“So what’s the objective here?” Bobby asked as a camera appeared.
I put on my game face. “Knock down as many of those barrels as possible.”
“With what?”
“Your body.” I grinned, pointing to the nearest crane. “You have to swing out on the wakeboard, hit the ramp, and aim for the stack.”
“Are you feeling focused after what happened last week?” Bobby asked.
I kept the smile plastered to my face. Hell yes, I was focused. “Absolutely. You can’t afford to do what we do and not be focused. That’s how…”
“People get hurt,” Bobby supplied.
“Right.”
As Pax walked up the dock, the cameras took mercy on me and headed toward him.
But although I was fully focused on the stunt at hand, Rachel was never far from my mind. How could she be when she was never more than twenty feet away? Her smile was electric as she watched the others ride, and I wasn’t the only one who noticed.
The newer Renegades—the ones who didn’t know our history—were lining up to get a couple of minutes with her. Of course they were attracted to her. She was gorgeous, smart, and capable of keeping up with our insane lifestyle. She thrived on this just like I thrived on her. A wave of possessiveness washed over me, but I didn’t need to act on it. She had their attentions firmly under control.
I strapped on my wakeboard, checked my GoPro, and took my position on the dock, ready to jump-start my run before the bowling started. Two deep breaths later, I’d blocked out the avalanche and every voice in my head that screamed this wasn’t a good idea.
Of course it wasn’t a good idea. That was why we were doing it.
I signaled the crane operator and gripped the rope handle, ready for the yank I knew was coming. It didn’t disappoint. The speed with which the crane instantly pulled me gave the needed velocity to start from dry land instead of the water, and I hit the smooth surface with a measured impact, heading for the first jump. I adjusted my grip, bent my knees, and took the ramp, pulling an immediate airborne 360.
It felt glorious.
Next ramp I hit a flip, my body falling back into effortless rhythm. The angle of the rope from the crane gave me better lift, higher jumps, and the speed didn’t hurt on the air time for inverts and grabs. Somewhere in my head I recognized that the speed was dangerous, that if I hit the dock I’d end up with more than a few stitches in my arm. But I was in complete control, and it was exactly what I needed.
I’d had one disastrous, shitty stunt, but I was still a Renegade, still capable of pushing my body to the very limit in the name of epic stunts. Just for fun, I hit the next ramp—the highest one in the park—at the fastest speed I could pull and then flipped my body once, and then again, my board smacking against the water just after I brought myself back vertical. Even Pax couldn’t pull that one off.
I went through the gamut on my run, savoring the movement, the speed, the adrenaline rush. As I cruised to a stop, I mock bowed to the applause. Once I hauled myself up onto the dock and unstrapped my board, I looked up to see Rachel grinning down at me.
“Super?” I asked after the cameraman scored his shot and went to his next location.
Her grin faltered momentarily before she shrugged. “Almost.”
“What’s it going to take?”
“Not sure this time. I’ll let you know when I see it.”
“Yeah, yeah. Get your butt down here. You’re up first for bowling.”
I finished inspecting the tow rope attached to the crane and then double-checked the boot sizing on Rachel’s wakeboard. Once that was done, I tested out the latches and nodded to myself. It was safe for her to ride.
I gave her the nod, and she disengaged from the four guys who had flanked her, none of them realizing they didn’t have a chance in hell with her. I almost felt bad for them. Almost.
“All safe?” she asked.
I gave the cable another tug. “You’ll be okay.”
“So the idea is that I knock over those foam barrels,” she clarified.
“You got it. The more you take out, the more points you get.”
She looped her arms around my neck. “What do I get if I win?”
I glanced over her shoulder, where Bobby was smacking the cameraman on the shoulder. “Anything you want,” I promised her.
“Oh yeah?” She came up on her tiptoes, and I backed off.
“Cameras,” I explained. “Look, I’ll go public with you any second you want, but I’m not going to push you there.”
Her arms slid from around my neck. “Yeah. Cameras. Of course. What was I thinking?”
“That this was easier the first time we tried it?”
She laughed. “Ha. Then we were just sneaking around from Wilder. Now we’re hiding it from an entire documentary.”
“Hiding what?” I prompted her.
She rolled her eyes. “See you on the flip side.”
I retreated as she strapped on her wakeboard. Once she gave the signal, she was off without another glance back. It was one of the things I’d always loved about her—she had the same drive, the identical need for the adrenaline rush that I did. I never had to explain myself or the stupid shit I pulled, because she was right there with me.
I held my breath when she hit the ramp. Knowing she was more than capable didn’t mean my stomach didn’t clench when she went airborne, or when she let go of the rope from the crane and spun in midair, flinging out her arms to topple as many barrels as possible. She brought them all tumbling down and then came back to the surface laughing.