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The nearest support was in front of him, but lower, about ten feet away.
No, seven. Seven sounded better.
If he thought about this too long, he’d chicken out.
He climbed onto the safety bar, grabbing the steel frame and holding on.
“Holy crap,” Kate cried. “Are you insane?”
His hands were going to be making an impression in the steel in a second. He could feel sweat beginning to collect under his fingertips. “Don’t rock the car!” he shouted.
She went completely still.
Air whipped around him, excited by the frenzy of activity. He had nowhere near enough control to ask it to help him make this jump, but he tried anyway.
“You’re crazy,” said Kate.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he said.
And then he jumped.
He hit the supports hard. The entire frame rattled. The metal rails were narrower than he’d expected, wet and hard to grip. Blood streaked the white paint, and he realized the rusted metal had sliced into his hands.
It didn’t hurt yet.
That meant it would hurt a lot later.
He swung his legs until he found purchase, then looped an arm around the support to take the pressure off his palms.
He took a glance. His hands were a mess.
Then he heard another scream and realized there were a lot of people a lot worse off than he was.
Hunter started to climb. It was like this stupid Ferris wheel had been built precisely to frustrate him, because each support was about a foot too far from the next for him to reach. He had to climb in, toward the center, before he could start climbing down.
His hands were still bleeding. They kept slipping.
Something hit the Ferris wheel and sent a shudder through the frame. He swore and had to loop an arm to stay upright. Had some idiot tried to follow him?
Yes. Kate.
She’d taken the impact better than he had—or maybe she’d just learned from watching him. She’d caught the bars with her arms, and now sat braced in the corner where two supports met. Hunter felt a moment of panic, wondering if he should climb up to help her—or continue climbing down.
But then she started to move, and he realized he should be following her lead.
Kate moved like a frigging acrobat. She twisted between the supports as if they’d been assembled specifically for her use. She’d almost caught up to him in a quarter of the time it had taken him to cross the same distance.
She looked like she belonged in a movie, her blond hair and fair skin striking against the backdrop of the Ferris wheel lightbulbs and the smoky blaze behind her.
“Seriously,” she called. “The staring?”
He shook himself and kept climbing. His palms burned but he ignored it.
The ride had stopped between passengers, so no car sat by the booth. The wheel stopped about ten feet above the platform—which was a six-foot square with a tiny operator booth, sitting about ten feet above the ground.
If he missed this jump, it would almost be worse than the first one. The first would have killed him.
This one would just hurt like a bitch.
