The headlights catch glimpses of a drop-off to our right—hundreds of feet down to tree tops that look like black teeth in the darkness. My hands grip the door handle white-knuckled, and Sawyer notices.
"I won't let us go over," he says quietly.
"How can you be sure?"
"Because you're in the car, and I've decided nothing bad happens to you on my watch."
The certainty in his voice makes something in my chest loosen. This man, who doesn't know me beyond a file and a firefight, has decided I'm worth protecting.
After three days of being hunted by someone who claimed to love me, Sawyer's straightforward commitment feels like oxygen after drowning.
Finally, he stops at what looks like an impassible cliff face.
"We walk from here."
"How far?" I grab my messenger bag with the laptop, and he pulls a large pack from the back.
"Three miles, mostly vertical." He hands me a headlamp. "There's a fire watch tower that's been abandoned for twenty years. I've been maintaining it as a bolt-hole. No one knows it exists except me."
"Why tell me?"
He looks at me in the darkness, face half-shadowed. "Because you need to know you're safe. And because if something happens to me, you need to be able to get yourself out."
The practicality of it—planning for his potential death—makes my chest tight. "Nothing's going to happen to you."
"Everyone thinks that until it does." He starts up the trail. "Stay close. Some of these drops are fatal if you slip."
The climb is brutal. I'm in good shape from aikido and running, but this is different—scrambling over rocks, pulling yourself up near-vertical sections, every muscle screaming.
The first section is deceptive—a steep trail that seems manageable until you realize it goes on forever, switchbacking up a slope that grows progressively steeper.
My calves burn after ten minutes.
My thighs are screaming after twenty.
Sawyer stays just ahead, occasionally reaching back to help me over obstacles, his hand warm and solid in mine.
"Break," he says at a small ledge, maybe a thousand feet up.
I collapse against a rock, gulping water from the bottle he hands me. Below us, the world falls away into darkness. Above,stars crowd the sky in a way they never do in the city. It's beautiful and terrifying in equal measure.
"You doing okay?" He's not even breathing hard, the bastard.
"Peachy." I wheeze. "Love climbing mountains in the middle of the night while being hunted by terrorists."
"Could be worse."
"How?"
"Could be raining."
I laugh despite everything, and his mouth quirks in what might be a smile.
"Tyler used to say that. Every mission that went sideways, he'd find something that could be worse.'At least we're not in a swamp.' 'At least no one's shooting rockets at us.' 'At least the food's better than MREs.'"
"Sounds like a good partner."
"The best." The smile fades. "Until I got him killed."
