The drive to Edinburgh had been two and a half hours of hell. About an hour in, Beck had stopped calling Riley’s cell phone, knowing it was useless. It’d taken all of his control not to hurl his own phone out of the car window in frustration.
What if she’s hurt? What if she’s . . . ?
“Don’t go borrowin’ trouble, lad,” MacTavish said, as if he’d read his mind.