“Agreed.”
“At all times,” he stressed.
“I will.”
He trailed his hand across the wooden desk. “Even with the slightest problem.”
She looked him square in his hazel eyes. “I said I will.”
“Good.” He paused, and when he drew his lips into a thin line she braced for what he was about to say. “You’ll also need to tie your hair back.”
“What?” she snapped. “Why?”
“Because you don’t want it obstructing your view.”
She clenched her jaw. The temptation to get up and scurry out was strong. But the image of Dorothy, the elderly woman with the lifetime of sorrow, was stronger. Unclenching her jaw, she held her hand forward. “Do you have a band?”
His bulging eyes indicated he was surprised by her request. Oliver tugged open his top drawer, rummaged through its contents, and pulled out a red rubber band.
She watched his expression as she ran her fingers through her shoulder-length bob, drawing it behind her head. To his credit, he didn’t once glance at her cheek.
It felt weird to have her hair up again. Almost every day of the first twenty-four years of her life, Holly had worn her hair in a ponytail. But all that changed when she woke up with the burn scar that spread from her ear to her nose. After months of humiliation, she’d had a hairdresser style her hair in a way that ensured it fell forward, giving her cheek as much coverage as possible.
Oliver clapped his hands together, making her jump again. “Okay, shall we get started?” He stood and waited for her to do the same.
“Do you want my credit card?”
He flicked his hand. “We’ll worry about that later. Come on, let me show you the shoes.”
Twenty minutes later, she’d succeeded in not removing her socks. She had also committed another hundred and twenty dollars to this crazy venture. But it wasn’t crazy. And it wasn’t just a venture. It was a mission, and she intended to succeed.
With her new shoes on, Oliver led her to the section of the wall at the back of the building.
“Okay, Amber, this is our beginner wall. It’s just ten feet high and, as you can see, we have extra padding at the bottom.” He bounced up and down on the mat for emphasis. She looked up the wall and tried to follow the path of the colorful lumps up to the top. There didn’t seem to be any kind of pattern.
“These are called holds. Come and have a look at this one, see how your fingers can fit snuggly into here.”
She leaned forward to inspect the lump. Sure enough, there was a gap between the fake rock and the wall.
“Go ahead stick your fingers in.”
Doing as instructed, she noted how rough the inside of the rock was against her fingertips.
“See how each hold is different? Some are held like this, some like this.” Oliver demonstrated how to grip the different colored knobs and then turned to her with a curious gaze that seemed to see right into her mind. “As you climb, you’ll learn to use different parts of your feet too.”
Again she glanced up the wall. Her stomach did a little flip at the idea of hanging off one of those knobs.
“This’s your harness. It’s your safety device, and it’s designed like a chair to help you should you fall.” Oliver explained all the aspects of the apparatus. “So step in and I’ll show you how it works.”
He held the harness open and she had no choice but to hold on to his shoulders and place one leg after the other into the leg loops. Up until this point, Milton was the only man she’d allowed to enter her personal space—except, of course, for the dozens of doctors that’d poked and prodded her body with a clinical approach. The warmth of Oliver’s body, so close to hers, sent a flush of heat blazing up her chest and neck.
Yet Oliver was completely at ease as he adjusted the harness on her hips, seemingly unaware of the heatwave bathing between them. “It sits above your hips on your natural waist. See. The harness works both ways, so if you ever flip upside down, it’ll catch on your hips.”
She gasped. “I can flip upside down?”
“If you want to.”
“No. No, I don’t want to.”
“Okay. Noted.” He grinned. “No flipping upside down for Amber.”
She frowned at his joke and wondered if she was placing her life in the wrong hands.
“I promise you won’t flip upside down.” The tenderness in his eyes caught her off guard and she tore her gaze away.
He went on to explain other safety features and spent a significant amount of time explaining and demonstrating the climbers knot.
“Once you show the correct way to tie the knot, you can take your first climb.”
“Oh.” She tugged her bottom lip into her mouth. He’d demonstrated the knot twice, and although she’d watched, it was technical. Seeds of doubt crept into her brain. A mental debate rolled through her head as she measured out an arm’s length of the smooth rope. What the hell am I doing? Then, I can do this. The for-and-against deliberation sucked so much mental ability that she struggled to concentrate.
Oliver may’ve sensed her ineptitude, because he reached for the rope and showed her where to thread it through. Her breath caught when his fingers skimmed hers. Milton was the only man who’d ever touched her tenderly. Until now. While her heart skipped a few beats at his close proximity, Oliver seemed completely oblivious. She watched his hands, torn between concentrating on what he was doing and appreciating how manly his fingers were.
He pulled the rope tight, signifying the knot was ready, and stepped back, grinning. “Got it.”
She nodded and cleared her throat. “I think so.”
“Good.” He unraveled the knot and handed the rope to her. “Your turn.”
As she measured out a sufficient length of rope, the weight of succeeding was like a ton of sand, and she felt every single grain. The test became of life-and-death importance. Given that it was designed to keep her from falling off the wall, maybe it was.
Holly took her time, following the rope around itself to create a double figure eight, and to her surprise it looked right. She tugged on it, securing it tight, then looked up at him.
