Vivian Arend - High Risk

The minute the phone had gone off, Marcus had snapped into prepared mode. No one that keen to get in touch with them could possibly have a good reason. Out of all the possible people who could have phoned, though, her brother wasn’t even on the radar. Now they had a situation going from bad to worse fast.

Because she was right. If she knew the climbing area, she had to go along—a guide would get his team there as quickly as possible. They could do the rescue without her, but if one of the climbers was hurt, time counted.

He stopped her for a moment, though, hand resting on her shoulder. “You can do this. I know you can.”

Her face was still far paler than it should be, but she nodded. “I have no choice.”

“Get dressed. I’ll contact the team and check their ETA. Did you bring your harness?”

“Full gear. We were going to train, remember?” Becki glanced out the window, and her entire body quaked. “What if . . .”

“No ‘what if.’ You will do this. You are capable,” Marcus insisted.

She shook her head. “I don’t care if I get sick in the chopper. What if I freeze, though? What if I black out and end up doing something that endangers my brother, or your team?” Becki caught him by the arms, her fingers going white as she clutched him tight. “Please. Come with me. I . . . I need you.”

As if he had ever intended to do anything else. Marcus dragged her against him and hugged her tightly. “I’ll be there.”

They met for a brief, desperate kiss before splitting apart and heading into their separate preparations. Marcus pulled on his prosthesis, going for the claw end—chances were the first thing they’d be doing would be going down, not up.

Fifteen minutes and he was dressed, call through to his team.

Erin answered. “Roger base. You ready for a splash and dash?”

“As ready as we can be. Who’s on board?”

“Nearly full crew. We’re missing Tripp.”

Winch and paramedic, though, two less things to worry about. “What’s the airspace look like on the satellite?”

“Choices are a kilometer up or three more on level. We’ll do a flyby, but that’s my best guess.”

Becki was back at his side, pulling her coat over her long-sleeved shirt. Marcus flipped the phone to speaker. “Becki and I are on the line—we’ll wait for pickup and discuss the rest on approach. Any questions right now?”

“It’s Devon. No questions, but hey, Becki? It’ll be okay. I met your bro a couple of nights ago. He’s a great kid. Good head on his shoulders. We’ll get him out.”

She had her fingers over her mouth, nodding slowly as she pulled them away. “Thanks for that. Over and out.”

The radio went silent and she blinked hard, reaching for her pack that lay on the floor. Silently, as a team they gathered the rest of their things from the truck before walking a few meters down the road to the clearing in the trees. They turned to face the mountains.

He grabbed her hand with his. She didn’t change her focus, but she held on, wrapping her fingers around his tightly.

“Give me the rundown,” Becki breathed out slowly. “I’ll have to lead on the ground once we hit the maze, but keep your team consistent until then.”

“I’m along for the ride. I won’t be in charge. Anders calls the shots in the bay.” A faint rumble in the air warned that the chopper was approaching. “We’ll see who’s calling ground when we crawl in. Tripp usually does, and since he’s not there, it’s a potshot. They’re all qualified.”

“They’re the best,” she stated firmly.

“They are, and so are you.”

She nodded, concentration focused forward.

Time slipped into that eerie blend between going far too quick and far too slow that was so common during a rescue.

The chopper was down, wind batting them as they ran with heads lowered across the field to the door. Hands reached to pull them in, Becki first, Marcus caught up behind. Both of them settled into the nearest seats. They hadn’t even buckled in before Erin lifted off.

Becki fought with the top snap, all her concentration on the webbing. Ignoring the air passing the windows as the helicopter tilted, Erin pivoted tight to head over the Kananaskis Range into the second ridge of mountains and their destination.

Marcus checked his team. Alert faces stared back, waiting in expectation. He tugged on his headset, then paused until Becki had done the same.

“Good job. Ready for this?”

Four heads nodded. Becki’s jaw was locked firmly shut as she stared at the floor. He ignored her for the moment. Everyone’s coping strategies were different, and he wasn’t about to tell her to try something new. Not when she was clinging to her control.

