Chapter 113: Before the Jump

Why had Sloane Sinclair panicked so badly the second she heard the helicopter?

Because this place was, for all practical purposes, still Sinclair ground.

She had no problem letting people use it for skydiving. The ones who came out here were adults with money, appetites for danger, and more than enough confidence in their own luck. If something went wrong, they were supposed to bear it themselves. That was the understanding.

Giselle Frost was different.

If some random rich thrill-seeker broke an ankle on Sinclair land, it would be annoying. If Giselle got hurt here, Victoria Frost would not care what waivers had been signed, what rules had been explained, or whose idea the jump had been. Her anger would still come down somewhere, and Sloane had no interest in standing underneath it.

That was why she had not originally planned to drive this close to the site.

She wanted no part of the actual drop zone, no part of the chaos, and certainly no part of anything dangerous enough to end in blood, headlines, or a phone call from the Frost family.

But once Giselle’s safety became part of the equation, Sloane drove right up anyway.

The car rolled to a stop near the cluster of tents and vehicles, and she dropped the window at once.

"Where’s Giselle?"

One of the women nearby glanced over, recognized her, and tipped her chin toward the far side of the gathering. "Over there."

Sloane followed the line of sight.

In the washed-out dark, among bodies, gear bags, and uneven light, one strip of silver still stood out. It caught what little brightness there was and held it. Even from a distance, even in that half-lit mess, there was no mistaking Giselle.

Sloane stared for a second, then let out a breath she had been holding since the car started bouncing over the dirt.

Of course.

A helicopter starting up did not necessarily mean someone was about to jump. It could just as easily mean a flight had ended and the aircraft was about to power down. Even if people were still jumping tonight, that did not automatically mean Giselle was the one in the next batch.

Once that clicked into place, the tension drained out of her shoulders so fast it almost annoyed her.

She shut off the engine, reached into her pocket for a pack of cigarettes, shook one free, and put it between her lips. The lighter flared in the dark. She drew hard, then leaned back and exhaled through the open window.

The smoke rolled out in a pale ribbon.

That had really scared the hell out of her.

Beside her, Elias had not seen the gesture that pointed Giselle out, so all he caught was Sloane calming down for no obvious reason.

"Where’s Giselle?" he asked.

Sloane narrowed her eyes against the smoke and, now that she knew Giselle was still alive and standing, let her old arrogance settle back where it belonged.

"No idea," she said. "Go find her yourself."

The easy contempt in her tone returned with no effort at all.

After what she had just seen from him in the car, she already knew that even if she said nothing else, he would still go after Giselle and try to drag her out of here. That saved Sloane a lot of trouble. If he was going to do the hard part anyway, why should she waste energy sweet-talking him?

Elias looked at her, and his eyes went cold.

He had expected the switch.

Girls like this always switched fast once the pressure was off. Giselle had done it enough times that he barely even noticed it anymore.

Still, the thought crossed his mind that if Giselle were not so important, if she were not still tied to his future, he really would have let Sloane sit here and sweat for the rest of the night.

Served her right.

He pushed the door open without another word.

"All right, I’m done messing with you."

Sloane’s voice stopped him before both feet touched the ground. "See that group over there? Giselle’s with them."

Her tone had changed. The edge was still there, but now it was carrying something real.

She looked at him directly. "If I go, it won’t matter. She won’t listen to me. So whether she leaves or not depends on you."

Elias pressed his lips together, then gave a small nod. "Got it."

He stepped out, shut the door, and started walking in the direction Sloane had indicated.

The closer he got, the clearer that streak of silver became. First it was just color in the dark. Then it sharpened into a body, a suit, silver hair catching dim work lights, and the cold stillness that always seemed to gather around Giselle no matter where she stood.

Once Elias was certain it was her, he lengthened his stride and broke into a light run.

He did not make it far.

A hand shot out from the side and caught him by the collar, pinching the fabric at the back of his neck the way someone would grab a kitten that had wandered too far.

"Whose kid are you?" a woman asked lazily. "It’s late. What are you doing out here? Go find your dad."

She was a little drunk, or at least wanted to look like she was. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes half-lidded, and the way she held herself had an easy, spoiled swagger that made Sloane look restrained by comparison.

Elias went still for half a beat, then put strength into his shoulders and tried to wrench himself free.

She felt it immediately and laughed under her breath. Her grip tightened at once.

"You think you’re getting away?" she said. "If I’ve got my hand on you, you’re not going anywhere."

Her voice stayed light, but the pressure in her fingers was real.

Elias’s eyes turned sharp and hard.

He hated people like this most of all, the kind who got a little alcohol in them and started acting like the whole world had become their toy.