“Well done. You’re ready…but unfortunately time’s up.”
“What?”
“It’s past eight o’clock. Lesson’s over.”
She clenched her jaw. “I’m paying you to teach me to climb.”
He crossed his arms. “I am teaching you to climb. Some things took a bit longer than they were meant to.” She had no doubt he was referring to how long she took to tie the climbers knot. “Besides, you haven’t actually paid me a cent yet.”
“Is that what you’re worried about? Payment?”
His eyebrows bounced. “It wasn’t. But should I be?”
“No. Don’t worry, Mr. Nelson. You’ll get your money’s worth.”
His chest rose and fell with a deep breath, then his shoulders softened. “Look, Amber. I’m sorry, but it really is past eight o’clock, and I’m hungry. I haven’t eaten since eleven this morning. We made some real progress today. Next session, we’ll have you on the wall within five minutes, I promise.”
Unclenching her jaw, she nodded. “Okay, that sounds good.”
“Come on, let’s get you out of this harness.”
He stepped forward and leaned over so close that she placed her hands on his shoulders. As he demonstrated how to release the harness, his breath floated across her neck and her heart thumped out a reckless beat. When the apparatus fell to her feet, she let go of his shoulders, stepped back, and stared up at him, blinking. Holly tried to ignore the butterflies that danced in her stomach when he smiled at her. His tenderness somehow made him seem strong, and she was stunned by how comfortable she felt in his company.
“See? Easy.” He looped the rope around his shoulder and elbow and step
ped away to hang it on the wall. “Don’t worry, I’ll show you again on Monday.”
She cleared her throat. “May I take some rope home please?”
He turned to her, frowning.
“I’d like to practice.”
“Oh, okay, as long as it’s not to hang yourself.”
Her eyes bulged.
“It was a joke, Amber. Unless…” His eyes drilled into her. “That’s something I should worry about.”
She bit her tongue, because if he’d asked her that anytime in the last three years he probably wouldn’t have liked her answer. Not now, though. Now everything had changed.
Chapter 9
Even though Regi knew it was pointless, he still struggled against the ropes that kept his wrists restrained behind his back. He’d been in this situation before. Twice. The first time, though, it’d just been a warning. Yet they’d still scared the crap out of him. They’d kept him tied up in a dark shed so long he’d shit his pants. He’d often wondered if that embarrassing moment was why they’d released him without a single bruise.
The second time, after slapping him around a bit, they snapped his pinky finger. He’d never forget the pain, nothing like he’d ever felt before. It never did heal properly, and when his hands were really cold his finger throbbed like a bitch.
This was the third time they’d brought him back to the same empty factory. At least, he assumed it was the same building, given the rotten fish smell. Each time they let him go, they blindfolded him and tossed him out of a moving van like a dead body.
Regi didn’t fear for his life. If Carson wanted to kill him he would’ve done it already. Carson wanted money. Money that Regi didn’t have and would never have.
He accepted that he had to pay off his debt. It’d been over three years since he’d crashed into Carson’s Stingray, and he’d been at the man’s mercy ever since. Problem was there was no formal arrangement that detailed how the debt was being reduced.
His duties had been as easy as they’d been varied, and on the odd occasion he’d actually considered himself lucky to have crumpled Carson’s car. He’d been Carson’s chauffer dozens of times. Most often in the middle of the night, when Carson and a scantily clad young woman needed a lift to or from an exclusive engagement. Sometimes the command had been during the day, and Regi had to sneak out of work to perform his duty. One journey had been just three streets in total, and Regi had to crawl out of bed at three in the morning to complete that one. Another had taken hours, and he was pretty sure Carson had received a hand job along the way.
Regi had also played waiter at least a dozen times at Carson’s exclusive mansion in Broadmoor, a gated community overlooking Union Bay. Those were the times Regi had felt blessed to have met the man. While he cruised the crowd with trays of drinks and miniature treats, he’d had the pleasure of being extremely close to some of the most beautiful women in the world. Most of them exposed ample cleavage and didn’t seem to mind one bit if Regi’s eyes wandered.
Problem was, Regi had no idea how much of the debt he’d repaid. He’d started tabling the unpaid work about fourteen months after the crash. Not that it helped. He wouldn’t dare voice his tallied total to Carson anyway.
A loud crack and a bolt of light across the concrete floor signaled the opening of a door. He squinted against the glare and noted two men silhouetted against the light.
“Well, if it isn’t my old friend Regi the Rat.”
Regi recognized the voice: Pope. The man had made Regi his personal punching bag after Regi had triggered his fall in that alley all those years ago. If Regi could turn back one moment in his life, it’d be a strong debate between crashing into Carson’s car and dodging Pope’s tackle that time.
The blow to his jaw came out of the darkness, giving Regi no time to avoid it. His neck snapped with the force and he tasted blood. Carson never did his dirty work. If he did, Regi was certain the blows wouldn’t be anywhere near as powerful as Pope’s.
He had no idea why they called him Pope. The man was far from a saint.
