I think hewantsme to refuse so he’ll have even more reason to question my loyalty.
No fucking way.
I point my index finger at him with a claw already extended. “I’m doing this even though I don’t even think we should be bothering with this Ursula woman, because I know she’s important to you and the other guys. And the four of you are important to me. That’s theonlyreason I’m doing it. So keep that in mind instead of whatever snarky thoughts you’d usually be thinking while I’m getting myself chilled to the bone going up there.”
Jacob blinks with a twitch of his eyelids as if he’s trying to hide that he’s startled. Then his mouth presses into a flat line.
Before he can let out yet another of those snarky thoughts, I stalk away from him toward the cliff.
Standing on the rocky bank several feet from where the water hits the shallow pond beneath, I study my target. It’s a pretty ridiculous setup all around.
Some rich asshole our new hacker associate has a problem with built an off-the-grid cottage at the very top of this tall, slim plateau. I hate to think how much energy the prick is wasting pumping water the fifty feet up to the top only to have it spill back down again all around the house.
Apparently the only regular way in and out of the residence is by helicopter—if you can call that “regular.” But he’s never met a gal with superhuman strength and steely claws before.
The lights are off in the cottage. The hacker was able to tell us that his nemesis had a business trip keeping him away all night.
I don’t need to see where I’m going, though. It’s a simple matter of climbing straight up—and not falling.
Easy peasy.
I tug on the water shoes that are one piece of special equipment we bought for this endeavor and wade through the waist-deep pond in my leggings and long-sleeved tee, both black to blend into the night. The liquid chill bites into my legs.
The faster I pull this off, the sooner I can get out of it.
As I push right under the waterfall, I can’t restrain a cringe at the tumbling water pummeling my hair. But there’s a small gap between the flow of the falls and the rocky wall of the cliff, at least this far down.
I press myself into that water-free gap, swipe strands of drenched hair back from my face, reach up to hook my clawed fingers into the highest crevices I can reach, and haul myself upward.
The first half of the climb isn’t so bad, as horrible pastimes go. My shoulders start to ache with the strain of hauling my weight upward, but I’m catching on enough nooks and crannies with my toes in their flexible footwear that I can propel myself up quickly and not rely on my arms for everything.
But the gap between the cliff and the waterfall narrows. First, it’s just little streams hitting the back of my head here and there. Then, a continuous current gushes over my hair and down the back of my shirt.
I can’t even shiver with the cold, or I might lose my grasp on the slick stone.
Gritting my teeth, I heave myself upward as quickly as I can without getting careless. Stretch a little farther. Reach a little higher.
Silently cuss out Jacob for decidingIshould do this when Zian probably could have made the climb just as easily. More easily, really, since he’s got no poison at all nibbling away at his muscles.
I’m one hundred percent sure Jacob’s choice wasn’t only because I might have an easier time sneaking into the actual building with my smaller frame.
Eventually, he’s going to have to see that I’m completely on their side. There won’t be any way he can deny it with that logical brain of his.
The worst section is the last ten or so feet right beneath the plateau. I have to grip the rocky ridges so tightly my fingers throb, digging my claws right into the limestone. My head stays bowed to the full deluge of water rushing over me.
Just a little farther. Just keep moving…
With my next reach, my hand finds no more stone surface above me. I grope forward and touch the flat plane where the waterfall originates. With a gasp of relief in my throat, I throw myself through the roaring current, clambering all the way to a wooden deck that juts from the building ahead of me.
I haul myself out of the water and lie there on the buffed boards for a couple of minutes, catching my breath and letting my muscles recover. And also shedding the buckets of water that soaked into my hair and clothes. Then I stand up and wring even more moisture out of my shirt and leggings.
I slip off my water shoes and leave them on the deck. The “cottage” looms over me, a two-story structure that appears to be almost entirely glossy windows, framed here and there by dark wood.
How much money would you need in your accounts to feel comfortable throwing however many tens of millions it took to build and maintain this place?
But that’s not my business. I’m just here to grab what I came for and go.
I slip around the house, searching for the entrance. The owner values his privacy—the only security cameras I spot are set up around the helipad at the far end of the deck area.