by Abigail Roux
Ty took a long drink from the cup in his hand and moved closer, wrapping an arm around Zane’s neck to pull him close enough to speak to him. It was impossible for them to remain still in the sea of dancing bodies, with the music pumping through the room, and they were moving by default. They didn’t actually have to move closer to the dance floor in order to dance because the mob absorbed them.
“This is a first for me,” Ty practically shouted in his ear. “Never danced with a guy before. On purpose, anyway.”
Zane smirked and slid his hands down Ty’s back to spread across his ass and subtly pull him nearer, not that anyone would see it for the crowd. Zane wasn’t missing out on this opportunity. He’d never thought he’d have a chance to dance with Ty at all; he didn’t exactly seem the type for a moonlit sway on the aft deck with the small jazz band they’d seen the night before.
And they certainly couldn’t do this in Baltimore.
Ty moved closer, as close as he could get, pressing his body against Zane’s as they moved together. People shifted around them, strangers touching and writhing indiscriminately along with the beat. But Ty’s eyes and hands stayed on Zane and Zane alone.
Chapter 6
THE line for the rock-climbing wall was a long one, and the wait even longer since there was a necessity to watch and linger for the intended victims. The cold was not a problem, but impatience was. He did not like doing what he considered such menial tasks as wet work.
The good weather and party-like atmosphere of the ship made his job somewhat easier, though. People were happy and oblivious, and he was able to subtly insert himself just in front of the two men when they arrived. It was a masterpiece of malevolence, making certain he was the one climbing just before them without anyone noticing what he’d done or what he was about to do.
He carried a small ceramic knife in a bag on his hip, one he’d been able to carry past the low-tech metal detectors, and it was innocuous enough if by some bad luck he was searched by security. It was also easy to ditch if necessary; all he had to do was throw it hard against something solid and it would shatter into a million pieces. On the cruise ship, though, that wasn’t really a problem with weapons. If he was close enough to the edge, he could simply toss it overboard and watch it sink into the dark blue depths.
He didn’t foresee needing to do that.
As he climbed the fake wall, he carefully pulled the belay line to him, collecting it at his belly so no one below or above would see what he was doing. When he came to the spot on the rope he thought would do the most damage, he slid the palm-sized knife from his fanny pack and quickly made a cut, almost a third of the way through the nylon line. It wasn’t much, barely noticeable to the naked eye since the knife was so sharp. When given a cursory examination, it wouldn’t be seen. Only when it reached the carabiner above and the weight of a human body was pulling on it would it become apparent.
After tucking the knife away, he waved to the attendant about three meters above him and slowly began to make his descent. He took care with the rope, mindful not to put too much weight on it and to let it play out at what seemed a natural rate. When his feet touched the padded ground at the base of the wall, he was content in the knowledge that when the rope broke because of too much weight on the compromised line, his quarry would be the one in the harness.
ZANE shook his head and sighed as he stood in the bright sun and crisp winter air, looking up the gray rock wall toward the clear blue sky. He was starting to wish Corbin was a supergeek weasel or an old, portly man who walked with a cane. These things were hell on his nerves.
He brought his attention to ground level, where Ty stood next to him, trying to stay still as a short and rather stout staff member named Manny checked over his harness. Their turn on the rock wall had been by appointment, another demand of their itineraries. The line was lengthy, and it wound around the platform and down the ramp passengers had to climb to get up to this point. The deck level made the lofty rock wall, perched near the stern of the large cruise ship, seem just that much higher.
Zane was now doubting his decision to eat a hearty breakfast. It wasn’t that he was scared, per se. He knew he could climb the damn wall and that he’d be fine, especially in a harness strung on a thick, anchored nylon rope. He wasn’t afraid of heights. It was just the whole falling thing that sort of scared him shitless.
Jingling caught his attention, and Zane watched Ty shake his shoulders out as he tried to buckle the strap of his helmet under his chin. He had fallen victim to one of the Santa hats and was wearing it over his helmet. Zane snorted and reached over to pluck it off and toss it to the side.
