“We still might need to find another way around,” Jac said as she positioned the line in the belaying device, anchored to an outcropping of solid rock, and adjusted the friction. “That ledge may not hold.”

Jac sounded worried, and Mallory knew it wasn’t from fear. Jac didn’t seem to have a fear bone in her body. They hadn’t talked since she’d kissed Jac in a moment of wild, insane abandon. What could she possibly say about that kiss? She might have dismissed Jac’s uninvited kiss as meaningless, but she’d kissed her back. And then some. She’d kissed Jac. Even thinking the words made her head hurt. She hadn’t intended to kiss Jac. Hadn’t known she was going to do it. But Jac’s hands on her face had been so incredibly gentle, incredibly tender. Unbelievably powerful. And then Jac’s mouth had been exploring hers, careful but not cautious. Testing, asking, but never hesitant. Jac was never hesitant. Even now she wasn’t afraid. But Mallory was afraid for her—just a tiny kernel of fear she couldn’t let grow.

“We’ll take it slow.” Mallory grasped Jac’s shoulder and squeezed. Right now, she needed to put what had happened between them out of her mind. Somehow. “If we have to backtrack, we will, but if we do, we’ll probably have to go halfway down the mountain to find an alternate route. We’ll lose the light, and I hate taking the chance they’re up ahead somewhere. Possibly close by. We can’t leave them out here another night. They won’t make it.”

“I know that, and I agree with you.” Jac leaned close as a gust of wind swirled a cloud of snow around them. Her words came close to Mallory’s ear, her breath warm against Mallory’s neck. “But I’m not gonna take a chance on losing you. I’m just not.”

“I know what I’m doing. You have to trust me on that when we’re out here in the field.”

“I do,” Jac said instantly. “I trust you wherever we are.”

Mallory’s throat tightened. Jac had to be the bravest woman Mallory had ever met. She’d been hurt, betrayed, abandoned, and still she took risks. Jac didn’t hide her heart, she didn’t shield herself. What the hell was wrong with her? “Don’t do that, Jac, just don’t.”

“Don’t do what? Trust you? Why not?”

Jac sounded so damn reasonable and looked so damn beautiful with strands of wavy dark curls framing her face below her red wool cap, Mallory didn’t know whether to shake her or kiss her again. “Because I meant what I said back there. You kissed me and I kissed you back. I won’t lie about that.” She shook her head. “How could I? But it’s not happening again. I don’t want it. I don’t need it. And if we’re going to work together, that kiss needs to stay back there from now on. Let it go. Now.”

The brilliant light in Jac’s eyes dimmed, as if shutters had slammed closed. “I get it, Mallory. It won’t be an issue. You have my word.”

“Good,” Mallory said, a hollow ache spreading inside her. Finally, her words had gotten through, so why didn’t she feel happy? Watching Jac pull away hurt. She hadn’t expected it to hurt, though why, she didn’t know. She seemed to be without defenses whenever Jac was around—feeling everything as if she had no shields, the slightest touch searing through her, every look, every word striking deep inside her. Now that the invisible connection had snapped, a spot between her breasts burned as if she were bleeding. She sucked in a breath, steadied herself. “Okay. Let’s get across and find these kids.”

“Right,” Jac said, her tone all business. Nothing in her voice, nothing in her expression, indicated that only a few hours ago they had touched like lovers.

“On belay.” Mallory put the image from her mind. She couldn’t afford to think of it now, she couldn’t afford to think of it ever. She inched out onto the ledge, tested the footing with her ice ax, and called, “Slack.”

Jac played out some of the rope, and Mallory advanced foot by foot. After she’d gone six feet, she called, “Tension,” braced her legs, and pounded in an ice bolt. Once she’d clipped the rope to the protection, she repeated the procedure, slowly making her way across the ledge.

“Off rope,” she called when she reached the other side. She untied the rope and fed it through her ATC to guide Jac’s climb across. Ice crystals swirled in the air, catching what little light remained and refracting it into tiny rainbows. Jac stood on the far side of the ravine, her features softened by the winter mist. So much more separated them than thirty feet of ice and rock and empty air. Jac was brave, but Mallory wasn’t. Two good men had died, men she’d worked with for years, as close to her as brothers. She’d loved them like brothers, and their deaths had nearly crippled her. Even friendship was a risk. Her love for Sarah—the thought of losing her—terrified her now. She didn’t want more, and Jac made her want more.

“On belay,” Mallory called.

“Roger,” Jac said. “On belay.”

