Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 102282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“Your phone?” Frowning, Renzo came back over. “It’s in power saver mode, right? Maybe—wait.” Renzo went still as cemetery at midnight, eyes going skyward. Sure enough, it wasn’t his phone, which he shoved in his pocket. The sky was no longer blue, instead a hazy sort of overcast. It made it look like twilight was approaching when it wasn’t even noon yet. “Canaan. Listen to me. No arguments, okay? We need to climb. Now.”
Chapter Twelve
“Climb,” Renzo repeated, scrambling up the craggy cliff face, aided by the abundance of rocky protrusions and the slant of the wall. If it was raining somewhere down the canyon, even miles away, they could be hit with a flash flood even before the first drops of rain arrived. “We need to make it to that ledge. Now.”
Above them, a wide, flat ledge beckoned, a point where the narrow slot canyon started to open. For Renzo, either by himself or with his SEAL team, the climb wasn’t particularly challenging. Longer than he’d like, but totally doable, even without climbing equipment. However, he needed Canaan on board. Like right this fucking moment.
“Canaan. Rain’s coming. Probably already raining ahead of us. Could flash flood any second. Climb,” Renzo begged him. “We’ve got to get out of the slot canyon. Up and over is our best bet since we can’t see the exit.”
“You sure?” Mercifully, Canaan started to climb after him. As he’d seen numerous times, Canaan was more agile and speedy than he looked, which right now, Renzo was counting on to keep him alive.
“Positive.” The first raindrops hit Renzo’s face, underscoring the urgency in his ascent. He scrambled from handhold to handhold, trying to moderate his climb to Canaan’s pace. “Come on. You can do this. We’ve just got to get to where it opens wider.”
“Not. Great. At. Pull-ups,” Canaan huffed, reminding Renzo of their talk on the way to Flagstaff.
“Well, I promised to help you, right?” Renzo called down, keeping his voice light. “Use your core—abs, back, ass, chest—use those muscles too, not just your arms. You’ve got this. A little more.”
“Trying.” Canaan made it another few feet up, one painstaking position change at a time. Above them, the sky darkened further, the storm moving in fast.
“Fuck.” Canaan had two decent footholds, but he was struggling with his daypack, which had slipped precipitously down one arm.
“Let it fall,” Renzo ordered.
“Dude. It’s got food and water and—”
“Worry about yourself first. Just get to the ledge. We’ll share my water,” Renzo promised.
“Fuck.” Canaan tried again to save the backpack.
“Canaan. Let it go. You’ll climb better without it.”
“Hate this.” Canaan sent his backpack tumbling to the canyon floor, which was surprisingly far below them now—the wall was higher than it looked, and Renzo got why Canaan was sounding more than a little freaked out. Hell, he was too, seeing half their supplies bounce down the narrow canyon. But the rain was already on the way, no time for sentiment or getting worked up.
“You can do it,” he coached instead, keeping his voice low and soothing. “Next handhold is to your right. Watch where I go from here on up. I’ll choose spots that should work for you.”
“Yo. Gigantor. Don’t know if you noticed, but you’re about double me.” Canaan had to really struggle to make the handhold Renzo suggested.
If he wasn’t so intent on getting them to that ledge, Renzo would laugh. Instead he resolved to choose holds closer together, try and remember that he had maybe as much as six inches on Canaan, which was nothing when they were lying together, kissing, but here on the cliff face every millimeter mattered.
“Okay. Next spot. Come on, man. We need to hurry.” On his own, he could have made it up there four times over, but hell if he was leaving Canaan. The possibility of rain happening upstream seemed ever stronger with the darkening sky and wind picking up.
“Trying.” Canaan made the next several holds until only a few remained between them and the ledge.
“You’ve got this.” Renzo tried to slow the hammering of his heart. Every time Canaan wavered, bile rose in his throat.
“Fuck. Arms burning.” Canaan panted.
“Two. Two more spots,” Renzo bartered with him, choosing good, sturdy holds that Canaan wouldn’t have to scramble to find purchase on. Then he was even with the ledge, pulling himself over. Immediately, he tossed his pack to the side and rolled to his stomach to coax Canaan the rest of the way. “Just another few inches and then you can grab my hand, I’ll pull you up.”
“Fuck.” Canaan was really struggling now, sweat rolling down his face. “Don’t try that. I’ll pull you over.”
“Which of us is the SEAL?” Renzo countered. “You can do this, Canaan. I know you can.” He put every ounce of conviction he did not feel into his voice. He stretched his arms as far as they would go. “Next move should bring you to me.”