“Josie?” Westman asked above her. “I’m letting go. Brace yourself.”
He released one hand, and she clutched at a rock outcropping before he released the next. With tiny steps, she pushed herself to the far end of the ledge, giving Westman as much room as possible. She dared not look up, but she could hear him above her, see tiny showers of dust and rock cascade past her and into the abyss below.
And even over the roar of the surf and the howl of the wind, she could hear the men’s voices. They were at the top of the outcrop now, and they were searching for them. It wouldn’t be long until they looked over the edge. When they shot, would she be dead before she fell? Or would the bullet hit her, pushing her off the cliff, and into a slow falling arc that gave her three impossibly long seconds to contemplate her violent death?
“I’m here,” Westman said, and then she felt his large solid body beside her. The ledge was too small for both of them, and she teetered for a moment before regaining her hold.
“They’re here,” Josie said in the direction of Westman’s ear.
He looked up and nodded. “Then it’s time I test my theory. I’m betting five pounds there’s a space to hide beneath this ledge. You?”
She stared at him. “Am I supposed to bet against you?”
He winked at her. “No, you’re supposed to give me a kiss for luck.”
“Luck? If you go over that ledge and there’s nowhere to hide . . .”
“Just kiss me, Josie. I’ll come for you in a moment.”
She did as she was told, kissing him quickly but with feeling. After all, if they were going to die, she wanted one last good kiss.
And then Westman was gone. He knelt down, positioned his hands on the rock, and, holding on, dropped his body off the ledge.
One after the other, his hands released the rock, and he disappeared. She listened for the sound of his body thumping against the rock. She listened for the splash as he hit the water below.
“There she is!” a voice boomed from above. “Shoot her.”
Josie’s head snapped back, and she stared up. That was far worse than looking down. The sense of falling hit her harder than ever, and she grappled with the tiny handholds that were her lifelines.
Above her, the darkening sky surrounding them, were the two men from the inn yesterday. They’d followed. Either that or known where to go. In the dusky light, she saw one of them lift something that glinted silver and point it.
She hugged the rock tighter, squeezing her eyes shut, and then her feet were out from under her, and she was on her knees. The bullet hit six inches from where she now knelt, sending a spray of rock into her face. She fell on her belly, holding on to the ledge with both hands as she’d watched Westman do. The air flew out of her lungs at the strength of her impact on the rock that had been beneath her.
Her feet dangled in the void, nothing below but rock and water. Nothing waiting above but another bullet, which she knew might come any time. She slipped lower, her hands too weak to hold the rock for long. She slipped over the edge, held on for one moment, and then let herself fall.
Stephen caught her, almost falling himself, and pulled her back into the safety of the small alcove. It had not been directly under the ledge, as he’d hoped, but a bit to the left, which made it a stretch to reach. And it was tiny, so tiny that Stephen doubted it could be called an alcove. Dent was a better description.
But there was room for them both, barely, and only if they pressed tightly together. Josie was all but on top of him and clutching his neck so tightly he could hardly breathe.
“You’re all right,” he said in her ear, trying to be heard against the wind and the crash of the waves below. “I told you I wouldn’t let you fall.”
“You’re mad.” Her voice shook with fear and something else. Emotion? He pulled away and looked into her face.
“Are you crying?”
“No.” She wiped away a stray tear. “It’s the wind. It stings my eyes.” Her breath hitched. “I—I thought you’d fallen.”
“I was right here waiting for you.”
She was sobbing now, quite loudly, and he cupped the back of her head with one hand and shushed her.
“It’s fine now.”
“Fine? There are men shooting at us from above and there’s a hundred-foot drop below.”
“It’s closer to twenty feet.”
“It’s a long drop! What are we to do?”
