Page 43 of Stripped

"It won't take long," the agent said calmly. "And it does no harm to have your injuries looked at."

Gabriel walked with him over to the infirmary in the main building. Now, Wraith sat in his underwear on the exam table as the wiry doctor listened to his chest while Gabriel stood in the corner.

"Have you been using your inhaler?" the older man asked him, putting his stethoscope away.

"No, it was becoming a crutch. I'm fine without it."

"Your right lung sounds like hell, and it wasn't a crutch, it was helping to keep the inflammation down," Forbes scolded. "I'll give you a nebulizer treatment."

"I'm fine, really."

"Wraith," Gabriel said politely. "Appease the good doctor and have the treatment." He knew it was the angel's way of saying he had no choice in the matter.

Dr. Forbes prepared the treatment, placing a mask over Wraith's mouth and nose, and turned on the nebulizer machine. His lung burned as he breathed in the medicine. He didn't need to be wasting his time with this, he was worried about Pim. It would be well after dark by the time he made it back to the cottage, and he didn't quite trust her to stay put. The lass never had anyone she could depend on, she was used to doing things her own way and was impulsive. He wouldn't put it past her to leave, especially after last night. For the first time, he saw the fear in those pale clear eyes, and the intimacy of last night alone could send her running. It explained her reckless behavior and why she kept everyone at arm's length. Damn. He'd let things go too far last night. In the end, he had nothing to offer her. The machine started to sputter, the medicine finished. Wraith removed the mask and got down off the table, getting dressed.

"You have scratch marks on your back," Gabriel commented casually, crossing his legs, his blue eyes appreciative in their appraisal of him.

"Last I checked, I wasn't in a confessional." He buttoned up his dress shirt, tucking it into his pants.

Gabriel smiled. "No, but after eleven months, I hope I've gained some of your trust. And you're right, I retired my collar a long time ago."

"He who sitteth on the right hand—"

"True, I do." He chuckled, the pitch deep and with an edge of self-deprecation. "But not everything goes back to Alex. I'm not his puppet."

"Just the same." Wraith grabbed his jacket. "I need to get back to my room."

"Wraith, the scratches?" Gabriel asked bluntly.

"Let's just say our delicate flower has some thorns.

Gabriel escorted him back to his room. "Text me when you leave. I'll let you know what Sin and Storm find out."

Wraith nodded, shutting the door behind himself. He went straight to his rucksack and pulled out his phone. Two missed calls from Pim. He called her back immediately.

"I'm on my way back, Primrose," he said as soon as she answered. "I'll be there in a couple of hours. Don't leave."

"Wraith?"

He froze. He knew the voice on the end of the connection and it didn't belong to Pim. Dark green eyes danced before his face, only to be replaced instantly by pale seafoam ones. His gut clenched. Pim was in trouble. "Yes," he managed to say.

"She's gone. I came by to drop off food for her tea and the door was ajar. She was gone. She left her phone and all her stuff."

"Were there signs of a struggle?"

"No."

Fuck. "Are there any outgoing calls or texts from today on her phone."

"No, just four missed calls from a Peter Brindy and two from Paul Lewis."

"Look, I've got to go. Destroy the phone."

"Robert, wait."

"I can't, Ailsa."

"She's very young."

"I know she's young, and she needs me right now." He hung up and pulled the GPS tracker up on his phone. The pills he gave her this morning were chipped. He would be able to see her location for a few more hours before the chips stopped working. A map of Scotland appeared on his screen and on it, a tiny blue light flashed right over Edinburgh.

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