Vivian Arend - High Risk

“Why didn’t anyone—oh hell, okay. Dane.” He nodded slowly. “You can’t remember the accident.”

“No. And it’s . . .” Shoot, she refused to break down again. Becki took a quick breath, the sticky sweetness in the air soured now by having to share this. She fought for control. “I was cleared of negligence. The reports the girls gave confirmed that while I was competent enough to get them out of the mess they were in, I didn’t talk to them normally. I rescued them like I was on autopilot. That was their term for it.”

Marcus leaned back and made room for the plates being lowered in front of them. Coffee, bagels. He stirred sugar into her cup and pushed it across the table. She snatched it up, the heat of the mug warming her cold fingers. She’d already taken a swallow before she realized he’d remembered how she drank her coffee.

“Why do I need to know this before I hire you? Does David know?”

Becki paused. “David doesn’t know yet. I was planning on telling him, but to be honest? The position he hired me for requires no direct contact with the students. I’d be working through the instructors. If there were any questions of my abilities, having that—”

“Good God, you think anyone is going to question your competence?” Marcus snapped. “If anything, this proves your skills are impeccable. Even half out of your mind, you still rescued the girls.”

She snorted. “Half out of my mind is the problem, Marcus. I don’t know what happened, and it’s more than a frustration. I’m serious. Maybe I am strong enough at what I do to kick into automatic when presented with an emergency situation. Just because it happened once, I don’t dare trust it will automatically happen again. You need to know.”

“Because you’ll be dealing directly with the team?”

“Yes.” She lifted her cup and drank deeply, hiding behind the fragile ceramic. Funny how much she suddenly wanted this job. Wanted to be able to work with the crew. “What happens if I’m on the end of a rope belaying Alisha and something goes wrong?”

“But you were planning on climbing with her today. . . .”

Implying she’d already made one bad decision? Becki searched Marcus’s face, but he was doing his imitation of a stone wall. Impossible to tell what he was thinking.

“Yes. Because the room is full of auto-belayers. I thought I could easily get around having to rope up with her.”

He took another bite of his bagel, pointing toward her breakfast. “Eat.”

Damn man. She added jam and ignored him for a minute. Maybe he needed time to process what she’d shared. Heaven knew she’d have to think for a bit in his circumstance.

They finished their food quickly, the last dredges of her coffee cold as she swallowed the crumbs. Still waiting for him to talk.

She wasn’t expecting him to reach over the table and catch hold of her hand.

“I have no problem with you working the team. It’s your expertise and experience they look up to. And your situation, if you’re willing to share, can be both a warning and an inspiration.”

He was right—she had to tell the team so they knew the risks as well. “I kept it out of the media. Secrecy was a hard slog to achieve, but if you think I can trust your team, I’m willing.”

Even saying the words had tension filling her belly. The climbing community was like family. Which meant for every person who would support and be there for her, another would step forward and willingly rake her over the coals. Revile her, because the assumption had to be that she killed her partner.

No one knew how to hurt quite like family did.

He was still holding her hand, his fingers curled protectively around hers. “You can trust them. You can trust me.”

Becki nodded.

He squeezed tighter before releasing her, shifting back in his seat. The unreadable expression was gone, revealing something close to embarrassment. “I have a favour to ask.”

This time she waited.

He twisted a grin at her. “I want to train with you as well.”

Oh really. “With the team?”

Marcus coughed into his fist and gazed at the ceiling for a moment. God, was this stupidly awkward. “No. Yes, maybe later.” He shook his head and laughed, an ironic deprecating laugh. “I climbed after the accident. Got a couple attachments adapted for the prosthetic, but I’ve gotten out of the habit.”

Her eyes went wide for a moment before she nodded. “Okay. We can do some time together. If you’re sure—”

“Stop it already with the warning. I’m not deaf, and you’re not dangerous.”

“Denying the possibility is irresponsible,” she snapped, “but that wasn’t what I was going to say.”

Her indignation made her face brighten with heat. He liked how she looked all riled up. “Sorry. Go on.”

Becki grabbed her coat from behind her as she rose to her feet. “Just wanted to warn you that I won’t go easy on you. You sure you can handle it?”

Nice. The images of handling Becki probably weren’t the ones she was thinking of, but they’d get there eventually. His goal of getting her back into his bed had to start somewhere, and having ropes involved?

He was totally okay with that.

They were at the door of the shop, where she’d managed to nab the door ahead of him, pulling it open and standing waiting for him to pass through. He paused as he stepped next to her, close enough he didn’t have to speak loudly to respond.

“I look forward to handling anything you want to send my way.”

Her cheeks were already flushing before he turned and headed to the truck.

She didn’t say anything when she joined him, just made a show of examining the shops along Banff Avenue before he turned up the hill to head to the school. Hiding her face from him.

Marcus bit back his grin and whistled all the way to the gym.

She grabbed her bag from the backseat. “Thanks for breakfast. When do you want to get together to discuss things in more detail?”

“Tonight?”

Becki bit her bottom lip briefly. “What about this afternoon?”

He shrugged, getting out and heading around to her side of the vehicle. “Either is fine.”

She frowned as he stood waiting for her. “What are you doing?”

“You’re meeting Alisha, right? At ten?”

She nodded.

“I still have time, then. Come on.”

Her hesitation to enter the gym made him wonder what exactly she thought they were going to do.

“Holy cow.”

Marcus pulled the door shut and pulled the bag he’d brought along with him from under his arm. “Okay guys, you can stop.”

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?”