Chapter 9

He was right. She didn’t like it.

Abby peered at the empty air extending out below them at the edge of the sheer drop with a feeling of sick pummeling her veins.

The road crossing the valley to Devil’s Taunt wasn’t washed out completely, but a huge chunk of it stood in the tropical landscape like a weird, dirt highway in the air without any stabilizing feature on either side. The calls of island birds rent the air in the eerie silence, their hyper-speed caws adding to the wild feel of the environ.

She blinked rapidly, tears blurring her eyes.

Dare shook his head. “Bizarre. It’s like some crazy pre-historic sculpture.”

She started quivering, couldn’t stop. The unwelcome panic rocked to her core and spread outwards. She was shaking and couldn’t reel it in.

The thought that she had to walk along that road and keep her balance—not working for her. While a thousand people could do it, she wasn’t one of them.

Damn. She usually had her shields up against the anxiety. She’d learned how to cope with it when it reared its ugly head. But today, everything had been ultra emo. No wonder the old reaction had kicked in.

And she was not thrilled it had kicked in now, in front of Dare. They’d had a little friendly spot for a few moments back there, an aberration, but that wasn’t the norm. Not anymore.

She stiffened her spine, drew away. Her weaknesses were her own damn business. Not his. She’d be damned if she’d show any more while he was around.

“Still have that touch of acrophobia?”

She snorted, in amidst the panic she couldn’t quite quell. “You mean the all-out, debilitating fear of anything higher than a groundhog?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “That.”

“Still there.” She wiped the tears away with a quick swipe of the back of her hand. How the hell was she going to do the thing she must, with this stupid fear still ripping through her life at full Mach speed? And worse, in front of him?

Damn it all.

Dare had grown uncharacteristically quiet. Usually at times like this he was full of all kinds of cheer and good vibe-ery. He didn’t have her weakness. At all. “No one knows, still, I gather?”

She shook her head.

“So you’re good.”

She stifled an urge to shove him toward the road, toward the apex of the drop and let him fall.

And while on a comic level that was incredibly pleasing, she shoved the stupid reaction away. This wasn’t about him. It was about her.

She hated that he was here. But she’d just ignore him. If he hadn’t shown up in a weird twist of fate, she’d have to deal. On her own. “I’ve gotten through every shoot and no one knew. It’s a lot better than it was. I’m fine.”

It was funny, but saying the words aloud infused her with a bit of courage. Maybe it would be fine.

She took another look at the crazy aerial route. The sides of the earth supporting the path curved away and went so far down that not even the hardiest soul would welcome a journey over it. But all she’d have to do was keep upright and not totter over the edge, right?

Hell. Who was she kidding? It was bad. She had no idea how she’d get five feet out onto it.

“What are you thinking? Right now?” Dare aimed the question at her, quick.

“Fuck.” It erupted from her mouth, juicy, full of guttural tones and that odd resonance that comes when the word is spoken firmly with every fibre of one’s being.

She saw in a second, the crinkles appear and deepen around his eyes, and a brightness flash in them. “I can help.”

Help.

Walking the road.

It all zoomed into her mind. Emotion stiffened her, and all her muscles were practically locked. Fear did that to one.

Her gaze pivoted back to him, and she winced.

Just as horrible as a phobia-like fear was depending on someone who’d let you down before. Opening yourself up to someone who’d tossed you aside.

She raised her chin. “No thanks. I’ll be…”

But Dare grabbed her by the shoulders. “A mess? Heaving your cookies everywhere? Or worse, falling and hurting yourself? Why the hell won’t you let me help you?”

She stayed quiet.

His fingers tightened. “Abby?”

Hell. She might as well keep up a winning streak. She kept her mouth shut.

Exasperation slammed into his expression. “You need me, damnit. Even if you hate me. Admit it!”

She glared at him. “I’ll admit I’m better with your hands off me.”

He dropped them immediately, and something inside her quivered. She’d always delighted in his help in the past, eagerly crawled into the safe spot he provided. Now she was shoving him away with all her strength.

It was just wrong.

She wrested herself from his hold. And just at that time, her watch dinged a reminder.

Her life was calling. Her life without him, that was. Her goals. Tasks.

Time for the pity party to be over.

And shit. She knew, intuitively and with a sinking feeling, she wasn’t going to be able to do it.

Not on her own.

* * *

Holy Mother of God, she needed him.

Abby needed him.

The old feeling came back in a rush. Even while he’d always admired her, felt like she was this brilliant ball of energy and light that kept the universe spinning, he’d often felt… less than.

Like—why the hell would she need him?

But when she’d clung to him, opened her soul to him and let him see her weaknesses, he’d found his purpose in life. In a weird way.

Giving Abby Haines the strength to move ahead had always given him a point of delight in his day, a sense of a larger mission fulfilled.

And now? She needed him. She wanted those damn pictures, and he knew she couldn’t do it alone. Not this part.

And part of him wanted her to need him. Needed her to.

He scrutinized her. Her bottom lip was tight, as if it wanted to tremble.

Time to do what needed to be done for his…

No. For Abby. Not his girl anymore.

He put the thought out of his mind and turned his attention to her. “You still want to be one of the Five, right?”

“I do.”

“Well, we’ll just have to do it together.” His fingers slid against hers, rough and calloused. He laced them through hers, and reveled in the contact.

He continued. “Yeah, you’re right. We have a shitty past. One that put us both through the wringer, right at the end.” He gave her hands a reassuring squeeze. “But only at the end. We were always there for each other when we were together, when we needed to achieve some crazy Herculean task, right?”

She nodded. It was true. They’d always been.

“So we’ll cross that damn prehistoric art together.”

The taut skin around her eyes eased for a moment, then tightened up again.

“Okay. It sounds good in theory. But how will that make a difference? I can wave goodbye to your ugly mug as I slide down over the side?”

“Take a look.” He turned her body to a position in front of him, then clasped her to him so they both faced the monster. “Most of it is wide, and I see tracks there. Let me check something quick.” He pulled out his iPhone and tapped the screen.

Abby shivered, despite the heat that was thickly woven into the air. “Maybe I can tell McMaster it’s unstable. No pictures. Sorry, big fat creep.”

“Here it is again. The article. They had a team here, right after the tremor, checking flora and fauna, measuring water levels of organic substances, shit like that. But they couldn’t come by ocean—it was too dangerous that way. So they had to come by this crazy road. They checked it out. It was fine.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Why can’t it be unstable? Let me see that article.” She reached over to pull the iPhone from his hand.

He wrenched it back, almost violently. “No, you can’t. It’s off page.” He hoped to hell she hadn’t seen it.

A picture of one of their day trips, a scenic shot that someone had taken for them, was his screensaver. And off in the corner of it, walking away, there they were. Abby and him. Hand in hand.

Tiny in the distance, but there. You’d miss it if you didn’t know.

He so didn’t need her to see that he had a picture of them on his phone. Shit. Why the hell hadn’t he changed it? He watched her expression, trying to read if she’d noticed it.

Tears filmed over her eyes and she quickly blinked them away.

Shit. He couldn’t know unless he asked her. And he wasn’t going to do that.

He watched her now, in a sulk of anger.

“So, are you going to trust me?” He spoke, his tone a bit ruffled and ill at ease as he pulled the camera from off her neck and looped it around his decisively.

“You won’t let me fall?”

He looked at her resolutely, a stubborn set to his jaw. “You won’t fall.”