Chapter 10

Everything in her vision coalesced to the monster in front of her.

The road, if it could be called that, wound endlessly down to the slippery rocks. Rising scores of feet in the air, it was a testimony to what could happen when nature ran amok. She could almost see the area shaking, the escarpment quivering as rocks tumbled down its side in the unexpected quake. Birds fleeing, small animals crushed to lifelessness in mid-escape as boulders fell.

It wouldn’t be so bad on parts of it, as it was perhaps—her brain measured distances easily, a necessity for a shooter—five feet wide. She wasn’t full blown agoraphobic, but under times of extra stress it gripped her harshly.

The wider spots, she could do it. Maybe.

But it was the stretches in between that were three? four feet wide if she were very lucky, where she knew—she just knew—

It would take a miracle to get her across.

She hauled in a full, deep breath.

Realistically, there was a path. She should be able to get across it.

For someone who was sure-footed, even a trapeze wire was a surmountable path from one destination to another. A relatively casual one, traversed hundreds of times without incident. A safe haven, as long as one’s wits and training were about them.

But for someone like her who had been foisted up onto on an old swing set when they were just shy of eight and ordered to walk along the rounded pipe framing the top of it high above the ground, it was a nightmare.

The babysitter had wanted to boast to her parents that she’d coaxed her into taking the next step in her pursuit of gymnastics. The shrewd, power-hungry teen had seen her youthful prowess on a children’s balance beam in the mansion and wanted brownie points, at her expense.

Abby winced as she remembered. The balance beam in her playroom was low, yet had soft things placed about it. Puffy mats, a couple of huge pillows, ready to cradle her in case she toppled.

The swing’s frame was ten feet high and nothing surrounded it except for grass and hard dirt.

It had been horrendous. She’d been old enough to know how bad it could be if she didn’t make it, and she’d cried and protested, but she’d been pushed up there anyway. Commanded to perform.

And instead she’d fallen hard onto the ground.

Surprisingly, it was the one time her parents jumped to examine her, had the doctor look at her. She’d been fine. No bruises, because, as she’d later figured it out, the spongy spring ground had absorbed her fall. And once she was pronounced sound, their attention was gone.

But since then, heights had frozen her and set her panic response to high.

Dare’s voice sounded in her ear. “I’ll walk beside you where I can. And where I can’t, I’ll hang on to you. I’ve got your camera, so it’s safe. You won’t do this alone, Abby.”

He curved his fingers around her waist, tugged her back against him.

She was aware of him behind her, his hard chest, the strength running through him. Weird how he’d turned up right now, when she was facing one of her biggest threats. Even before he’d become her lover, he’d been her friend, her staunchest supporter.

It had felt damn good, in the past. Remembering that—only allowing that in, for the moment—worked.

And she was tired of fighting. Too much rode on these pictures, this gig.

She was learning to pick her battles.

“You gonna do this?”

“Yeah.” Had that been her voice?

“Time to start?”

Blood pumped furiously in her. “Yeah.”

Dare’s grip pressed her shoulders.

But she still couldn’t speak. Panic thudded through her system, rendering her mouth dry. Her palms were damp as if she’d dipped them in the ocean.

And he was waiting for her to take the first step.

It was great he was here, but how exactly would she do this? She stared at the stunning blue sky, seeming, for all intents and purposes to her, bleak. Without any answer for her.

Time ticked on, and this wasn’t a holiday, but a job. By four o’clock she had to have the pictures shot, the files transferred, selects picked out and printed, as that’s how McMaster wanted his proofs.

She squinted, scrutinizing the span of blue, begging for courage, vaguely aware of Dare’s hands resting lightly on her shoulders. Scanning for a response. Anything.

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

Her legs shook. Maybe this wasn’t going to work. Sweat glazed her forehead. Maybe everything she’d tried to do on this shoot was a mistake.

