“Get in first,” he tells me, motioning to the last taxi. I climb in after he gives the address to the first and second drivers. Harper sits to my left. And then Cleo jumps in and squishes to my right. How the hell did I get sandwiched between them?
Ryke takes the passenger seat by the driver. “Follow those cabs,” he tells him. “Quickly.” And the van speeds off.
Cleo leans forward, her elbow digging into my thigh. “Is she okay?” she asks Ryke, sticking her head in between the seats.
I’m wondering the same thing, Ryke.I need some info here.
“The hostess said the guy she walked out with is a local travel agent. She gave me a list of spots he takes tourists to.”
“So she hasn’t been kidnaped?” Harper says.
“Not until he realizes who she is,” Cleo adds.
I shoot them both a glare. “Not helping.” My stomach sinks and knots. I stare up at Ryke in the front seat. “How do you know which spot he took her to?”
“I have a feeling?—”
“A feeling?” I snap. “Ryke, she’s missing, and you barely know her?—”
“I know her enough,” he says. “She’s fucking impetuous and daring, a little too bold and way too fucking fearless.”
That sounds about right.
“Trust me, Lily.” He cranes his neck over his shoulder to look at me, and Cleo backs up a little, leaning against her seat again. “I promise that I’ll find her. I won’t let anything happento that girl, okay?” Confidence and determination pulses in his eyes. I just hope he chose the correct place. I’d rather not chase her around Mexico to find that the tour guide had kidnapped her after all.
I nod once, and Cleo actually takes my hand and squeezes lightly. Compassion—something I’m not used to from people. Especially girls.
I give her a weak smile, and she returns it. The cabs roll to a stop, and Cleo slides open the door. We crawl out, flip-flops hitting cement. Girls pool from the other cabs in front of us, and we all gather together after the vans drive off. I have no idea where we are. At the bottom of a sloping hill, I spot a group of tourists staring at the side of a yellowish, brown cliff. I hear the roar of the ocean and the splash as water crashes into the rock. White capped waves flow into a ravine that separates the tourists’ lookout point from the cliff. And the crowd watches the rock and the water. I know what this is, but I don’t want to believe it.
Ryke practically runs down the hill towards the tourists, and the girls take their time following. I sprint to catch up to him.
“Did she go scuba diving?”
“No,” he says tersely, reaching the bottom. He scrutinizes the faces, trying to find Daisy’s among the people, and I follow their gaze towards the cliff.
My heart nearly explodes. Because a set of five bronze-skinned men stand on the side of a forty-foot cliff, some locals even higher at the top, probably eighty-feet. And one springs off, his body arched as he dives.
Straight.
Into the ravine below.
Oh. My. God.
He makes a little splash, but all I see is rock and then rock and then the little sliver of water that he could have easily missed. Holy. Shit.
Where is my sister?! And then, I see her. She’s not standing with the tourists on the “safe” side where we are. No, she has somehow found her way on the cliff. Barefoot, she clings to the middle of the rock and scoots over as one of the divers directs her where to place her feet.
I cup my hands to my mouth. “DAISY!” I scream until my throat burns. She’s crazy. Certifiable.
Ryke freezes by my side and lets out a string of profanities.
“I have to go get her,” I say, my ribs constricting around my lungs. She can’t jump. She’s not a trained diver. We’re in Acapulco, Mexico where the men have probably dived from the ledge hundreds of times, timing the rate of the waves into the rock, knowing exactly which spot to hit. She knows nothing!
“No,” Ryke tells me. “I’m going to get her. You’ll have a panic attack halfway up the fucking cliff. Just stay here. Watch the girls. Take a fucking breath.” He looks like he needs one too. He doesn’t waste another second talking to me. He darts off in the direction where we came from, trying to find a way to the cliff side.
I just watch her little speck of blonde hair that’s tied in a braid at her shoulder. She nods as a local diver points to the water below and then motions to the rock.At least he’s teaching her, is all I think. If she jumps she could die or get a concussion. This is not in the itinerary.
“Oh my God,” Cleo exclaims, reaching my side. Her fingers curl around the metal safety railing. “Is that Daisy?”
