Page 52 of Shielding Instinct

She arranged the people to hold the rope, then tied herself into a hasty—the kind of quick and dirty way someone can get a rope on for a climb.

Was it weird in her sundress?

Only in that the rope between her legs was against her flesh, and she was going to come out of this with some severe abrasions.

Did she care?

Hell to the no.

She strapped the helmet in place, taking the time to adjust it properly—Petra wasn’t interested in having her brains bashed against the rocks.

“Listen up,” she bellowed over the wind and surf. “When I have information, I’ll communicate it to you. You are not to call down there asking for updates. You’ll break my concentration. I don’t want to hear anything from you unless you’re warning me about another giant wave or that there’s a rescue crew on site. Not within sight.Onsite, ready to act. Okay?” She looked around the circle. “Is everyone in agreement? Are we all on the same page?”

The body stances of the people around her were an interesting mixture. They all seemed to have some combination of anxiety and relief that someone was doing something.

She could see the adrenaline at work in their systems, telling them to act, but not having a ready way to use it up made them fidgety.

Mostly, they were shocked that this was how their day had turned out.

Rightly so.

Usually, people don’t run into circumstances where they are suddenly part of a lifeline.

Petra’s focus followed the hot pink climbing rope to the four men, who were gripping a section. Sitting on their butts, legs bent, feet wedged into the rocks the way Petra had instructed, they could use their leg strength, too.

“If things work out the way I want them to, you guys won’t be exerting for a while. I’ll mostly have my own weight. I just need you to get me over the lip. This is a good opportunity to test how this feels and check your grip. Make sure it’s something you can sustain because once I’m down there, my life will literally be in your hands.”

She shouldn’t have said that.

It didn’t rally them the way it did at boot camp or Quantico.

One of the guys released the rope to swipe his hands over his shorts. She could see the rings of sweat at his pits.

“There are lots of people around who can grab onto the back of the rope. Make sure you let them know you need helpbeforeyou actually need the help, okay?” She tried to reassure them.

She got bobbled head nods and wide fixed eyelids instead.

Adrenaline was definitely kicking around their systems.

Good. That would give them extra strength.

Petra sat down, dangled her legs into the hole, and waited for the wave to recede. She bent her head and yelled. “Terry, I’m coming down to you! Coming down now!” She wanted the guy to have a moment to get that thought into his brain.

He had to be in shock.

He had to be thinking that this was a hell of a way to go.

People worried about heart attacks and car crashes, house fires and bad guys. She bet no one ever thought, I desperately hope I don’t die by being bashed to death in a blow hole in Paradise.

Petra rolled over until her hips balanced on the edge of the hole and her stomach was toward the ground. She gripped the rope and called out, “Lower away.”

The men pulled their elbows into their ribs and braced to take her weight.

With her free hand, Petra pressed away from the rocks, looking up to see Beans doing his job as her spotter and conveyer of her directives.

Glancing over, she made sure that Carlos was still acting as a rogue wave looker-outer—was there a word for that? Wave guard?

Doesn’t matter. Here I go.

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