Mallory adjusted the tension on the line, watching Jac’s every move. “Nice and slow, Russo.”

“Not to worry,” Jac called, flashing a grin that caught Mallory by surprise and set off a small earthquake of shivers along her spine. “Remember, steady is my middle name.”

Mallory ignored the sharp slice of frigid air knifing through her chest with every breath. All that mattered was Jac. The second climber was usually the most secure, which was why she had gone first to begin with. But the ledge was tricky and visibility low in the swirl of ice and snow. She wasn’t going to be able to shake the slithering dread in her belly until Jac was beside her on solid ground. She swallowed the urge to tell her to hurry.

Jac viewed the narrow ledge as she would an IED—a formidable enemy, but one she knew how to beat. Her vision sharpened, her thoughts crystallized, and the tang of adrenaline filled her mouth. Battle lust. She’d known it all her life in one form or another. Only this time she wasn’t fighting alone. Mallory had her back. Confident, ready, she unhooked her ax from her belt, grasped the rope, and stepped out onto the ice- and snow-covered shelf. Her pulse was steady, her breathing regular, her mind focused only on one thing—keeping herself and her climbing partner safe. Mallory’s crossing could have loosened the underlying ice and snowpack, creating unstable footing, and she checked each foothold carefully before she moved. When she reached the first of Mallory’s bolts, she unclipped her rope. Blinking away tears stirred by the lashing wind, she called, “Tension!”

Mallory took up the slack, and Jac set off again. The surface underfoot was nearly obscured by blowing snow, uneven and slippery. She tapped the ground directly in front of her, sending loose rock and ice skittering over the side. A few seconds later a heavy thud sounded from far below followed by the rumble of a mini-avalanche reverberating up the rocky cleft. She reached the halfway point, and some of the tension in her shoulders eased a little bit. Another few minutes and she’d be on solid ground. She took another step, felt the snow shift under her boots, felt the vibration, heard a grinding sound, and had only a second to tighten her grip on the rope.

“Falling,” Jac shouted and the ledge gave way. Her shoulder struck the edge of the rocky outcropping as she dropped, and a searing pain shot down her right arm. Her fingers went numb, and she lost her grip on the guide rope, free-falling until the slack caught and her harness jerked her roughly into a horizontal position, like a fly on the end of a line. She twirled, spinning around, driving her already damaged shoulder into the wall again. She cried out, unable to stop herself, and tasted blood in her mouth.

“Jac!” Mallory called from above. “Jac?”

“Here.” Jac swallowed blood, the initial swell of panic fading. She wasn’t falling anymore. The rope had held. She kicked her feet around, forcing her torso toward the wall until she found a handhold on a three-inch root sticking out through the ice. She got herself vertical, head up, feet down, and craned her neck to see above her. A dark shadow broke the uniform fall of snow. Jac rubbed her face on her sleeve, clearing dirt and debris, and focused on the shape. Mallory knelt on the ledge, her features stony, the guide rope tight around her hips.

“Are you hurt?” Mallory called down.

“Banged up my shoulder. My arm isn’t working quite right, but I think it’s just sprained.”

“Can you climb?”

Jac braced her feet against the vertical wall and dug her toes into the frozen surface, searching for a foothold as she gripped the rope with her good arm. “Yes.”

“Let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll pull you up.”

Snow, rocks, and small pebbles broke free from the gap in the ledge and rained down in Jac’s face. She closed her eyes and turned her head away. When the shower stopped, the gap in the shelf was wider, and a fresh gouge in the rock face had appeared just below where Mallory knelt. “That ledge isn’t safe, Mal. You need to reposition.”

“We need to get you up. Climb.”

Jac knew what Mallory wasn’t saying. The rest of the ledge could give way at any second, and if it did, they would both fall with very little chance of getting back up again. Once she put her weight against the wall, with Mallory as the fulcrum, that ledge would bear even more weight. “Mal, I don’t think—”

“Climb, damn it, Jac. Don’t argue.”

Jac tightened her grip, pushed down with her thighs, and pulled herself up as Mallory reeled in the slack. More stones fell, a chunk of ice bounced off her back.

“I’m not taking you down with me,” Jac yelled.

“No one is going to fall. Keep coming. Another couple of feet and I’ll have you.”

Jac secured new footholds, flexed her thighs, bunched her shoulders, and shoved herself up. The rope tightened as Mallory worked her end. The crack below the ledge widened. She was close, but not close enough. “Back off to somewhere stable, Mal. I can make it from here.”