Liam
Liam’s arms tightened around Jaz as stones rained down onto the platform they’d lifted off moments ago. Four pairs of climbers, eight living bodies, all came off the mountain face at once, dangling above the ground from the safety lines. Screams and curses filled the air, the chaos a contrast to the monotone reporting Kurt sent through the earpiece. The pilot still had no eyes on Roman, and the sky would soon be filled with helicopters from the national news, all flocking like vultures toward the sounds of carnage.
Strapped into his rig, Jaz clung to Liam with a death grip that made moving about difficult. Liam’s heart went out to her. First, the truck explosion and the nightmares it brought, and now the realization that the partner she’d been climbing with had explosives right in his pack. Explosives that could have gone off at any time. How was he to tell Jaz that he had to leave her now to go find Roman, lest the asshole had a deadlier arsenal up his sleeve?
“Liam.” Jaz shifted in his hold, but instead of seeking comfort, she pointed back toward the mountain. Liam twisted to look at what had caught her attention.
One of the climbers, the lanky surfer-looking kid with blond hair and playful eyes, wasn’t flailing around like the others. Instead of fighting for purchase, the kid now hung limply on the rope. Blood trickled down his face and saturated his shirt while his partner clung with desperate paralysis to a piece of stone he’d managed to snag.
Of all things to bring Jaz out of her own terror, it was the sight of someone else who needed help. This was why he loved her.
“That’s Corey. Can we grab him?”
Liam shook his head. “Can’t get the helicopter that close without hitting the propellers. That’s why we swung so far away. Kurt called in search and rescue.”
“They can fly closer?”
“No.”
Despite hanging off a helicopter tether hundreds of feet above the ground, Jaz managed to give him a reproachful look.
“They should be able to land over there.” Liam pointed to a large flat portion of the mountain. “Then climb down the rest of the way.”
“That’s over an hour’s climb,” said Jaz. The slight trembling of her muscles was calming now as her attention was focused on a hurt opponent. “I don’t think Corey has that long. What about the Ballerina’s Skirt?”
Liam considered the treacherous ledge that encircled the mountain like a tutu, intersecting with all the climbing routes Jaz had originally set up. In fact, he’d already marked the place as a starting point to patrol for Roman—but while it had good top clearance for a chopper and was a fun technical climb from down up, climbing it from top down, especially without the right equipment, was an exercise in suicide.
As if reading his mind, Jaz gestured toward the skirt. “I can do it. I can make the climb. Fifteen minutes and I’ll be at Corey’s side.”
“Absolutely not. Are you insane?” He hadn’t meant for the words to come out as roughly as they did and wished he could take them back the moment he’d heard what he said. But it was too late. Jaz had already stiffened in his arms, pulling away from him without moving a muscle. “Jaz… I just don’t want to see you hurt. I just meant—”
“I’m clear on what you meant.”
Liam’s stomach tightened at the very thought of Jaz on that stone wall, one wrong move away from disaster. “Dead rescuers help no one. It’s too dangerous.” He took a breath. “I’m not even trying it. And believe me, I would if I thought it was possible.”
“You can’t make that climb,” Jaz said matter-of-factly, her attention on the mountain. There was no boasting or panic in her voice. No excitement. Just professional calculation. “You don’t have the skill, Liam. I do. I’m not asking for your permission. I’m asking for your trust and a ride. Will you give it to me or not?”
This was it. The line in the sand and the soul. Fear closed Liam’s throat, but he’d made the mistake of forcing Jaz down the path of his choice once, and he knew better than to do it again. Especially because Jaz was right about one thing—she was infinitely more qualified to make this decision than he was.
Liam reached up to his headset. “Kurt. We have a change of plan. Update rescue that we’re sending a climber down.”
To his credit, the pilot only gave a brief curse under his breath before changing course and setting the pair of them down on the suicide ledge. Reaching into himself for the operational calm he and Jaz both needed, Liam gave her a crash course in helicopter rescue operations. “Kurt is going to hold the bird as still as he can, but you need to be aware that you can still be jerked off the rock face. Make sure there’s nothing in the way for you to slam into.” Taking off his radio and earpiece, he attached them to Jaz. “The mic is live, so just speak normally and—” Liam cut off as a movement along the side of his vision caught his attention. He spun around, his weapon out.
Nothing was there. Just loose stones.
“Liam,” said Jaz, her voice higher than usual.
He turned back. And found Roman holding a blade to her neck.
“I was wondering how long it would take you to get here,” Roman said, his gaze surveying Liam, the gun, and finally, the sky. Instead of fear, the scene appeared to inject energy into the man. He spoke more quickly than before, his words tripping over each other. “The last time, you misunderstood. How it all is. Will be. But we’re going to correct that.”
Liam held still. With the initial shock of surprise behind him, he could now see a remote control device in Roman’s free hand. Given that the man had already caused one explosion, there was no reason to doubt he would set off the next. Worse still, Roman’s pupils were now so dilated that Liam suspected he’d taken drugs for courage before sending the last explosion breaking up the stone. “What do you want?” Liam asked, keeping his voice even.
“I’ve already explained it.” Roman’s face darkened. “A fair competition. Which is what we have now, provided you don’t interfere. No gear. No buddy system. Just a race of skill to the top.”
In Roman’s hold, Jaz let her hands drop to her harness and fingered the gear attached to the various loops. She wasn’t usually given to fidgeting, and Liam had to trust that if she was doing so now, she had a plan in mind. That meant his job was to buy her time. To follow her lead. Even if he was following it blind. “No interference intended,” Liam said. “We just came to try and get the injured climber out. The surfer boy down there. He’s unconscious.”
“He’ll be fine,” Roman barked. “And we both know you can’t make the climb down from here, so don’t bother lying. I know you came here to hunt me down. You thought you were so smart. Knowing that I’d have to climb the Ballerina’s Skirt. Thinking of snatching me here. But that’s not how things are going to go.” He waved the detonator for emphasis, his words tripping over each other. “You will do what I say. Exactly what I say. Or there will be bodies falling.”
Jaz gave a small show of struggling against the knife at her throat, while quietly pulling an anchor from her belt. The small device in hand, she slipped it into a stone crack by her hip, one so hidden that Liam hadn’t even noticed it was there. But Jaz had.