Page 64 of Chasing Paradise

“Vi!” Wick screamed as the bridge gave way from the other side of the cavern, making it drop and swing.

I didn’t even think a cry escaped me as all my focus went to gripping my arms and legs around the remaining bridge.

I wrapped my arms around the ropes, the burn instantaneous and unavoidable as I shoved my legs through the gaps in planks, then tightened them around them.

We seemed to swing forever, my stomach dropping over and over as the adrenaline surged through me.

But I guess I was thankful for the swing. Because I knew what was on the other side of it. And there was nothing I could do to stop it.

The rope twisted around on itself twice, and I tucked my head to my chest and gripped the broken bridge harder just in time for impact.

The side of the jagged cliff caught me in the back, knocking all the wind out of me as pain shot up my spine and across my shoulders.

Tears pricked my eyes as I tried to force myself to focus, to breathe, to not panic and lose my hold.

The worst part was over.

As long as I didn’t, you know, fall to my death.

Somewhere above me, there were the rapid-fire shots of bullets, and my heart ached thinking of Wick up there.

But it wasn’t long before my own survival became a question mark again.

When I felt a hand close around my ankle.

My gaze shot down, and for a dizzying second, all I saw was the drop still below us, the river rushing along with God-knew what creatures inside it, waiting to rip me limb from limb.

At first, I thought the guy—tall and fit in a wiry way with black eyes and a shaved head—was just trying to find something to hold onto.

He was bigger, heavier. It was harder to keep his grip.

But then I felt him pulling, fingers bruising, trying to, what, pull me down? Drop me off?

“Fuck off,” I snarled, trying to yank my leg away.

“Get out of my way,” he shot back, glancing up.

My own gaze lifted, seeing the climb ahead of me, the promise of safety at the top.

I was a bounty hunter.

I roughed people up on occasion, sure. I even practiced martial arts for fun, kicking the shit out of men twice my size.

I wasn’t a killer.

But, I realized right at that moment, what I was… was a survivor.

And if only one of us was going to climb the rest of the way up this broken bridge, it was going to be me. Because there was nothing about this man and his willingness to kill for money that suggested he would get up there, then pull me to safety too.

He’d probably cut the rope.

Then kill Wick.

Steeling my soul and stomach for what I needed to do, I gripped harder with my shaking arms, then pulled one of my legs free of the bridge.

And started to kick.

And kick.

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