Devon clicked on. “Erin said she’d fly by the Needles, but with the cloud cover, chances are we’ll be coming in from the north or the east. I vote for the north—it’s a shorter land approach, only it calls for a long rappel to the trails. Becki, any idea where in the maze they might be?”

“If they went to where I brought Colin before, yes. About twenty minutes from the entrance to the canyon. Three short climbs—none more technical than a 5.7—will get us to the main wall.”

“We can do those in our sleep,” Xavier offered. “I want to know which way we’re coming out. Any way to send someone on a climb and get a drop line from Erin to avoid the long haul with a stretcher?”

Becki shook her head, then squeezed her eyes shut as the chopper wiggled in the changing air currents. Marcus held his breath for her, but she managed to pull herself back under control. “In and out, the only possibility unless the clouds clear.”

Marcus cut in. “Colin’s got a phone. We can call him as we get into the canyon to get him making noise. He’ll have a whistle or something, right, Becki?”

“If he doesn’t, I’m going to kick his ass once we find it.”

Grins appeared around him, tension settling into that peak range for an operation. Too much adrenaline and things went to hell fast. It was impossible to maintain a high for hours, especially when they needed to do the actual grunt work to get in and out.

Marcus checked his team one by one as the buzz over the headset went back to random discussion, just keeping loose as they moved closer to the drop point. He saved Becki for the last, even though he was completely aware of her the entire time.

She was staring past him wearing a do-or-die expression. Her lips moved, only he missed the words. He switched to channel two and her voice cut in.

“. . . trust your team. Give one hundred percent. Be patient until it’s time to move, then move decisively. Trust your team. . . .”

She was repeating it like a mantra.

He nodded and flipped his speaker on. “One hundred percent. Give it all you’ve got and even a little more.”

Her focus changed off the wall and onto his face, and a tentative smile appeared. Her expression was still serious, still scared, but there was something extra she gave just for him. “Thank you. For everything.”

They were surrounded by his team, dropping toward a rescue, and all he could think about was her. “Together. We’ll do it together.”

What he wanted to say was he never intended to let her go.

A trickle of sweat ran between her breasts as Becki strode after Devon. The weight of the emergency supplies on her back was familiar, and the burn of lactic acid in her thighs as well. They’d already dropped into the clouds, and the trail was visible for maybe twenty feet before the thick grey masked everything from them.

Gear rattled behind her—probably Xavier and Anders with the portable stretcher. Ropes and carabiners clicked softly, the occasional heavier gasp for a breath. No one wasted energy talking right now. As socked in as they were, the path forward remained amazingly clear. Well worn, although most people who traveled this section were on their way upward before returning in a loop to their base camps.

Becki focused on her feet as she tried to avoid the wettest sections. She stepped over fallen limbs and the occasional lingering snowdrift. They were at a low enough elevation that the trail was down to mud and rotting leaves instead of the thigh-deep frozen mess they could have been slogging through.

What was Colin thinking, going for a climb so early in the season? Reckless, impulsive, stupid fool.

Kind of like you at that age, her mental voice taunted.

Still, planning to give her brother hell was a good distraction from the next challenge on the way there. The last time she’d been on a rope without freaking, she’d been blindfolded, letting Marcus talk her through the climb. Wasn’t going to happen this time. This time she was on her own.

Only she wasn’t. . . .

Marcus walked behind her. Far enough to avoid the branches that snapped back at him when she brushed past, close enough she knew he was there. Felt his presence. It comforted her in a way that might have bothered her if she didn’t know he wanted only the best for her.

He’d said she was strong, and she was. She’d find the power needed to rescue Colin. When they got this mess of a day done with, she’d be strong for herself and face the media, and whatever else waited ahead.

And then she’d be strong enough to take Marcus up on his offer and see what they could build together. Doors might have closed, but the one that had opened seemed better than what she’d had before.

Devon held up his hand to signal a stop, slipping his pack off and reaching for a rope. “Gear up here. Anders, set your anchor. We’ll drop one at a time.”