“Ready to go?” Zane asked gamely. He was glad he’d lost the rock-paper-scissors game for who would climb first.
“You look a little green,” Ty responded wryly, although the teasing of his voice lost something with the fake accent. His chin was lifted as he messed with the strap, and he was looking down his nose at Zane with a smile. With the helmet covering his platinum-blond hair, he looked like himself again, even if he didn’t sound like it.
Zane wrinkled his nose and stepped close enough to push Ty’s hands away from the buckle, flipping over the twisted strap on one side so it buckled easily. “We’ll be hooked up to something. I can deal. I’m sure it’s a hell of a view from forty feet up.”
“Yeah,” Ty said with a laugh. His voice was full of sadistic glee. “You don’t get seasick, do you? Even on a ship this size, I’m pretty sure you’ll feel the roll up there.”
“I have no idea,” Zane said honestly, setting his hands on his hips. “I guess we’ll find out.”
Even though they’d been settling into their roles on board quite comfortably for the last two days, it was still a slight surprise when Ty stepped closer and gave him a quick, chaste kiss on the lips before turning toward the gray wall covered with red, yellow, green, and black handholds, marking the varying degrees of climbing difficulty.
Zane stood there smiling like an idiot as Manny made certain the belay device attached to Zane’s harness was operating properly, telling Zane that he was Ty’s counterweight and instructing him how to use the simple device the rope passed through. It could be easily secured in case of a fall, using Zane’s weight to counter Ty’s if he slipped. Zane looked up the length of the rope to the anchor at the top of the wall and figured he’d need to keep the rope close to taut, just in case. Knowing Ty, he’d fall and swing free like an acrobat just to make Zane’s harness abuse his fun parts.
“Okay, Extreme Sports Ken, go for it,” Zane said after resettling his sunglasses.
Ty looked back at him in exasperation, one hand on a notch in the rock wall. “Here’s where I ask, ‘on belay?’, and if you’re prepared to catch me if and when I fall to my possible doom, you reply, ‘belay on’,” Ty told him.
“Belay on,” Zane reported dutifully, a few of his academy memories filtering back. He’d had a short course in rappelling way back when, but it hadn’t stuck with him, and it wasn’t quite the same as rock climbing. The commands sounded familiar, though.
Ty cleared his throat against a laugh and said, “Climbing,” before hefting himself up onto the wall. Manny leaned over and murmured to Zane, and Zane obediently announced, “Climb on,” as he watched Ty’s every move.
Ty wore a pair of green athletic shorts and a navy blue sleeveless shirt this morning, both relatively tight to avoid loose clothing getting caught in the ropes or snagging on the wall, and it was easy to see his defined muscles flexing as he deftly moved from one grip to the next. It was obvious he had done this before, and not just on the odd weekend excursion. Force Recon probably got pretty familiar with this kind of thing.
Ty climbed with efficiency and precision of movement, making decisions about which handhold or foothold he would move to quickly and scaling the wall like a spider monkey. It was common sense: the longer he stayed clinging to one spot, the more fatigued his muscles would be and the more difficult it would be to continue upward.<
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Ty didn’t dally. He was heading steadily toward the middle of the wall and the large outcropping there.
“Great,” Zane muttered. “He would decide to take the toughest route.” As the rope grew taut in Zane’s hands, he carefully let loose some length so Ty could keep moving diagonally. The higher Ty got, the more Zane wished he’d been more insistent about staying in bed this morning, although he knew it was silly. Ty was a highly trained Marine, and a little rock wall like this was amateur hour to him. The thought really didn’t help Zane feel any better, though. Again he thought of Ty swinging around like a circus clown, and he pulled at his harness uncomfortably.
“Your friend’s a good climber,” Manny said appreciatively as he watched Ty’s agile ascent.
Ty slowed to a stop, briefly fussing with the line that had gotten tangled. “Tension!” he called down.
