Page 56 of Stalkers Anonymous

“Even better. Fear means you’re paying attention.”

He walks us through the safety briefing like he’s done this a thousand times. We’re doing a tandem jump, which means I’ll be strapped to Cole’s chest—or rather, he’ll be strapped to my back. He’ll handle the technical stuff while I focus on not screaming my throat raw or flailing too much.

“Now, the landing zone,” Jack says, pulling up a map on his phone. “It’s a nice big clearing in a valley about ten miles east. Easy approach, soft terrain, very forgiving.”

“Soft terrain,” I repeat, liking the sound of something gentle and cloud-like at the bottom of our jump.

“And forgiving,” Jack confirms.

There’s a flicker of something across his face. Maybe an itch, or maybe a smile that he kills before it can fully form. Either way, it sends a bolt of suspicion down my spine.

Cole narrows his eyes at Jack. “Define soft.”

“You know, the usual. Grass. Earth. The standard fall-from-the-sky-onto-the-planet experience.”

“Jack.”

“Coke.”

They have a brief stare-off that I don’t fully understand. Then Jack claps his hands together. “Anyway! Harnesses!”

“How many times have you done this before?” I ask Cole as Jack helps me into the harness.

“Only a few hundred,” he says casually, like it’s no big deal. “Did my jump certification in the military, kept it up after.”

“Of course you did.” I shake my head. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

“Cook,” he says without hesitation. “I once set off a smoke detector boiling water.”

“How is that even possible?”

“Forgot about it. For two hours.”

Jack snorts. “He’s not lying. He could hardly piece together an MRE on missions. In a kitchen? Atrocious.”

The harness feels strange—snug across my chest and thighs. Cole checks every connection three times, his hands professional but thorough, and I try not to shiver when his fingers brush my hips.

“You good?” he asks, his voice low enough that Jack can’t hear.

“Nervous,” I admit. “But the good kind.”

“That’s my girl.”

My girl. The words send a warm pulse through my chest that travels down between my thighs.

As we walk to the plane, I notice Jack tossing something into the back of his company van that looks suspiciously like a stack of clean towels.

“Why does he have so many towels?” I lean in to ask Cole.

Cole is already watching Jack. “Probably from the last group.”

We climb into the plane, and Jack takes us up in a smooth ascent that makes my ears pop. The higher we go, the more the landscape unfolds beneath us—a patchwork quilt of autumn colors. The mountains rise in an explosion of majestic color, and in the distance, the late sun casts everything in gold. It’s breathtaking in a way that almost makes me forget we’re about to voluntarily exit this aircraft.

Almost.

“Two minutes,” Jack calls back to us.

Cole positions himself behind me, and suddenly his body is pressed against mine as he clips our harnesses together. Every point of contact feels alive and buzzing—his chest against my back, his thighs bracketing mine, his breath hot against my ear.