Vivian Arend - High Passion

They were left in pitch black.

A pain-filled groan rose, and Alisha slipped forward using the walls as a guide. “Devon?”

Soft hands touched his face a moment before her strong arms helped him to his feet again.

“You’re crazy,” Alisha whispered. “You’ve been shot. You shouldn’t be walking, let alone fighting.”

“And leave you to him? Fuck that.” Devon leaned harder on the wall behind him. He took the headlamp he’d found in her abandoned backpack from his pocket, where he’d put it before leaping from the shadows. He pressed it into her hands. She twisted it on, and suddenly he could see every inch of her beautiful, worried face. “I couldn’t leave you. Thank you for figuring out what I was talking about, because I wouldn’t have been able to jump him otherwise.”

“He can’t get out.” Alisha gestured down the passage ahead of them. “He’s got nowhere to finish except up against the base of the first descent. If Lana is there with a rope for him to escape, Erin will stop them, and either way, the RCMP should be here soon. We’re safe.”

Devon tested his leg. The pain he’d ignored while tracking after Vincent and Alisha into the tunnels had lessened, probably because he was going numb. “Lana isn’t on his side, at least not fully.”

Alisha wrapped her arms around him and squeezed tight. “I was so scared I’d lost you.”

God. “Me, too. I never want that to happen again.”

“I knew better than to go to his suite by myself. Why didn’t you?” Alisha complained.

Devon smiled sheepishly. “What was he going to do? Knock me out, drag me to some cave, then try to kill me?”

“Don’t joke.”

“Hold it right there.” Blindingly bright lights hit them, and both Devon and Alisha turned their faces away and covered their eyes. “RCMP.”

Devon waved a hand toward the ground. “Lower the lights. We’re the good guys.”

“Opinions vary on that.” A deep chuckle followed as the lights shifted to the sidewalls, making it simpler to see the team of three who crowded the passageway. Their faces were familiar—men with whom Devon and Alisha had played poker during different social gatherings in the past. One of them smirked as he stepped forward. “Devon. What’s this I hear about you being kidnapped?”

God, he was never going to live this one down. “Hey, James.” Devon switched footing and grimaced as pain shot up his spine. “It was all a ploy. You need to go farther in to catch your man.”

Alisha tilted her head deeper into the mountain. “You know the route? Vincent’s no longer armed, and he should be trapped at the headwall.”

One of the other constables nodded. “We’ll take care of it.” Two of the team rushed past. Alisha called after them, “There’s another woman at the top who might have a rope to help him, but our pilot is up there watching.”

James knelt to check Devon. “We already talked to Erin, and we have a team at that entrance as well. Damn, Devon, you got yourself shot.”

“Really?” Devon wanted to say something smart-assed and quick-witted, but he was having a tough time concentrating now that his adrenaline rush was fading. “Nah, this is how tough we are on Lifeline. We enjoy making rescues more challenging by first opening a vein.”

James snorted, standing and patting Devon on the back. “Okay, tough guy, if you insist. You’ll live long enough to hobble to the exit. I’m going to give the guys backup. You okay?”

Devon nodded.

“Wait,” Alisha interrupted. “Before you go. Vincent’s gun.”

She disappeared down the passage for a moment before returning, holding it as if it were a rotting carcass. James took possession before vanishing, the stillness of the cavern returning as his footfalls faded.

A slow trickle of water played in the background, muted voices in the far distance, but mainly the sound of their breathing and the strange noises created by being amplified underground.

He still held Alisha’s hand. Her fingers were cool in his, wet and dirty. Both of them were filthy from the mud and water covering everything. When he turned her, though, she went willingly enough, pressing against him and lifting her lips to his.

Pain that laced through his body faded at the sweetness of her kiss. The brush of her tongue, the clasp of her arms around his shoulders—he could have lost this, and the idea shook him.

Then the truth rushed in.

They could have lost each other, but they hadn’t. They’d done what they had to do, both of them, and now they could move forward.

Together.

They clung to each other for another moment before pulling apart. Devon caught her under the chin, the streaks of dirt and wet mud smeared on them forgotten as he looked into her eyes. “I love you, Alisha Bailey. Thank you for saving my life.”

She went teary-eyed before smiling back, the dim lantern light making them look as if they’d been painted up to play war games. “I love you, Devon. Thanks for saving mine.”

This time he was the one lying on the stiff white sheets of the hospital bed as Alisha parted the privacy curtains. Her smile broke over him like sunshine.

It was nearly five hours since Vincent had gone off the deep end. Under protest, Devon had been taken straight to the Banff hospital by Erin in the chopper while Alisha stuck around to accompany the RCMP. It got him medical attention a whole lot faster—he understood the reasoning, but he hated like hell that they’d been separated.

Now that he’d been poked and prodded and his wound wrapped up, he wanted nothing more than to be reunited with her and get the rest of the story. Seeing her just affirmed all over how much the rest of the story had to involve the two of them together.

“You clean up pretty good,” he teased, keeping it a whole lot more lighthearted than he wanted to. “Tell me you’ve come to rescue me.”

“Rescue you? I’m saving the staff. The nurses inform me you’re a shitty patient, and requested I please haul your ass out of here as soon as possible.” She stepped beside the bed and leaned in to kiss him.

He caught her around the waist and tugged her onto the bed, ignoring her protests and concentrating on kissing her senseless. She softened in his arms, her torso pressed tight to his, and he groaned softly, wanting nothing better than to take her home and prove all over again how much he wanted her.

How much he needed her.

She caressed his cheek, her lips against his breaking into a smile. “We should save this for later. Marcus called us all to HQ, if you’re feeling up for it.”

Devon sighed. “There goes the ten-kilometer hike I was going to suggest. Damn, that man ruins all our fun.” His brother’s familiar ring tone sounded, and Devon glanced at Alisha in surprise. “Do you have my phone in your pocket?”

She rolled off the bed. “Lana had your phone, so the police have it now. That’s my phone. I added Mark to my address book and figured your musical salute was as good as any . . . I called him while you were in surgery.” Devon growled, and she tossed him a dirty look even as she handed over the phone. “They’re your family, and they deserved to know.”

He tapped to answer the call, still giving Alisha the evil eye. “Mark?”

“Devon, oh God, are you okay?”

He couldn’t resist. “You caught me on the surgery table. You want prime rib or rump roast?”

To his surprise he didn’t get an instant lecture to grow up. Instead, Mark laughed with relief. “So good to hear you joking around. I’m glad to hear you made it through with only minor injuries. We’re all glad—the whole family. Didn’t want to keep you from your rest or anything, so I said I’d call on behalf of everyone.”