Maybe everything in her whole blasted life was a mistake. Maybe everything was…

Then far off in the distance, something, Tiny, barely visible, but it was there. Movement. A speck in the endless blue. Straining to make out what it was, her gaze honed in on it and as she did, her breath caught in her throat.

A falcon dipped through the sky fluidly, coasting from the top of the escarpment.

The bird spread its wings and held them taut, cutting a smooth line through the air, holding the pose in the void between heaven and earth. Sailing. Sailing through the sky as if the medium was made just for its existence. Fearless. Steady.

As it completed its huge arc halfway across the cerulean sphere it dipped low, then soared even higher, and she read a raw passion in its movements. Unbridled delight in its ability, in its supremacy. It marked its aquiline signature across the clear blue sky for all to see.

And in its clear, flowing movements she read joy. Jubilation. Trust in its ability and in life.

And energy began to seep back into her limbs.

The falcon had its job to do—which it obviously loved—and so did she.

And her job lay down there, on the slick rocks. Capturing photographs for McDufus, who only viewed them as a means to an end.

But to her, they were life. Joy, too. Not these ones particularly, but the job was.

Lifting her hands to Dare’s, still firm and now on her waist, she clasped them, squeezed. His big, rough fingers were like an old friend at this moment. Had always been there for her, mostly, anyway.

And lifted them from her waist, released them.

She heard his mutter of surprise. “What?”

She didn’t turn around. She didn’t dare take her eyes off her goal, now that she’d made it hers. She scraped out an explanation. “You’ll be right behind me?”

“I can either be behind you, or try and...”

She heard the shift in his voice as he turned his head, probably scrutinizing their destination to the left, where the crazy road curved. He’d donned his tradesperson’s persona, measuring the task ahead and the resources needed.

Taking in a deep, stabilizing breath as he talked, attention momentarily off her, she stepped onto the path.

“…hold on to you. It’s wide here, coming off the mainland, but down there, I’m thinking it’s…”

She flexed her knees lightly, ensured herself of her footing. The path was solid.

He continued the discussion with himself. “…doable. Maybe what we’ll do is go real slow at first, so you acclimatize, then…”

Noise. Much as his voice had been comforting at times, right now it was a distraction, and she couldn’t afford to rent her attention from her mission.

Focus.

And now—move.

She took a step. Swallowed deep. Took another, the front part of her sole skimming along the dry ground. Shuffling along, really. But measuring.

Keep going.

Shuffled ahead two more steps, aware of the sudden loss of heat from Dare’s stabilizing presence at her back.

Held her breath. God.

She was really alone out here.

“…when you’re ready, we’ll…Abs?” She vaguely processed the surprise in his voice as he likely sized up the sudden distance between them, but that was a non-essential, so she blocked it out. What was important was that she keep moving. Do what she had been called upon to do.

She needed everything, absolutely everything, for this journey.

She took a real step this time, placed one runner in front of the other on the clay path, the fine dirt smooth under her thin soles. Time was moving on. Momentum was important, if she wasn’t going to spend her next whack of birthdays out here, for crying out loud.

Her feet moved forward, starting to establish a rhythm. Then her eye flicked to the side and a spasm of terror ricocheted through her as she saw the unpleasant, sharp descent immediately to her right. Her stomach pitched and fear hurtled through her. “Dare!”

He was there, suddenly, as if he’d never left her side. Strong hands clasped her upper arms, gripped them. Forced life-affirming blood back into them. His deep voice shored her up, relieved her, even if but for a second. “Hey, Roadrunner. You’re doing just fine. We could dance on the path here, it’s so wide. Don’t worry. Just look ahead.”

The playful comment eased her, a tiny bit. And his advice was sound, though she had no voice to tell him. She looked ahead and noticed how far she’d come already and surprise flickered through her.

But they were also solidly on the road now, adrift from safety. Terror churned once again in her gut. She was out here, a steep drop on one side and an inhospitable, rock-laden slope on the other, and no foothold on either side that she could see.

Hell!

