by Zoe Forward
She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Let’s make it to the meeting and then look at my feet.”
He resumed their slow forward march. He chopped his machete through brush, taking his frustration out on anything standing in his way. His mind phased out for endless minutes, maybe even hours, while focusing solely on slashing a path.
The next machete slash met no resistance. He looked down to realize he perched on the edge of a high gulley. Jen plowed into his back. He grabbed her arm when she started to move around him and yanked her against him. She smacked into his injured side. He winced and cursed.
“Sorry,” she muttered.
They both stared at the long decrepit rope bridge spanning a hundred feet or so between two rocks, barely hanging on over a chasm that dropped at least a quarter mile. The rickety rope structure lacked planks for more than half of it. They’d have to shuffle like tightrope walkers while gripping a rope rail for many yards.
“What the hell is that? They cannot expect us to…” She fisted her hands on her hips.
He suppressed a smile at the how-dare-they look on her face. “Afraid so. What I remember is the second meeting is just beyond this shitty bridge.”
“Well, screw that. I’ve had enough bullshit from this show.”
A huge laugh shot out of him.
“What?” She folded her arms across her chest, lips pursed.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you cuss.”
“I reserve it for messed-up moments like right now.” She pointed at the bridge again. “That is insanity. Regardless of your certainty we make it to the meeting, if we try to cross that we will fall. And probably die.”
He nodded as he stared at the rickety structure. “It looks like a bad bet. I could say something like you were the one who wanted us to do this show, but I won’t.”
“You just did. Don’t be a jerk. I vote we don’t make the stupid meeting and stay right here.”
He bit back a grin as he examined the bridge. “Getting across might be doable. It doesn’t look that bad.”
She punched him in the arm. “Stop laughing at me. Not bad? Over half the planks are missing. That rope looks like it was woven in pre-Columbian times. What’s our plan? We risk our lives again to cross only to be forced into some new ridiculously dangerous scenario? You know what, I’m done with this. Done. D-O-N-E.” She sat on a nearby rock. “I’m not moving from right here. Screw the meeting. And fuck the show.”
“I thought you wanted to win.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore. I just want a vacation. A big sunken tub. An ocean, a piña colada, and a table full of food. Any kind of food, except I don’t like mushrooms or tofu.”
The vision of her naked in a tub worked for him. “You and me in the tropics after this, then. Clothes optional.”
“I could really use a gigantic hot fudge sundae with extra chocolate right now. Triple chocolate.”
He grinned, on board with chocolate sauce and her naked.
Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t you dare say it.”
“Do I get to sprinkle chocolate on you and lick it off?”
“You couldn’t resist. Pervert,” she mumbled. Her lips twitched upward.
“There’s no other way to do chocolate sauce except off your ass.”
“Stop it.”
“It’s an amazing ass.”
“Really. Stop.” She plucked at her sticky hair, attempting to get a few fingers through it without success. “I’m probably going to have to shave my head to get these tangles out. I don’t want dreadlocks.” Sniffling, she swiped away a few tears. Her upper lip trembled, which squeezed his chest.
He knelt in front of her. “You’re beautiful.”
She managed a weak, grateful smile.
“You’ll look great without hair.” A suppressed laugh escaped his lips.
“I hate you.” She batted at him, missing.
“No you don’t. We’ll get the tangles out.”
“I just want a comb.”
“And a hot fudge sundae.”
“That too. The you-licking-it-off part sounds pretty good if it comes with ice cream on your chest.”
He shifted in his suddenly too-tight pants. “You’re killing me, Angel.”
Her impish grin made him groan.
His gaze shifted to Shannon. “I wonder how long we have until the meeting starts. Based on the map, it’s just up the rise past this bridge.”
Shannon rolled her watch and held up one finger.
An hour?
Jen said, “It’ll take me two hours just to drum up enough courage to put a single toe on the bridge.”
He grabbed her hand, helped her stand, and dragged her to the bridge’s entrance. He fell to his knees and pulled her down next to him. “It’s time for us to pray.”
“What?”
“I’m feeling the need to commune with God right now.” He leaned in and whispered, “Do your thing.”
She whispered back. “I’m too upset. I’ll make a mess of a spell.” The terror in her gaze did odd things to his stomach.
She asked, “Do we make it past this?”
“Yes.”
“Fine.” She rolled her eyes heavenward. Then placed one hand on the bridge and clasped his hand with her other. She whispered:
“Oh, Goddess, I call upon you, in need of your help in this hour,
Bless this bridge with your power.
Protect us from this piece of shit for we want to quit,
But trust you to see us through
The spell is done, so mote and blessed be true.”
As she glanced up he smiled, but couldn’t hold back the laugh. “That’s the best you could do?”
“You’re asking me for a prayer under pressure. I suck at that.” Her gaze darted to Shannon, who’d lowered her camera and also beamed a big smile. “If we start to fall, I’ll save us.”
Shannon nodded.
What did she mean by that? Maybe she’d attempt another dimension-hop. He’d like to avoid a repeat of the nauseating experience.
