Chapter One
“Grip the rope just like you would the reins.”
Mathias Trace leveled a look at his instructor for rappelling training. “Horses aren’t forty-seven feet off the ground.”
The guy’s lips twitched as he checked that the carabiner was secure one more time before sending Mathias to his death. It wasn’t that he was afraid of heights—he was a born and bred Montana boy and spent plenty of time at high altitude. He just didn’t like the thought of his balls dangling a couple of stories above the ground.
From below, his fellow WEST Protection team who’d already made the trip down the wall with ease craned their necks to watch his descent.
“Hurry up, ya scaredy cat!” his cousin Corrine called out.
“When I reach the ground, I’m allowed to gag her, aren’t I?” he asked his instructor.
The guy gave the nonchalant shrug of a Marine who’d seen new recruits wet their cammies during this training exercise. “She’s your cousin.”
“My bet’s on Mathias stalling at the top!” Corrine jeered. “Let’s go, big tough guy! Show us what you got!”
Mathias met his instructor’s stare. “The girl is going down.”
That got a grin from him. “See ya at the bottom, Trace.”
With one hand locked on the rope at his spine and the other on the rope at his waist, he eased over the top of the wall. Every couple of months the WEST Protection team took courses to hone their old skills and learn new ones. He couldn’t imagine a time he’d ever need to rappel off a damn cliff in order to do his duty as a bodyguard, but here he was. Now he had no choice but to go down or Corrine would be made richer from whatever bet she made.
Steeling himself, he braced a foot on the other side of the wall and hung there for a moment.
“Easy, Trace. Turn your head and look down at the target you want to hit.”
The image of a red bullseye bloomed in his mind’s eye, with him splatted in the center when he fell forty-five and a half feet to his death.
“Mathias! Mathias!” Corrine chanted from the bottom.
He should have spent more time terrorizing her as a child, and then she wouldn’t dare taunt him now. But being so many years apart in age, he’d taken the high road and done what most older cousins did with younger annoying ones—ignored her.
Her voice reached him, carrying on the wind clear as a bell. “I don’t think he’s gonna do it.”
He inched down the wall a step.
Next thing he knew, the sole of his boot left contact with the wooden wall and he was hanging in midair, falling fast toward the ground.
“The rope! Tighten your grip on the rope!” the instructor at the top yelled.
Mathias clamped his hand on the line dangling him like a puppet for all his family members and buddies at the bottom to see.
He got his bearings and eased the final ten feet to the ground.
“Son of a bitch,” he bit off as he touched down.
His other cousin Ross ran up to help him unclip the rope secured around his middle. Times like these Mathias regretted becoming part of the family business. When he agreed to financially back Ross’s bodyguard agency, Mathias thought the most action he’d see was guarding the local fairgrounds and the occasional parade float carrying a state senator down the middle of Main Street.
Instead, all his weaknesses were on full display for the WEST team to harass him about.
Corrine sidled up, a grin slapped on her face and that telltale Wynton dimple flashing in her cheek. “You just made me fifty bucks richer, cousin.”
Mathias’s hand stilled on the rope he was busy disentangling himself from. One look at that damn dimple was all it took—he whipped his knife out of his boot and sliced through the rope. The rope felt right in his hand when he coiled it into a lasso, snapped it out and landed the loop directly over Corrine’s torso.
He had the satisfaction of watching her eyes widen a split second before he yanked hard. The lasso tightened, flattening her arms against her body. So when he tugged again, she fell to the ground with a jarring thud.
“Ross!” she called out for her brother’s help.
Ross chuckled. “You got yourself into this with your big mouth.”
“Fifty bucks says you can’t get yourself out of this rope before I can drag you across the ground.” Mathias shot his baby cousin a glance.
She struggled to free her arms, wriggling in the dirt like an earthworm.
“Might wanna pick up your head so it doesn’t bounce on the rocks.” As he started to drag his cousin, she screamed.
Laughter sounded. Mathias hauled her a dozen feet or so and stopped. She glared up at him, her red face screwed up and the dimple nowhere in sight.
He stood over her. “I reckon we’re both done for the day.” He reached down and jerked the rope to free her. She log-rolled out of the confinement and sat up, ponytail hanging off to the side of her head and poisonous darts shooting from the hazel eyes that resembled her mother’s.
The guys gathered around her, and her other brother Boone extended a hand to help her up. She took it, and he launched her to her feet.
“You owe me fifty bucks,” she muttered to him.
“Not a chance.”
The instructor made it to the ground and circled to the group. “Cooler’s over there. Grab yourselves a bottle of water and take a break.”
Mathias sauntered to the cooler and grabbed as many bottles as he could hold. Truth was, he needed a moment to collect himself. He didn’t like failing with or without his team there to witness it.
He returned to the group and started tossing drinks to each one. Boone and Ross seemed to be the center of attention and the topic was, of all things, weddings.
“Never thought I’d see the day when Ross and Boone Wynton voiced their concerns over their wedding attire,” he drawled.
Ross fielded one of the water bottles and screwed off the cap. “Come over to my place and you’ll see that the entire house and garage are white and blue. But not any old blue—Yale blue, according to Pippa.”
“What the hell’s Yale blue?” Boone asked.
“You know—the university colors. Sort of a dusty, wishy-washy color.” Ross didn’t sound as invested in the color scheme as his fiancée. He turned to Boone. “What are your weddin’ colors?”
Boone slugged back some water and exhaled as he pulled his lips off the rim. “A peachy color. But not peach.”
Ross grunted. “’Course not.”
“Don’t get me started on the honeymoon plans.”
Mathias was happy for his cousins. Finding someone you wanted to marry didn’t happen every day. But he didn’t have anything to add to the conversation, seeing how he’d been single for two years now with no break for that dry spell in sight.
He finished his water and crushed the bottle. Glancing at his team consisting of his cousins, his brother and their family friend, he didn’t feel a bit out of his element. He might not be a military hero type, but he held his own in hand-to-hand combat and provided backup when needed.
He just preferred to hang out in the wings or provide behind-the-scenes support. Especially on days like today when the wall challenge bested him. He would try again, but he wouldn’t be doing it in front of his team.