"Let go of me."

She did not release him at once, so Elias stopped trying to be subtle and struggled harder. The force of it made it clear that if she insisted on dragging this out, she would have to either manhandle him properly or make a scene.

That seemed to cure her interest. She let go with a small click of her tongue.

"All right," she said. "Then tell me what you’re doing here."

Her gaze was clear now, far too clear for someone truly drunk.

Elias almost sighed.

So that was all it was. A little alcohol, maybe, but not enough to blur her head. She had simply spotted a boy who looked young, unknown, and easy to bother, and decided to amuse herself.

These rich girls really did look like they had been raised without anyone ever punching them back.

Even so, he only had enough energy to dedicate himself to Giselle tonight, not to every stray heiress who wanted entertainment.

His voice cooled. "I came to find Giselle."

That got a reaction.

The woman’s brows lifted, and something playful flickered through her expression. "Really? That’s funny. Nobody told me Giselle got herself a little boyfriend."

The moment the topic shifted there, Elias’s hostility weakened by instinct. Some of the hard edge left him.

"We’re not like that," he said. "I’m just her classmate. I came to bring her back so she can go to class."

The woman stared at him for a second, and then she burst out laughing.

"Classmate? Class?" She laughed again, louder this time. "Those words sound ridiculous next to her."

Looked at separately, there was nothing strange about either word. Put next to Giselle Frost, both of them became absurd.

She reached up and patted Elias once on the shoulder like she was rewarding him for being funny. When she tried to do it a second time, he dodged neatly out of range.

That only made her smile.

She did not seem offended. If anything, she looked entertained.

Tilting her chin toward the group gathered around Giselle, she said, "Then go on. Give it a shot. Let’s see whether you can actually talk her into leaving."

Elias cursed her in his head.

Another one.

This woman had the same rotten taste for spectacle Liora did. She wanted a show, and apparently he had been volunteered as tonight’s main attraction.

Did all of them enjoy watching him suffer this much?

Ahead of him, Giselle stood with her eyes closed.

There was a chill in her body.

It was not the jumpsuit. The suit only looked thin. It had been built for altitude, wind, and impact, and the material held warmth far better than it seemed it should.

The cold was coming from somewhere deeper.

She had been pushing herself too hard lately, too often, for too many days in a row. Her body was tired in the real way, the kind of tiredness that hollowed muscle from the inside and turned even normal air a little cold against the skin. It was warning her to stop. Warning her that this was enough and that she could go rest now.

Giselle ignored it.

She hated admitting things that made her resemble other people, especially people she despised, but facts remained facts whether she liked them or not.

In one ugly corner of herself, she was very much like her father.

He had ended his own life. She had no intention of doing the same. But the same bent toward self-destruction still ran in the blood somewhere, quiet and old and waiting for the right moment to show itself.

When her mood sank low enough, when the pressure inside her climbed to the point that ordinary distraction stopped working, only things that came close to wrecking her could smooth the inside of her mind back into stillness.

Extreme sports. Dangerous ones. The closer they edged toward ruin, the better they worked.

"All set."

The pilot’s voice carried over from the helicopter.

Giselle opened her eyes.

Around her, the rest of the group started moving, adjusting straps, shifting their weight, preparing to board.

A night jump was about as close to self-destruction as she could get without crossing all the way over. She was not here for adrenaline, not really, and not for fun. What she wanted was quieter than that. Sharper, too.

She wanted peace.

"Giselle!"

Someone called her name from behind.

At first she thought it might be the woman who had been laughing a few minutes earlier. The voice was wrong, though, thinner and more strained.

Giselle turned.

Out of the dark, a slim figure came running toward her, stumbling a little over the uneven ground, moving too fast for the terrain and too urgently to care.

Her eyes widened.

She had not expected Elias to be here. She had not expected him at all.

The surprise cost her the moment she needed to react.

By the time she fully registered what she was seeing, he had already reached her and thrown himself into her arms. His body hit hers with enough force to jolt her half a step back, and then his arms were around her waist, holding tight.

"Giselle..."

This time he was the one saying her name.

His voice carried that same familiar hint of tears she had heard before, and when she looked down, his eyes were already wet.

Elias was not faking all of it.

He really had panicked.

If Giselle went through with this and something actually happened to her, then his retirement plan was going straight to hell and he was going to get trapped here longer.

Absolutely not.

The warmth of him against her hit first, sudden and human and out of place in the cold night air.

A vein twitched at Giselle’s temple.

She said nothing.

She only reached down, caught one of Elias’s arms in her hand, and, while the people around them gasped in alarm, lifted and threw him clean off her.