Zane pulled carefully on the line to tighten it up. “Yeah, he loves this kind of stuff,” he replied absently, not taking his eyes off his partner.
As soon as the slack was taken up, Ty started up and over again. He was definitely moving toward the outcropping because it offered a more difficult climb. The outward incline meant the rope would take less of his weight as he went, and it was more taxing on his limbs as he pulled himself higher. Even from twenty-five to thirty feet below, Zane could see the muscles of Ty’s shoulders and forearms bulging as he neared the tip of the outcrop. It then occurred to Zane that he hadn’t even thought about Ty’s fingers. The surgery on Ty’s hand hadn’t been all that long ago, and Zane hadn’t asked if Ty had regained the strength and flexibility he was used to.
As if in answer to his question, Ty gave a short shout of frustration from above as he tried to grip one of the outermost notches with that hand. He pulled it back and shook it, looking down at them as he clung to the underside of the outcropping. He leaned much of his weight on the harness, more hanging in mid-air as he kept his hand on the wall than relying on the holds. Zane thought he might be grinning.
“Fingers!” Ty called down, shaking them.
Zane snorted. “Try using them!” he yelled back up, just to be annoying.
“I did! They didn’t like it!” Ty called down.
Zane could see him searching for a different hold, probably one that wouldn’t tax those weak fingers quite so much. Ty looked down at his harness suddenly, and at the same time Zane felt the rope lose tension in his hand. Zane pulled down on the rope to take up the slack, figuring Ty was preoccupied enough with his fingers not to call out.
Ty looked down at them in consternation. “Tension!” he shouted down, even as the rope grew slack once again in Zane’s hands. If Ty’s end was slack, Zane’s should have been getting tauter, not the other way around.
“What’s with the rope?” Zane asked Manny as he kept pulling on it without finding any resistance. He saw Ty glance down at him and then look up sharply, his entire body jerking in alarm at some warning that Zane couldn’t hear or see. Ty’s free hand scrabbled at his harness, almost in a panic that was highly uncharacteristic of him.
“Rock!” Ty called out, his voice just as panicked as his actions. The warning that an object was falling confused Zane just as much as realizing Ty was trying to untie the securing knot that bound the rope to his harness. The rope in Zane’s hand suddenly thumped to the ground at his feet, and there was a whipping noise as dozens of feet of the heavy blue nylon rope fell from the heights of the rock wall.
“Hold on!” Zane yelled as he realized the anchor rope had just snapped. There was nothing he could do but watch, shocked and sick and scared as Ty fought to find purchase on the wall more than thirty feet above him.
As the rope fell, Ty was still trying to free himself from it. People waiting in line for their turn at the wall began to scream as they saw the two halves of the rope falling. The shorter end of the broken rope, the one still attached to Ty, fell past him just as he whipped the knot loose and threw it away from his body. But the weight of the heavy, falling rope was enough to pull at him even as he let it go, and Zane watched in horror as it dragged his body away from the outcropping.
Ty gave a wordless shout as his legs and one arm swung free from the wall. The rope landed with an anticlimactic thud several yards away from where Zane stood. Thirty feet above, Ty dangled from the outcropping by one hand, body twisting as if buffeted by the ocean breeze.
“Throw down another rope,” Zane demanded of Manny, who was on a two-way radio, waving at someone at the top of the wall. “Inflatable cushion? Anything?” Frustrated beyond belief, Zane moved to try to stay where Ty could see him, close enough that he might be able to do… something. His heart was in his throat and blood was rushing in his ears. It was one thing to be in trouble and stay calm. It was another to be stuck watching it, helpless.
Ty hung there motionless for an eternity. He didn’t kick his feet in a panic or even try to reach for an extra handhold with his free hand. The only things keeping him from falling to the doom he’d joked about not ten minutes before were five white-knuckled fingers.
He looked down at Zane as everyone on the platform scrambled.
