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oatmeal and scrolled through his emails while enjoying a dish of fresh fruit. When he finished, he went back to the bedroom to check on James Cullen.

Meredith was sitting on the divan where Ensley had slept, lacing up a pair of hiking boots. She held up her leg to block him from entering the bedroom. “Remain calm. Do not react.”

He stepped over her leg. “React to what?”

“I’m not saying. I want you to experience the same shock I got.” She flicked her hand. “Go on in.”

What could shock him at this point? “Thanks for the warning.” But he did steel himself for the unknown. When it came to his son, it could be anything from making a million dollars overnight to giving away a million. He was often unpredictable but never destructive or vengeful.

Elliott knocked and opened the door without waiting for a polite “Come in.” His feet froze to the threshold. He couldn’t move forward, and he couldn’t retreat, which was what he wanted to do. But he managed to eke out a “Good morning.”

James Cullen sat on the end of the bed, wrapped in the red cloak, a short, white jacket underneath it, stockings, and handmade boots. Paul had shopped for both of them during the plane’s refueling stop at Luton. They were dressed identically, except Paul’s cotton cloak was multi-colored.

What shocked Elliott was not their clothes. It was their shaved faces and heads.

Elliott looked away, overwhelmed by the grief that crashed upon him. The absence of his son’s thick, dark brown hair was symbolic of the loss he was experiencing, and he came close to throwing up.

“We’ll be landing soon,” was all Elliott managed to say.

“Aubrey told us when she brought our breakfast,” Paul said.

“Good. Ye’ve eaten. Well… See ye on the ground, then.” Elliott returned to his seat across from Meredith. “Ye should have told me he shaved his head.”

“And deprive you of the shock? No way. But I didn’t hear you yelling.”

“I think I bit my tongue in half.” He opened his mouth and wagged his tongue. “Is it all still there?”

Meredith grinned. “I’m glad you didn’t lose your sense of humor.”

“I don’t have one anymore. The brooches have destroyed what little I had.”

“Trust me. You still have one, and it’s usually quite charming,” she teased. “At least I think so.”

“So what was yer reaction?”

“I had to sit down, but you know, his shaved head goes well with the red cloak. He looks the part.”

“I’d rather see him at a gala wearing a tux. He always looked the part of a dashing entrepreneur.”

“I don’t think we’ll see that James Cullen for a long time.”

Elliott sighed. “Let’s give him six months. If he’s not better, or at least on the road to recovery—”

“We can’t bring him back to see a psychiatrist. What would he say? ‘I was tortured by the Illuminati and would have died if not for a twelfth-century Viking.’ They wouldn’t treat him. They’d lock him up.”

“We can consider other options.”

“Like what?” she asked suspiciously. “Go back and try to undo what happened to him? We’ve already talked about this, and I’ll never agree to the plan. So don’t bring it up again, or—”

“Or? What? Don’t give me an ultimatum, Meredith. If I think it’s best for James Cullen and the family…” He’d made his point, so he let the sentence die away.

Her brows slanted down like an angry eagle and her left cheek quivered with fury. “Is that a threat?”

He carefully chose a one-word response and the tone in which he delivered it. “Aye.”

She gripped the arms of the chair until her knuckles turned white. “I can’t believe we’re having this discussion after what we’ve been through.”

“Then let’s not have it!”

Elliott took deep breaths while his muscles knotted and every part of him fumed. He craved vengeance for what the Illuminati did to his family.

But taking it out on Meredith was wrong, and he damn well knew it.

70

Bhutan—Elliott

MacCorp’s pilots were certified to make the manual by-daylight-only approach between 18,000-foot peaks, through a long, winding valley, and onto a runway that was only visible moments before landing.

Welcome to Bhutan’s Paro International Airport, frequently featured on lists of the world’s most dangerous airports. It seemed appropriate that they landed here today. The aura of danger around the people inside the plane matched the threat outside.

As soon as the engines shut down, lap belts came off. Click! Click! Click!

James Cullen and Paul were the first to deplane, and Elliott followed close behind. But as soon as he stepped out of the plane, the altitude and humidity hit him with a wallop. He almost turned around and went back into the plane, but he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—do that.

“Dad, you don’t have to go up the mountain. Paul and I can manage.”

Elliott hadn’t even said anything, yet his son sensed his distress. “Yer mother and I want to go. We’ve heard of Tiger’s Nest for years and want to visit the monastery. We’ll adjust to the higher altitude quickly.” Elliott lightly touched James Cullen’s shoulder. “Do ye mind?”

James Cullen shucked off his hand, hissing. “Don’t touch me!”

Elliott’s rejected hand dropped to his side. “I’m sorry, lad. I didn’t mean to hurt ye. Is it just yer arms and shoulders?”

“My chest too,” James Cullen said, moving farther away from Elliott.

Guilt ravaged Elliott’s soul. The damn brooches had broken his son’s spirit and almost killed him, and while he knew one day James Cullen would find happiness, his search might well be another challenging journey.

Meredith and Charlotte followed Elliott across the tarmac toward the customs counter, where they would meet their guide, who had their visas.

“It sounds like James Cullen doesn’t want us along,” Meredith said.

Elliott watched James Cullen and Paul approach the customs counter through an open door. “I don’t think he objects or cares one way or the other. If Paul isn’t nearby, he gets anxious, but if we’re out of sight, he doesn’t even notice.”

“I noticed Paul touched his arm briefly before James

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