Page 38 of Blind Luck

Rusty touched my shoulder. “You okay?”

Breathe.

Just breathe.

“I’m not going into the canyon. I can’t. Ican’t.”

“Okay, fine,” Sin huffed. “You fly the helicopter, and I’ll dangle at the end of the rope.”

She put her hands on her hips and tried to stare me down, but I stared right back. She thought I couldn’t win a staring contest? I’d had plenty of practice at this—sister wife number one was a real bitch.

Far below, the dog let out a whimper.

My eyes prickled. I’d have to do this, wouldn’t I? If I could survive half a lifetime at the Promised Land, then surely I could get through a half hour in a canyon. I’d be able to see daylight. Sin and Rusty would be right there. My chest tightened just from thinking about it, but?—

“Do you have a harness that will fit me?” Rusty asked.

“You’re the client,” I reminded him, right as Sin said, “You don’t like heights.”

“I don’t like doing surveillance in Las Vegas either, but I’m still here. We have dogs on the farm at home. Just give me the fucking harness.”

Sin surprised me by acquiescing without complaint. “Okay.”

“And I’ll need a bag to put the dog in. Food to bribe it with too.”

“I have a croissant in my purse,” I offered, desperately trying not to sob with relief. Sin didn’t even attempt to hideher eye roll. “What do you have with you?” I snapped. “A Powerbar?”

“Electrolyte gel,” she admitted. “And I don’t carry a purse either.”

“Really? Then where do you keep your knife?”

She fixed me with a steely gaze. “In. My. Bra.”

“Ladies…” Rusty tried, and he sounded a little nervous. “The dog?”

Rusty was crazy. Sin was crazy. We were all freaking crazy. Fifteen minutes later, Rusty was lifted off the ground, dangling thirty feet below the helicopter, swinging gently in the downdraft from the rotor blades. Sin couldn’t see him too well from the pilot’s seat, so I stood to the side and directed her with hand signals until he disappeared into the crack. Once his feet touched the dusty floor of the canyon, I waved her down and she joined me at the edge once she’d landed.

“The dog’s terrified,” Rusty called up. “It ran into a crevice, and it won’t come out.”

“Can you reach it?” Sin asked.

“It’s too far back.”

Fantastic. Now we had to play the waiting game. Rusty tore off pieces of the croissant and made a trail to where he sat cross-legged.

We waited.

And waited.

My phone had no signal, but Sin obviously used a different network because she was scrolling through her messages and tapping away at the screen.

“Is now really the time to be checking your emails?” I asked.

“I’m lining up an emergency veterinarian for the dog.”

Oh. “Do you think Rusty will catch it?”

“Well, we’re not leaving until he does.”

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