in her tone that didn’t ring true.
“And?”
“You go first. I’ll follow.”
“I don’t think so.” There was no doubt in his mind that she’d stay behind, stand her ground and fight until she was shot.
Blood spurting from a bullet wound to the chest, spilling out and over his hands.
He pulled his thoughts up short, refusing the memory as he checked the knot on Skylar’s end of the rope and then on his own.
“There are handholds carved into the rock to the left of the cave opening. First one is at foot level.” The notches had been carved thousands of years ago and had been used by native peoples for generations. For those who knew they were there, they were easy to find.
For others, the way up was more of a struggle.
Skylar slid her foot out, scrambled to find a notch. The rain had slowed, but it still fell, making the going more treacherous, the chance they were taking less certain.
He needed to call her back, tell her to forget it.
His plan would have to work.
He’d make it work.
There was no other choice. He couldn’t live with the knowledge that he’d failed to save someone who depended on him.
Not this time.
Not again.
Before he could stop her, she found her footing and climbed out into the rain, the rope tugging against his waist as she moved up and away. At least they had that. If she slipped, he might be able to keep her from falling, the rope between them a safety line that could keep her alive.
Her legs disappeared. Her feet. The rope tugged again, and then dropped, puddling near his feet and slithering over the edge of the cave.
She’d untied herself.
Weak, shaky and without a safety line, one missed handhold, one slipped foot, and she’d fall to her death.
Blood pooling onto the ground, life spilling out.
He moved out onto the rock ledge, his heart slamming against his ribs, fear and fury driving him on. He should have realized what she’d planned. Should have known she wouldn’t do things his way. Not if it meant she might pull him down with her.
He climbed until they were side by side, her trembling body just a few feet to his left. “Are you crazy!”
“I think we both are,” she panted, her breathing barely controlled.
“Focus, Grady. You lose your breath, you’ll lose your grip. Hold your position so I can tie your safety line.”
“Too dangerous. Just keep going.”
“Climbing without a safety—”
“Jonas, shut up and climb, okay? Because I do not have the strength to do what I’m doing and argue with you.” She pulled up another few inches, found a handhold and kept moving.
He followed, his gaze dropping to the desert floor. A hundred and thirty feet to rocky soil and certain death. He couldn’t let her fall. Couldn’t allow her to lose focus.
He stayed silent, following her up inch by agonizing inch. No sign of their pursuers yet, but it was only a matter of time before someone looked up and saw them perched on the rock face.
One shot from a high powered rifle and Skylar would be dead.
Blood spilling out.
Not this time. Please, God. Not this time.
The prayer caught him by surprise. His faith had been so used up, so dried out after the murders, that he’d made no attempt to regain it. Had missed it only in a peripheral way. Church had become an empty ritual he did to assuage his family’s worries. Sermons were just words printed on a heart that was too hardened to acknowledge them.
God was too far to reach, too big to care.
And Jonas hadn’t cared, either.
Until now.
Now he wanted desperately to believe that the faith of his childhood was real and alive. That God could and would reach down and lend a hand.
His fingers slipped on wet rock, his left foot sliding from its mooring. He forced himself to keep calm as he anchored himself again. Ascended another few feet.
Losing focus was a sure way to die, and, if he died, Skylar might, too. He moved up another dozen feet, the cold air ripping through his shirt. Beside him, Skylar eased to the left. Up. To the right. Up. Slowly, surely, making progress.
Maybe they’d make it to the top.
And maybe the God who’d seemed so far away for so long was only a prayer away.
Neither seemed likely, but Jonas forged on anyway, his knee-jerk prayer whispering through his mind, sinking into his soul as he pushed on toward the top of the mesa.
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