“Don’t worry, Angel. I’ll get you across.” He placed an experimental foot on the first rotten plank. It creaked but held his weight. With a nod, he beckoned her to follow. “Follow my path.”
Several careful steps. The bridge’s planks held. He glanced back. She bit her lip and inched forward. Rain splattered on them from above.
Don’t look down. Several minutes later and less than a quarter of the way across, he glanced down. Rocky rapids rushed far below. So far below. Shallow water, rocks, and guaranteed death awaited them down there. This had been his worst decision of the past two days. The bone-chilling crack of wood beneath his feet jolted him.
Oh, shit.
He was going down. This is what he got for not paying attention.
The board split. He slipped, rotated, and caught his hand on the rope railing.
“No!” she screamed.
His hand slowly slipped, unable to keep purchase on the slick rope.
“Don’t,” he ordered, reading her intent to jump toward him.
She dived, landing stomach-first on one of the few planked areas, catching his hand with both of hers. She slid an inch his way, struggling against the pressure of his weight.
“We’re slipping,” she gritted out, eyes shut in concentration. “I can shift us.”
“Not on camera.”
“You promised to get me across. So get on the frigging bridge.” Her gaze fully communicated intent to go over with him if he fell. Then she’d have to try to shift them before they hit the bottom.
He grabbed the railing rope with both hands and pulled up. Tearing rent his lacerated side. Pain rocked his brain until he saw double, and then triple. He ignored the jolting vision changes, concentrating on not letting go.
You will get Jen across. You will not risk exposing her abilities by forcing her to dimension-hop on television. This bridge guaranteed to be one of the most filmed areas of the trek to the meeting site.
It really fucking hurt.
His damaged side throbbed with any movement. Wetness far beyond that of the drizzling rain warmed his side. Bleeding would weaken him. Not good. At least his shirt was dark, which should hide the blood from Jen.
He gazed at the bridge’s exit many yards away. Must survive to there. He couldn’t die until he got her to solid land.
“You okay?” Jen asked.
Hell, no. He grunted and managed to sit upright. “Let’s get off this thing.”
He shuffled slowly with a solitary focus on the exit. When they hit solid land a long while later, he pulled her to him. They collapsed onto the ground. He wasn’t dead. And he wasn’t dizzy, which meant the bleeding was contained and over.
“You doing all right, Angel?” he asked.
“My leg hurts a bit.”
“You did good.” He pulled her tight against him, comforted by the warmth of her petite body. He touched his lips to hers. “Couldn’t resist,” he whispered.
She sank her fingers into his hair and pulled him back to her mouth for a long kiss. He returned it hungrily, tangling his tongue with hers. Energy revved through his body. The warmth was seductive. Or maybe it was just kissing her ranked as hands down a-maz-ing. And all his pain disappeared.
He pulled back. Too many almosts with her in the past few hours combined with weakness from bleeding obliterated his desire to keep this PG for the show if he continued.
“No, don’t stop,” she moaned.
His Eastern European accent slipped into his whisper, “Angel, we keep this up and we’re going to be naked on camera. Shannon might not be on this side yet, but I guarantee there’s some hidden cameras somewhere.”
“Who cares? I need you.” She ran her hands down his body toward his pants.
“Shit, Jen.” He caught her roaming hands. “Next time, when we’re alone and not bruised to hell, I’m going to rip your clothes off.”
“That sounds good. Let’s quit the game,” she murmured as her lips caught his again.
He growled and pulled away. “Stop.” He rolled her off him and tucked her tight to his non-injured side. “It’ll be the best sex of your life. I promise. It’s just not happening on camera.”
She released a grumpy groan and cracked open her eyes. “World is spinning.”
“I have that effect on women,” he said with a smile.
She playfully slapped his shoulder and covered her eyes with a hand. “My leg really hurts.” Poking at her leg, she screeched. “Oh my God.”
“What?” He sat up and stared where she pointed. A shard of wood qualifying as a splinter on steroids was lodged in her calf. “I’m going to take it out.”
“No. You’re not.” She rotated her calf. “This needs a doctor. I need a tetanus shot.”
He pulled her face to meet his while sneaking his opposite hand close to the wood fragment. “You didn’t feel it until you saw it.” He yanked.
She screamed and fainted.
“Jen?” He shook her but she didn’t respond. Out cold.
He rotated her bleeding leg and dabbed at the quarter-inch hole the wood had left. Not a life-threatening wound. He unbuttoned his shirt and cut strips of fabric from the bottom of it and wrapped her calf. He removed each one of her busted-to-hell swim shoes.
Motherfucker.
Trench foot. Her feet were still red, not blue, which was a small consolation, indicating she wasn’t in the late phase of the condition. But her feet were swollen. Red lines of blistering covered all pressure points. He couldn’t do anything for the damage. He couldn’t dry them since it was drizzling all over them and everything on him was wet.
This woman was amazing. Most would’ve given up miles ago and refused to walk with this pain. That wasn’t even accounting for tightrope walking on that bridge for the past half hour.
He removed her bloodied semitransparent shirt to cut it into strips. Then he wrapped fabric around her feet. At least this provided more padding. He’d get her to her healer. Trench foot had to be a good enough reason to get her off the show. But would it be good enough for Anaïs?