“Dare…” Her throat barely squeaked out his name and it was getting tighter. More constricted. “Dare…”

His harsh whisper sounded in her ear as his arm came around front, held her, and she grabbed him, digging into his forearm. “What have I told you? You step aside for no man, Abigail Haines. No obstacle either. You go after what you want when you want it. You hear?”

The words were more a cry for some huge, life-changing feat, not for convincing someone to walk across a dirt path, for crap’s sake. And still she couldn’t talk. But she nodded.

He withdrew one hand from her waist slowly, gently extracting her hold on his arm, and she let him. If she’d drawn blood, well. Not much she could do about it. She had bigger things on her mind. Like survival.

His voice sounded, close. Strong. “Okay?”

She raised then lowered her chin fractionally, denoting a nod.

Dare spoke behind her. “Look there. Right there, Abs. Ahead to those gorgeous rocks.” His voice now was a reverent hush. “You’re going to kill it down there. Maybe win some awards with your pictures. The Booker Prize. Something.”

The joke broke the tension. The playful retort popped out. “The Booker Prize is for books, norf.”

His chuckle joined her soft giggle. Then his voice sounded in her ears once more, and she tuned to it immediately. At the moment, the center of her world. As it had been, so often before. “Soak it in, Abs. That’s your playground, just over there.”

Her stomach unclenched, and she breathed in deeply, rhythmically, riveting her eyes to the black rocks. The spray broke, shot high over the boulders, and she caught a glimpse of the sun arcing through it. Then all was a tumble of froth in amidst the deep aquamarine of the South Pacific.

With his hands still steadying her, she shifted her weight. Started walking.

The rhythm established, they moved ahead.

She tensed as a narrow stretch appeared, allowed her eyes to dip to her feet, only to her feet. Did her best not to sway her vision to the right or the left.

His hands grasped her shoulder, but incredibly, his voice rang out, clear, then louder.

Dare started singing.

One of her favorite I’ll take the challenge songs. She blinked. What the?

But hell, it was perfect. Absolutely…perfect.

A tiny bit of joy fluttered through her, even in this crazy setting.

Back in the day, they’d shored each other up with special songs. When he’d had to face the specter of little income. When she’d tried hard to get along with her parents, but ended up fighting them off in a last-ditch effort to keep herself intact.

Hearing his voice sound clear over the expanse they were travelling over, she also let the song escape her mouth. It sounded shrill at first, but her voice strengthened. Then it flowed, as if it had never been silent.

His voice grew louder, and hers did too. The song rang out in the tropical environ, echoing over the gullies on either side.

Singing, they crossed the constriction in the path and moved back onto a wide stretch again.

It almost seemed easy now. Her stomach lightened, and she noted she’d been clenching it hard, even though she’d tried not to.

They loped along together, the sun glazing the scene with its rays, the sparkling line of it glittering on the South Pacific, the glimmers stretching to the horizon. They travelled through one last stretch of the narrow path, but it didn’t seem so bad now. Then the road widened until there was a drop of a couple of feet, and they were back on terra firma again. Only a few scant stones to the jumble of rocks jutting out of the ocean that were known as Devil’s Taunt.

Dare slung his arm around her shoulder, squeezed. “Fake.” She was aware of a monstrous grin stretched across his face, a million emotions tangled in it. “You told me you had a problem with heights.”

For that, of course, she had to punch him and landed a solid one on his shoulder. But then she just grinned back, foolishly. Happily. “Tease.”

He pulled the camera bag from his waist and looped it carefully around her neck like an award. And if she wasn’t mistaken, she saw that look in his eyes. Tenderness, mingled with that other thing she’d seen very little of in her life.

Pride. In her. The thing she’d always been able to count on from him before the mess that had eaten up their lives.

Dare turned and faced the scene below them, his eyes narrowing as he scoped out the sea-slicked granite she had to navigate next. Turned to her, beaming. Encouraging. Expectant.

“And now, you crazy shooter. I think you have a job to do.”