“That sucked, man,” Ty called down in a frustratingly calm voice. There was a jitter of nervous laughter and gasps from the watching crowd.
Zane shaded his eyes as he looked up at his partner and swallowed hard before answering. “Will you quit showing off!” he yelled, trying to play off the fear buzzing in the air around them.
“Don’t panic, sir!” Manny called up, sounding frantic himself. Losing a wealthy passenger in a freak climbing wall accident probably wouldn’t look good on him or the cruise line. Neither would the blood smear.
Ty twisted and reached out slowly for the wall. He was hanging from the very tip of the outcropping, possibly the worst place for him to have been stranded. He couldn’t get his feet under him for purchase until he moved. And moving would be hard with only one hand. On the plus side, if he’d been anywhere else on the wall, he probably would have fallen when the rope did.
Ty gripped another hold, and Zane saw the muscles in his shoulders and back bunch as he tried to pull himself further up. When his hand slipped away from the wall again, Zane heard a very un-British curse drift down.
Zane clamped down on the urge to yell at Ty, instead turning to Manny. “Is there anyone up top to drop a secure line?”
“They’re working on it, sir,” Manny said shakily, holding up the two-way.
Zane grabbed it out of his hand and pressed the talk button as he returned his attention to Ty. “Who’s up there?” he snapped. But there was no answer. The attendants who had been up there when Ty started the climb were gone, hopefully in search of another rope.
Above, Ty had regained his hold on the wall with both hands and was merely hanging limp. “It’s this damn ring,” he called down. “My fingers,” he continued, not actually finishing any of the sentences he started as he looked up and around him. It was harder to hear what he said when he looked up, but when he looked back down the people below could hear him say, “The pessimist says, ‘It can’t get any worse!’ And the optimist replies, ‘Oh yes it can!’”
The crowd tittered nervously, not sure whether to laugh.
Ty released one hand and made a swipe for a handhold further away, but he missed and swayed precariously before securing himself to the original one again.
“Jokes. He’s cracking jokes,” Zane said under his breath, deciding that once Ty had both feet on the ground he was going to smack him. Hard. Right after he kissed him unconscious.
Ty had sense enough to remain quiet after that as he continued struggling to find a way up or down, left or right. He made several more failed attempts at swinging himself around the edge of the narrow outcropping, during the last of which he lost his grip with both hands and very nearly plummeted the thirty or so feet to the platform. He slid several inches, scrabbling at the wall with both hands: a split-second of honest-to-God free fall. Zane thought his heart was going t
o stop on the spot before Ty was able to catch another hold and stop himself.
Ty didn’t shout or scream or even curse, which to Zane meant either Ty truly was beginning to panic or his fatigued muscles were about to give out and he was expending all his energy on holding on. Either way, they had to get him down.
The fall, however, proved fortuitous. Now farther below the outcropping with his good hand in a different position, Ty had more options. As two men at the top of the wall finally came to the edge with a new rope and shouted down frantically, Ty was able to pull himself over, slide his toes onto something solid, and press close to the wall. He practically sagged in relief as he rested his arms.
The attendants tossed two new ropes down, both ends landing a few feet away from where Zane stood. Manny rushed to grab one end and attach it to the belay device on his own harness, the other to another staffer, who shouted wordlessly up once they were both hooked up. One of the attendants above swung over the edge, slowly making his way down toward Ty with the other end of the new rope.
Despite the relief of this imminent rescue, the man was still a good fifteen feet above Ty, and his progress down was slow. There was a ripple of gasps and murmurs as Ty began to slowly climb up toward the man who was descending.
“No, sir! Stay where you are!” one of the staffers called out.
“Calm down, kid,” Ty called back in annoyance as he continued to climb slowly. It was obvious to Zane’s eyes that Ty was tired and being far more careful than he had been when attached to the ropes. He was going slowly but making the same pace as the man attempting the difficult descent.
“Hey, Lone Star!” Ty called down again.
