.”
“Or to get yourself killed.”
He worked his jaw. “Ben, Valentine, and Gordain will be close by and watching, so we’ll know the minute he shows up.”
“I hate this idea,” I gritted out.
“What else are we going to do? We’re not the police. To capture and interrogate him is a police matter, and we already know they aren’t prioritising this. Once there’s proof he’s done something wrong, they will. So it’s up to us to talk to him. That’s our objective.”
I gave a single, adamant shake of my head. “Then I’ll be the pawn. I’ll sit in the house and wait for him.”
Jackson’s reaction was immediate. “Not happening.”
I stared him down, the rest of the room fading around me until it was just us, locked in this battle. “Then the same applies to you.”
There was a moment of balancing.
Stubbornness meeting protectiveness.
A silence seemed to settle into realisation across the whole team.
Ben tapped his desk. “The alternative is no one’s in the house after Isobel leaves. Jackson can take a guard position like the rest of us. Watch and wait.”
I shot my gaze to him, hope replacing my panic. “I like that a lot better. What happens when Larson appears?”
“Like Jackson says, we have microphones in the house. We can talk to him remotely.”
I exhaled. “Okay. I agree.”
Too quickly, everyone was moving, positions set and the plan underway. Jackson and his team left, and Isobel turned up at the hangar in my clothes, looking remarkably me-like. She hopped into a taxi someone had rustled up to drive out to the garage, and I got lost in the memory of how I’d huddled around Jackson for as long as I could in Callum and Mathilda’s spare bedroom. We’d slept, locked together, but had otherwise just held each other.