He stood and swung her up over his naked shoulder. Pain ripped through his left side.
The image of her feet had him moving toward the druid healer.
Chapter Seventeen
In a daze, Jen followed behind Nikolai into a clearing set up with tiki lights. Still wobbly from passing out, she wanted to walk, well, limp, into this ridiculousness on her own. He hadn’t given her a straight answer on how far he’d carried her when asked. His pale coloring bothered her. He’d evaded her questions about his injury, which probably meant he was more significantly injured than she’d originally thought. She’d thanked him for bandaging her feet. The padding helped a bit.
The fakeness of this set in the middle of the jungle infuriated and confused her. A helicopter sat just off set in an area that looked to have been recently cleared of foliage and trees. She hated the lack of care for the rain forest. She wondered if there’d be environmentalists picketing the show once the episode aired.
At least twenty to thirty people buzzed around the area. A huge table of snacks and bottled waters sat just out of camera range under a tent designated as Crew Only. She’d give her left arm for one bottled water.
A man in charge shouted something. She needed to get to him and announce they quit. Neither of them could keep going, and after the attack in the forest, the danger was too high. Before she could get to the guy, they were swarmed. She batted at a woman who tried to mess with her hair. A different woman clipped a microphone to her shirt. Three people buzzed around Nikolai. After less than a minute the people disappeared. Someone yelled, “On camera.”
Owen appeared with a wide smile. “Welcome.” The coldness in his gaze indicated the opposite. “So surprised to see you. But…glad you’re here.”
Surprised? Had he wanted them to drop out? Maybe even die? How could she have ever thought this jerk her destined? Sure, he was handsome, but something slippery lurked beneath his polished veneer.
Owen halted within a few feet of them, staring transfixed at Nikolai.
Her breath caught when she glimpsed Nikolai’s glare. It communicated the promise of extreme pain, possibly death.
She pulled Nikolai’s head to her mouth to whisper, “I want to quit.”
A slow smile spread on his lips. Out loud he said, “I want you too, Angel.” He pushed her backward until the arches of the entryway cushioned her back. He attacked her mouth in a consuming possession. All she could process was the power of him, the feel of him. Desire raced through her, raw and strong—so strong it punched her in the gut.
He pulled away. To the group surrounding them he said, “This goddamned game is getting in the way of our life.”
As her mind slowly returned to reality, her cheeks burned. The power and command he had of her body, and his ability to make her forget everything around them, scared her.
His gaze swiveled to a shocked Owen. “How much more of this bullshit do we have to put up with before it’s over?”
Owen visibly swallowed. “Why don’t you two have a seat?”
“She needs her feet looked at. They’re verging on life-threatening gangrene,” Nikolai said.
“I’m doing okay,” she lied.
He shot her a skeptical glare.
“Fine.” Owen waved to people off camera.
Within seconds they were swarmed again.
Eli appeared and ordered, “Come. Let’s sit a bit off set and let me take a look.” He waved to a small tented area several yards away.
She didn’t budge, gauging if she could actually walk that far. Nikolai picked her up and carried her into the makeshift medical area, which encompassed two chairs and
a few bags of random medical gear.
As Eli unwrapped her feet he asked, “What are you feeling right now on your feet?” Louder he said, “No cameras for a minute, please.” The camera people backed off.
“They hurt a few hours ago. I don’t feel much anymore.”
His eyes widened when he peeked under the bandages. He placed a hand around each foot. Buzzing and warmth electrified her toes. Super healing. All pain had dulled to a slight throb. She whooshed out a relieved sigh and shot him a thankful smile.
He rotated her feet for a few seconds. “You’ve got some blisters, but I think you’re still good to go.”
“Thanks. I told Nick it wasn’t that bad. I think if I keep the strips of shirt around my feet and the crappy swim shoes then I’ll be okay a while longer.”
Nikolai sat in the chair next to her, pulled something from his cargo pants, and hunched over.
“What’s that?” She leaned in for a better view. He shuffled through snapshots of Serenity and Alexi in the jungle. The photos displayed private moments of the two. Who’d been spying on them?
“Someone slipped these into my pocket during the chaos minutes ago.” Nikolai paused at a note on the bottom of the stack: Stay in the game or they’re dead.
“Someone’s threatening you and them?” she whispered. “Oh God. This is who was after us before, isn’t it?”
He shoved the photos back into his pants pocket and glanced around. He met her gaze, his eyes filled with worry. She tangled her fingers with his. His hand tightened around hers and he drew her hand to his mouth for a kiss. “We have to finish this. This isn’t just about us anymore.”
“Okay. But we do it together. No more secrets.”
He nodded.
“Let Eli fix your side. Please, Nick…”
There was a call from the main set. People rushed all around them.
Eli said, “No time now, but after the main filming we might get another moment together.” His gaze darted to Nikolai’s pocket. “Anything I can do about that?”
“Burn these when you get the chance.” He pressed the pictures and note into Eli’s hand covertly. “I guess we’d better grab a seat and continue the bullshit.”
