High Risk

CHAPTER 5

Six sweaty faces turned toward them. Becki glanced around the space, quickly identifying the entire Lifeline team.

Erin sat on a bench, a pair of dumbbells resting on her thighs. Anders uncurled himself from the sit-up bench beside her. Tripp leaned on a wall, his chest rocking as he breathed heavily. Devon rolled over and pushed himself to vertical, his shirtless chest shining with a slick of sweat. “So nice of you to return, oh mighty overlord.”

A loud buzzer went off, and Alisha stomped over the floor to hit a switch on the wall. She sagged cross-legged to the floor. “I don’t know, Devon, that wasn’t so bad.”

The way she allowed herself to collapse to her back in a messy heap made the words an obvious lie.

“You’ll live. I brought cinnamon rolls. Who wants one?”

Marcus held up an oversized bag that Becki hadn’t noticed before, too caught up in trying to keep the words he’d tossed at her in the door of the shop from filling her brain with sexual ideas.

Damn the man anyway.

“When did your team get here?” she asked.

“Yeah, Marcus, what time did you get us up? Bet you’ll never confess what a truly evil, creative person you are.” A new man, thinner but wiry with muscle, made his way forward to hold out a hand to her. “Oops. Hang on.” He wiped his fingers on his towel before starting over. “Xavier. Welcome to hell.”

She shook his hand, still trying to figure out what was going on. “You guys were working out while we were having breakfast?”

Loud groans echoed back.

Marcus scratched his neck. “You had to mention that out loud?”

Tripp had taken possession of the paper bag. “Oh, we figured you were lazing somewhere. One phone call, and we’re doing endless loops in the gym while you’re taking it easy and sucking back coffee. Nice. About what we expected.”

“You look like zombies,” Marcus offered. He paced over to where Alisha still lay on the floor. He leaned over her, head tilting to the side as he examined her. “Shall I bury you?”

“Please. Somewhere cool.”

He laughed and held out his hand. Dragged her to her feet and patted her on the back, sending her toward where the others were gathering.

The smell in the air was now something between sweat and cinnamon. Becki grinned as the group took over the bag and demolished the contents in short order. She sat next to Alisha and watched as the young woman licked her fingers clean.

“I’m not even going to apologize for scarfing that down like an animal,” Alisha said.

“Hey, no apologies needed. I know what it’s like. I trained here as well, and while it looks as if Marcus is a little more . . . creative than some of my instructors, I know what it’s like to be ravenous after a workout.”

“Creative?” Erin gasped. “That’s too mild. Try bloody possessed.”

Becki checked out the pilot, surprised at the passion behind the words but not willing to make a scene.

Marcus laid a hand on Erin’s shoulder. “You needed a little unsettling. Think it worked?”

“Bastard.”

He laughed. “There, there, you can go home and sleep. After you finish the problems I’ve left you.”

Erin’s curses trailed from her lips the entire time she stomped across the floor toward where a small desk waited.

Marcus turned to Becki. “Fuel calculations for a dozen different scenarios. Estimating flight time and air capabilities.”

Sound logic. Making the pilot have to complete the challenge after a hard workout proved to both of them she could do the same in tough conditions. Becki approved, even though it was a harsh training technique.

She turned to Alisha. “What time did you get here?”

Alisha had her eyes closed as she leaned over her outstretched legs. “Get here to the gym, or what time did Mr. Diabolical get us out of bed? Because the phone rang at oh three hundred.”

Oh God. “Really?” Becki looked around at the group with a lot more understanding. “You’ve been up since three A.M.?”

Devon flashed her a tired grin. “Never went to bed. Tripp and I were still at the bar.”

Becki caught Marcus’s expression before he managed to get it under control. She stepped to his side and spoke quietly. “You are evil, aren’t you?”

He shrugged. “They’re getting paid to stay sharp. Sometimes it hurts when you put steel to the iron to sharpen it.”

He clapped his hands together. “Okay, break’s over. One last task for each of you, then you’re free until tomorrow.”

“What time?” Xavier asked. “Not that I’m suspicious now, or anything.”

