Page 57 of Sawyer’s Mistake

“No! Don’t do it!”

From above, Sawyer added his voice. She didn’t realize he could hear them. “J, don’t you fucking dare. Storme and the rest of the team will be here soon. I can hold on until then!”

Prado looked unconvinced. “We’re too heavy. If I stay on the rope, we’ll both die,” he whispered.

She suddenly remembered the pair of handcuffs in the breast pocket of her shirt. She and Alix had been practicing their lock picking skills the night before. She brought it out silently and looped it through her wrist. The loose end of the handcuff lay against her fingers, a cool, solid weight.

She looked up at Sawyer. He was sweating, but his gaze held strong. She looked down at her wrist then back up at him, making sure he understood what she was about to do.

He nodded twice through clenched teeth.

“Help me with one thing first, Javier,” she begged.

Prado hesitated for an instant, and she used that moment to close the handcuff over his right wrist.

“What the hell?” He shook the handcuff. “Let me go, Saoirse! You’re going to kill us both. You’re going to kill Sawyer.”

She shook her head, clenching her teeth against the pain in her wrist.

“You’re hurting me,” she whispered.

Prado stopped. His eyes were haunted, his expression anguished.

“If it comes to it,” she said, “we’ll cut the rope.”

“But then we’ll both die.”

“I’m not letting you sacrifice yourself for me. Jake will save us both,” she insisted.

“Stop. Moving.” Sawyer called out from the top of the cliff. His voice sounded strained.

#

Jake

His shoulder finally popped. He roared, the pain blinding as his tendons and muscles suddenly bore three hundred pounds of combined weight.

He tried to breathe through the pain, like he’d been taught to in training, but he couldn’t even get his ribcage to expand around the solid ball that his stomach had become.

Below him, Saoirse screamed. Prado shouted some choice curse words in Spanish.

“Hold still,” he begged, holding on for dear life. If they tried to swing to the wall, they’d rip his arm right off its socket.

I can’t lose her.

He would hold on for as long as necessary.

He leaned forward slightly in an instinctive attempt to release the pressure on his arm. His boots slipped.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He lost all purchase and fell flat on his face. He held on as he was dragged across the mud right to the edge of the cliff. Gravel dug into his cheek, but he barely noticed it. He threw his left arm behind him, looking for something, anything, that he could grab on to. There was nothing.

Below him, Saoirse screamed, as she and Prado fell the same distance.

All three of them were going to fall to their deaths if he didn’t do something. Then, right at the very edge, he saw a small protruding branch. He wrapped his left hand around the branch and held on to the rope with his right hand.

An instant later, their combined weight stretched the rope taught. The pain was wild. A groan ripped from him. He clenched his teeth so hard he thought his molars might pop. The weight of three people hung from his arm. The fingers in his left hand began to cramp almost immediately.