My heart pounded as Mitch's green eyes met mine. Something passed between us. A promise. A reassurance. A desperate plea.
You'll be okay. I'll be right behind you. I'm gonna kill him.
I had no idea which message he was sending, yet I wanted to believe all three.
As I approached the cliff edge and looked up at the slick, muddy rock wall, another thought dominated everything else. We're going to die.
"Go!" Doug yelled.
"Okay … bastard." I reached out of the cave, placing my foot on a rock that protruded from the stone like an open drawer. Okay. I can do this. I have to do this.
I found handholds easily enough. Cracks in the rock, exposed roots, rough stones that seemed stable, and the first few feet weren't so bad.
"Get back!" Doug's voice boomed below me.
"What?" Gripping a wet rock, I twisted to look down.
Doug's back was visible at the cave entrance, but I couldn't see Mitch. "Get back, asshole," he yelled.
"Doug!" I cried. "What are you doing?"
"It's okay, Charlie." Mitch's commanding voice reached me. "Just stay calm and focus."
"Don't do anything until I tell you," Doug ordered, then he stepped out of the cave onto the rock I'd used. His cold eyes met mine, and I couldn't believe I had once trusted him. "Keep going." He aimed the rifle at me.
My stomach plummeted.
How could I have been such an idiot? Again. First Marcus, stealing my research and publishing it under his own name while I'd been stupid enough to think we’d had something special between us. At least Doug hadn't gotten me into bed before he’d screwed me over. Two bosses. Two men I'd trusted. Two men who'd seen me as nothing more than a convenient steppingstone. Apparently, I had "use me" tattooed across my forehead in invisible ink that only assholes could read.
Doug grunted and swore with every move. His movements were clumsy compared to mine, probably because the bastard clutched the damn rifle and kept it aimed at me.
"Keep climbing, Charlie!" he barked.
"I am!" I yelled, reaching for another rock.
After what felt like an eternity, Doug called down, "Mitch. Your turn. And remember, anything goes wrong, and she's dead."
"Charlie?" Mitch's voice rang out below. "You okay?"
"Yes!" I called back, sneaking a glance over my shoulder.
Mitch climbed like a machine. Fast, efficient, deliberate. His gaze stayed fixed on me, watching, as if he was anticipating every move I made and was ready to catch me if I slipped.
A question whipped through my mind. Why hadn't Doug shot Mitch when he’d had the chance?
Maybe he was out of bullets?
Or maybe Doug couldn't kill a man in cold blood, face to face?
Or did he need Mitch?
All three were possible.
But as I hauled myself up another few feet, muscles screaming, I figured it out. We were in the middle of Mitch’s million-hectare property, miles from anywhere. He needed Mitch's knowledge of the land to get us out of here.
Oh shit! He didn't need me.
"That's it, Charlie. You're doing great," Mitch called up.