“Seven A.M. for you, Tripp, Devon, and Alisha. Anders and Erin will be working at the field all day.”

Xavier nodded wearily. “What’s our final portion of poison?”

“Hit the pool,” Marcus ordered. “Sixteen hundred meters free, then eight hundred of your most hated—kick or pull. And stretch after.”

Devon smacked Xavier on the shoulder, and together with Tripp they headed toward the men’s change room, grumbling good-naturedly between themselves.

Alisha stood before them, clutching the towel draped around her neck. “Marcus—permission to do wall repeats instead? I’d like to make the upper body work as specific as possible.”

Marcus considered for a moment. “Fine. Use the auto-belayer. Down climb as well as up, got it?”

She nodded, twisting her face into a grimace. “Umm, Becki? You mind if I take a rain check on that climb together? I have a feeling I’ll have noodle arms before this is over.”

“No problem. There’s plenty of time.”

Marcus stepped closer as Alisha buckled on her climbing harness. “Becki is going to give you guys some training over the next while. What do you think?”

The young woman’s face lit up. “Really? Oh God, that is awesome. That makes up for having to ride in the back of an open pickup this morning.”

Becki couldn’t stop a burst of laughter from escaping. “What?”

Alisha stepped to the wall. “Didn’t he tell you? Calls at three, picks us up ten minutes later to take us to pack gear. Only he didn’t take us straight there, he drove us down the TransCanada for an hour before pulling into the hangar and making us prep in the dark.”

Becki stared at Marcus, not sure if she was ready for his methods.

“Don’t look at me like that. It can be cold in the back of the chopper flying to a drop site. They need to be ready.”

She couldn’t argue. “You are inspired, they’ve got to give you that much.”

Alisha tightened the locking carabiner on the rope. “He’d better not let any of us buy him coffee for a few days, because he’s not the only inspired one in the lot.”

Marcus snorted.

She placed her hands on the wall. “Ready, boss.”

“Get going.”

Becki straightened her spine as all his attention turned her way. She had to concentrate on the job, which meant tearing her gaze off Marcus and putting it back on the woman slipping smoothly up the wall. Becki analyzed Alisha’s choice of handholds, looking for areas to improve.

Alisha was damn good. It was still a training exercise, so she didn’t take the easiest path, yet she didn’t waver in her selections, either. Steady. Sure. Reach, weight transfer. Reach, extension. After five minutes it was pretty clear there was a reason this woman was Marcus’s lead hand.

“I’m going to be hard-pressed to improve her skills.” Becki spoke quietly, but she knew Marcus heard. He was right there, analyzing alongside her. The heat of his body brushing hers.

“I told you, I hire the best.” He laid his hand on her shoulder. The weight of it made something inside her tremble. She locked her legs tight to stop the instant impulse to go to her knees.

“Take my cock out and suck me.” He slipped his hand off, threading his fingers through her hair and tugging lightly. “I want to feel your lips around me. Want to see you open that sweet mouth and surround me until I can’t take another second. Blow my mind, Becki. Show me what you can do.”

She swallowed hard, lifting her arms to fold them in front of her. Defense against her urges, a way to hide how quickly her body reacted to the merest whisper of a memory.

“Why don’t you belt up? I’ll belay you,” Marcus offered.

Becki cleared her throat, keeping her gaze on Alisha’s careful descent. “If you want, I can belay you.”

“Didn’t bring the right attachment.” Marcus stepped to the side, his hand casually stroking her arm and causing more knee-jerk reactions in her core. “I have the claw. I can belay.”

Anything to get her blood pumping for some reason other than standing too close to him. She nodded and went for her gym bag. By the time she was hooked up, Marcus had returned, his prosthesis strapped in place.

Remembering his words from earlier—that it was better to simply look than steal peeks—she walked right up, stopping in front of him.

“You want to show me how that works?”

“Like an arm.”

Jeez. Fine, if he wanted to be like that. “Yeah, because I have metal pinchers at the ends of both my limbs. Come on, Marcus.”