The second blow burrowed deep into Regi’s gut, slamming his breath out of him. He howled at the pain, yet tried to keep focus. If he could see where the punches were coming from he could prepare. Boxing had taught him how to deflect and how to clench his muscles to diminish the blow. Trouble was, in the dark like this, he had a millisecond to counter the attack. It wasn’t long enough, and his body suffered.
“What d’ya want?” Regi spat the words out and they bounced around the empty space.
“Carson wants his money.” Pope followed up his demand with a kick to Regi’s thigh. The chair toppled and Regi’s head slammed onto solid concrete. Stars danced across his eyes, bringing a glittering display to the blackness around him.
He groaned at the pain belting his temple. His hip took the brunt of the fall.
Regi was airborne for a heartbeat as he and the chair were dragged upright again. He shook his head, trying to ward off the fog that threatened to consume him. “I don’t have any money.”
“Not the right answer.” A fist shot through the ray of light and Regi clenched his stomach before the blow connected. It still hurt like hell, but this time it was muscle rather than kidneys.
“I am paying him back.” Even to his own ears, his voice sounded shrill, desperate.
“Oh, really? That’s interesting, I haven’t seen a single dollar from you.”
The slap across his face stung like a thousand wasps, and in that instant Regi knew he was never going to be free. He spat a wad of bloody spit and the red globule lit up briefly in the bolt of light. Tears stung his eyes, and he was torn between fighting them back and sobbing like a baby. “Just go ahead and kill me.”
“What’d you say?” Pope leaned in close and his rancid breath nearly choked Regi.
Regi was a heartbeat away from head-butting the asshole when Pope pulled back, maybe sensing Regi’s thoughts. “Kill me,” Regi said. “Just get this shit over with.”
“No can do, Regi the Rat.”
Regi would never forgive his mother for naming him Reginald Aaron Tate. His initials created an acronym that’d followed him around like a bad smell for as long as he could remember.
Footsteps indicated that a second man had moved behind Regi, and he braced for a blow from behind. Seconds passed. A minute. But nothing happened.
“Mr. Carson has a proposal for you.” Pope’s voice boomed off the concrete.
Regi swallowed the blood in his mouth. “What?”
“How’d ya like to be debt free?”
Chapter 10
When Holly returned home after her first session with Oliver, she used that high to push onto the next step in her crazy plan: learning to ski again. She’d booked the nearest ski resort and planned to drive up on Friday night.
But her strategy to drive to the resort after work had been obliterated by too many lost hours staring at her computer. Her overactive imagination had her riding from one stressful thought about the upcoming weekend to another, and she’d tried to talk herself through the unease by reflecting on how well yesterday’s session with Oliver had gone.
It didn’t work, though, and she had to ward off a throbbing headache with two Advils.
Unable to put it off a moment longer, and for the first time ever, she shut down her work computer four hours early. Not that it mattered; the unfinished reports were for doctors who didn’t apply strict deadlines. They knew she’d get it done as quickly as possible, and that seemed to be sufficient for them. She was the one who put pressure on her work performance. It was another one of those distractions that kept her sane.
Before she changed her mind, she strode to her bedroom, shoved the last bits and pieces into her suitcase, locked up her apartment, lugged the suitcase down to her car, and, with the music blaring from her car’s ancient radio, she headed north on the road that divide
d the town in two.
Since moving to Brambleton, Holly had barely ventured outside her home, let alone beyond the city outskirts. Online shopping had become her norm. In fact, other than going to Upper Limits, the only time she’d had to leave her apartment in the last three months was to collect her mail or post a letter. It was amazing how easy being a recluse was.
She was surprised at how quickly the mountains came into view. Her first peek at the snow in the distance had her heart thumping in her neck and shivers prickling her spine.
According to her research, Altitude Mountain Resort was just a ninety-minute drive from her apartment, but each mile she crossed had her questioning what the hell she was doing. At every turn in the road, the instinct to turn back was like forked lightning in her brain. The forks shot off in two opposing directions: one saying she should be at home hiding and the other saying, damn it, she had to do this.
She never thought she’d return to snow again.
A vision permanently etched into her memory zipped across her brain. She was on her back, looking up at sheer ice peppered with charred helicopter debris. A jagged gash of blue sky ran through the middle of the icy walls, and plumes of her ragged breath punched out of her, clouding her vision. It was the very moment she’d realized she was all alone, deep in an ice crevasse. It was the moment she’d accepted that she was going to die.
But she didn’t die.
Somehow, she’d survived the nightmare.
Her mind flashed to the frozen lovers. Maybe they were the reason. And Dorothy, the elderly woman, desperate to prove her son’s innocence.
Was this her destiny? She chuckled at that stupid concept.
But whatever it was…she’d started this quest now. And as ridiculous as it sounded, it was something she had to do. Holly clenched the steering wheel harder, cranked up the music, and helped Robbie Williams realize how much life he had running through his veins.
The song couldn’t have been timelier. Holly had been trapped in her home for so long, she’d forgotten what it was like to breathe fresh air. She wound down her window and allowed the wind to whip her hair back. But a minute later, the cold breeze nearly had her ear snapping off and she reversed that decision.
Out of Mind Page 6
