Angling his body discreetly away from Jaz and the others, Liam took out his phone and scrolled through the recent emails. Electronics were forbidden for the challengers, who had to rely on maps and skill to navigate, but Liam wasn’t a participant. So ethically, he was okay with it.
The email from his mother was at the top of the chain with another admonishment to stop enabling his sister’s behavior. Then a bill for his credit card, which Lisa had run up. He let out a breath, then with one click approved the payment of the balance in full. Next, Aiden needed an update about the whole Devante debacle, so he tapped out a few keystrokes to give the lay of the land. Then there was a legal cease-and-desist notice from Obsidian Ops trying to keep Trident Security from expanding into a field his company had every right to expand into. A couple more swipes on his screen and that nasty tangle of weeds went to his lawyer to deal with.
Done, done, and done.
“If you don’t knock that off, I’m going to personally kick your ass.” Still smiling for the cameras, Jaz whispered the threat under her breath as she walked by him.
He gave her an innocent look and slipped his phone discreetly up his sleeve.
Her answering warning scowl would have done a Catholic nun proud.
The photo circus finally came to an end with the Clash of the Titans host coming up to the podium for an official welcome and walk down memory lane. A very long walk. Liam pulled his phone back out, caught Jaz’s blazing glare, and made short work of slipping the phone right back where he got it. His hands rose in open-palmed innocence. Nothing to see here.
“That little girl is so out of her league.” The low mutter sounded from Liam’s right, where the other four support people were standing in wait to get the show on the road. The guy who’d spoken had his arms crossed over his chest and wore the kind of condescending scowl that Liam itched to punch off his face. Not just because he disliked anyone disrespecting Kyan’s little sister, but because he disliked anyone disrespecting his partner. It appeared that in stepping up to fill Sebastian’s place, something had shifted inside him. He wasn’t sure what, exactly, but there was one thing he knew for certain: only he was allowed to give Jaz a hard time.
It was a change that would take some time to acclimate to.
Finally, after an hour of bullshit and admonishments on safety, the climbers got the official send-off. Each pair took the direction they thought would lend them most luck. For the next seven days, it would be Liam, Jaz, whatever they carried on their backs, and the mountains.
They’d spend the rest of the day getting to the base point of where Jaz had intended to mark at least two of the routes. The straps of Sebastian’s pack dug into Liam’s shoulders. He wished he had his own gear, but he hadn’t brought a large enough pack to carry all the climbing paraphernalia along with the power cell banks and range extenders for his cell. That part of the packing he’d kept on a need-to-know basis, and Jaz didn’t need to know. He wasn’t a challenger, so he figured he could have his toys.
Once they reached their first camp location, Jaz wasted no time getting herself up on the rock face. The place she’d chosen rose toward a large circular overhang that hugged the mountain. The protrusion was aptly named Ballerina’s Skirt, and she was adorably vocal about her excitement to lay routes cutting through it.
With her neon-pink—of course they were pink—Vector Ascent garments and bright orange ropes juxtaposed against the slate gray of the cliff, she looked like a phoenix swooping up the mountain face with more speed and grace than any mortal should be capable of. As Liam held her safety line, he recalled Jaz’s father calling her climbing a goddamned hobby that she should have grown out of a decade ago and decided that Hugh Keasley was a blind idiot.
But at least Hugh and Lola hadn’t sent Jaz off to military school when she was twelve, the way his own mother did to him. If she’d done it because he was a troublemaker or because she believed in service, or even if she’d just thought it was the best thing for him, he’d have understood. But that wasn’t why Patti had done it. She sent Liam off because the rich parents of the high schooler who’d raped Lisa had paid her to do it. Because even at eleven, Liam didn’t think rape should be ignored and refused to keep his mouth shut.
Liam had cried himself to sleep for the first year away. He’d called every day begging to come home, even when Patti’s newest boyfriend threatened to beat his ass if he bothered his mother again. But Patti had eventually found a more effective solution—she stopped taking his calls. Stopped answering his emails. Signed him up for summer camp, paid for, courtesy of the very same rapist’s parents.
It was the first time Liam had learned that affection and belonging had a price tag attached. That there was always a return-on-investment calculus. That once keeping him around became too costly, he would be shuffled away. At least the military was upfront about it. Told him all the rules.
Liam shifted his weight and took the slack out of the line he held. That was ancient history. Had he been able to protect Lisa to begin with, none of it would be a problem. Now he ran a whole security company and rescue outfit. He really couldn’t complain. He’d gotten a top-notch education, both in a prestigious military school and the one in life. He learned. He grew. He had the Tridents, and that was all the real family he needed.
“Doing okay up there?” he hollered to Jaz, who was shaking out her arms after defying an overhang. They were high enough that the elevation was thinning the oxygen, and it took less exertion to reach fatigue. Not that such things were slowing Jaz down at all from the pattern they fell into.
Jaz lead climbed, hammering the pitons into position as she went. He anchored himself in and fed out the rope until she reached a wide enough landing to reset their belay system. Then he’d climb up to join her, and they’d rest a few moments, the breeze drying the perspiration from their faces while they drank water. Pulled up the gear. Reset and started again. With the fog in the valley still visible below them, it felt like they were scaling their way to the heavens.
But if they didn’t get back down soon, they’d lose the light.
“I’m good.” She flashed white teeth as she peered down at him. “Am I keeping you from playing Candy Crush?”
“You’re keeping me from a nap. Have you checked the time lately?”
She turned over her wrist and swore. “You better be faster going down than going up.”
Liam snorted. Airborne school, search and rescue, ziplining from helicopters. “I’m rappelling. You’re the one picking up gear.” He knew better than to offer to do it for her.
They returned down to the campsite in the same amiable silence. It’d been a while since Liam climbed like this, and years since he’d made a straight descent without having an objective or a victim strapped to a Reeves basket to worry about. This was sport and velocity, and he lost himself in perpetual motion. It reminded him of a runner’s high, and the intense but content look on Jaz’s face said she was feeling it too.
The serenity was shattered by the time they finished the descent, the glorious-looking clouds having decided to take away some of the light they’d counted on. Jaz was stressing she hadn’t gone farther on the first day. Liam was frowning at the tent they were going to be sharing. A nice lightweight and durable contraption that saved ounces by being, well, small.