He laughed and lifted his elbow in front of her, forearm held parallel to her face. She caught hold of his bicep and followed the strapping that looped over his shoulder with her fingers. “High-tensile webbing?”

“Strong as what you’ve got in your harness. Double loop system, so if one fails there’s time to bail before the second gives. Bar a freak accident where both straps get cut simultaneously, the system is bombproof.”

She’d reversed her exploration already, passing over his elbow and examining the actual prosthesis. “Does it hurt? When you use the—what did you call it? Claw?”

“Sometimes there’s a kind of achy pressure. Phantom pain gets me more often, or plain old soreness from the stump in the socket. I fell once and bruised it hard, but no worse than any fall I’d taken previously. Like spraining a wrist or bruising the ball of your palm—hurts like a bitch.” Marcus pulled his arm back slightly before closing the dual metal fingers at the end around her wrist. “It took time to learn control, but I can handle rope. If you want, we can double-rope you, put you on a backup—”

“Don’t be stupid.” It was her turn to be indignant. “You said I was nuts to think I’d lost skills. If you say you’re competent, I trust you.”

She grabbed a top rope, tossing one end at him, and focused on getting her figure-eight knot completed.

Alisha hit the ground, ten feet down the wall from them. Her ponytail had worked loose, strands of hair hanging in front of her eyes. “Done.”

“Five more,” Marcus ordered.

“Oh God, really?”

“Should have taken the pool option if you want to argue.”

Alisha flashed him her middle finger but started up again. Her forearms trembled as she moved slower than before.

Becki waited until Alisha was out of earshot. “The team will do anything for you.”

“And I will do anything to keep them at the top of their game. It’s people’s lives at stake, Becki. You know it.”

His soft-spoken words seemed such a contrast to the firm persona he’d shown the others that she had to turn to see what had caused the change.

He raised a brow. “What?”

Oblivious. Fine, she wouldn’t bother now, but if he wanted to train with her? There might be more lessons coming than he expected.

Becki crackled her knuckles, shook out her fingers, and put her hands to the wall. “On belay?”

“Belay on.”

She placed a toe on a tiny sloper and took a step. Fingers tight around one hold, torso stretching as she reached upward. Behind her Marcus handled the ropes smoothly, no pressure tugging at her waist belt. Climbing with a competent partner was always so much more enjoyable.

She tilted her head back to examine the route . . .

The wind whipped around her, batting the hoodie against her head, pounding the light rain and the cloud cover into her until she was soaking wet. She hung, swinging lightly, something icy cold pressing her back. Becki blinked, squinted to focus, but nothing helped. Visibility remained at zero. She turned to face the wall and planted her feet, a sense of powerlessness rolling over her.

“You ready? Sometime today would be great.”

Dane’s sense of timing was lousy. Not to mention, his sense of humour needed an overhaul. “Bastard,” she muttered.

“I heard that.”

Of course he had. “Bastard with Superman hearing. Good for you.” Her frustration grew. This was why she hadn’t wanted to head in this direction for their descent, only he’d insisted. Now she was caught between one bad situation and another. “Dane, I can’t see a bloody thing. I could be exactly on route, or hanging over a thousand-foot free fall for all I know.”

Dane hesitated, then grudgingly asked, “You want me to go first?”

Yes, as a matter of fact. And I as much as told you that before stepping over the ledge. “You couldn’t have said something fifteen minutes ago? Jerk.”

“Yeah, but I’m your jerk, right?”

He laughed. The sound echoed off the rocks, and she instinctively tightened her grip on the rope. His amusement at her expense wasn’t welcome right now, not after the weekend they’d spent together. The weekend that had fit in perfectly with the painfully selfish way he’d been acting over the past weeks.

Something had changed, and she wasn’t sure she liked where their relationship seemed headed. Still, she pulled herself together and responded as plainly as possible. “Yes, Dane, you’re my jerk.”

Because saying anything else at this moment would be monumentally stupid.

“Bec? Love you.”

She leaned back, staring up the hillside. What was going on? That confession was the last thing she expected to hear. “Dane?”

All hell broke loose . . .