And truth be told, he’d rather not go at all. At least, not right now. It would be pretty shitty to have survived three tours in Afghanistan only to bite it in Las Vegas, of all places.
He kept going. One hand, a foot, the other hand, the other foot. Over and over. He didn’t look down.
Brandy was close now and Blane wondered how in the hell he was going to get her off this fucking wall without both of them falling. If she could hold on to him, that would help, but he had no idea what her strength level was or if she was even conscious.
Finally, he was close enough to speak to her.
“Brandy,” he said, keeping his voice as quiet as possible but hopefully loud enough that she could hear. She didn’t respond. He tried again, louder. “Brandy.”
This time she moved, her head turning slowly toward him and her eyes blinking open. Blane saw the instant fear took over and she opened her mouth to scream.
His palm covered her mouth just in time, muffling her. His other hand cramped painfully on the grip he had holding his weight.
“It’s Blane,” he said. “Don’t be scared. I’m here to help you. Don’t scream.”
Her eyes cleared as his words penetrated. After a moment, she gave a tiny nod.
Blane could feel her breath against his fingers. He’d been right. It was shallow and weak. She couldn’t take a deep breath the way they had her tied. He was amazed she was even conscious. And he was so going to kill the fuckers who’d done this.
“I’m going to untie your wrists first,” he explained. “Are you strong enough to keep your balance if I put your hands in position?”
“I-I think so,” she said, her voice a whisper of sound. “I’ll try.”
Blane nodded grimly. “Okay. Just tell me if you can’t.”
He scanned the wall, finding a hand hold near her right hand. He needed the switchblade in his pocket to cut the rope that held her and he braced himself, but she stayed put. The prospect of rescue had seemed to make her more alert. He hoped the adrenaline would give her the strength she needed.
“Okay, you’re doing good,” he said. “Now for the other hand.” He reached across her body for the rope just as he heard the report of a rifle and saw a chunk of rock gauged a foot from them.
Fuck. So much for doing this slow and careful.
He cut the rope for her wrist and braced his arm across her shoulders, holding her to the wall. Her feet were propped on two outcroppings, giving her some stability, but he didn’t want her toppling forward.
The sound came again, this time the bullet hitting closer. Blane instinctively moved, his body shielding Brandy’s.
They were playing with him, obviously, no doubt watching them fall was more entertaining than shooting such easy targets. But Blane doubted they’d let them escape up the wall. They’d keep shooting, maybe injuring them, just to make it interesting. The way a cruel kid tore the wings off flies or burned worms with a magnifying glass. His gut clenched as he tried to think what to do.
A second rifle sounded, different than the first, and was coming from above him. Craning his neck, Blane saw someone above them providing cover fire. He didn’t have time to look closer though, as a rope was suddenly tossed down.
Blane didn’t need to be told twice.
“Put your arms around my waist,” he said to Brandy, who did as she was told. “Hold on tight.”
Grasping the rope with one hand, he reached down with the other, slicing through the ropes holding her ankles. As he’d thought, she immediately lost her footing and fell forward. He had to drop the knife to catch her even as her arms tightened around him.
He couldn’t climb, not holding her. And there was no way Kade was going to be able to pull both of them up. But even as he thought it, he was moving. Steady gunfire sounded in his ears, but it came from above, thank God.
Blane held tight to Brandy, who definitely would have fallen if he hadn’t. There was no way she had the strength to have held him tight enough not to fall otherwise.
In a shorter time than he would have thought possible, they were up and over the ledge.
“Stay down,” Blane said when he saw Brandy instinctively scramble to get to her feet. If she got shot after all that, he was going to be pissed. The muscles in his arms and chest ached from the exertion and the rope had torn the shit out of his palm.
Worst trip to Las Vegas ever.
“Let’s move!”
The voice was that of Terrance, the guy Kade had paid to come. He and Tom had helped pull them up while Bill was still firing the AR-15.
Covering Brandy the best he could, they stayed down in a crouching run as they followed him back, away from the ledge. Blane knew Brandy couldn’t see where she was going, not in the dark, so he kept a tight hold on her. Not that he would’ve needed to. She had him in a death grip, her fingers clutching his arm so tight the nails dug through his shirt.