“Goddammit, Meghan, you stubborn redhead! Don’t you dare let go!”
Meghan Christopher grit her teeth and glanced down at the jagged rocks that lined the cliff she dangled over. She concentrated on keeping her body straight for the inevitable drop to the cold river water below. This was such a bad idea—one of her worst—but she looked up and stared into Rusty Cundieff’s hard green eyes. He couldn’t hold onto her much longer, he was almost half way over the edge.
“I can make it, Rusty. I’ll go down straight to the water.” Rusty was strong—special-operations-soldier strong—but…
“Fuck. Don’t you—” His calloused hand locked more firmly around her wrist. “Meghan.” He growled that warning tone she was so familiar with.
She inhaled and made a fist with the hand he had locked on her, then immediately twisted her wrist the way he had taught her to force a captor to release a hold. His eyes speared into hers before she dropped like an arrow to the water below. She kept her arms iron straight against her thighs as she shot toward the water.
He was gonna be so pissed.
It was her last thought before she plunged, vintage hiking boots first, into the freezing water. Volumes of fluid jetted through her thick red-brown hair and shocked her warm scalp with its sudden cold temperature. Rusty’s angry outburst was cut off when water roared past her ears as she torpedoed toward the river pool floor.
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