Vivian Arend - High Passion

With his eyes squeezed shut, there was nothing to see but the ghostly echoes of their headlamps. Alisha shifted position, and he caught her harness. One of his feet slipped from the ledge for a second before he jerked himself back into position. Small rocks crashed into them, carried by the current, but the swell of pressure had already lessened. He ignored the buzzing sensation in his lungs that had begun to call for air, instead concentrating on Alisha, on keeping them both safe.

Once the first wave was past, the water rapidly dropped, filling the crevices and cracks at their feet. As their heads broke the surface, he and Alisha gasped for air. Devon loosened one hand from the ropes, wiping his mouth and spitting out dirt-filled water as he glanced up to check the sky and their route to freedom.

Another fifteen seconds passed, maybe twenty, and the water continued to ease off, finding its level as water always does. He was thankful to discover that the water was around waist level.

“A bath was not on the agenda for today,” he joked, reaching to undo the first of the ropes binding them in place.

No answer.

Devon snapped his attention downward to discover that Alisha’s face had gone ghostly white. Her eyes were squeezed close and her lips pressed into a thin line.

“You okay?” he asked.

The roar of the water was still loud enough to prevent voices from traveling from the surface, but he was close enough to Alisha that when a low whimper escaped her, he heard. Her body jerked hard enough to rock them both, a seemingly involuntary motion.

Fear was an ice-cold blade at his throat, more frigid than the water numbing his limbs. “Dammit, Alisha, are you hurt? Did you get hit?”

He edged away to examine her, to see if one of the rocks that had grazed him had slammed her harder and caused an injury.

His attempt to adjust position was thwarted by increased pressure on his harness straps. Her fists clenched tighter as she once more hid her face against his chest.

What the hell was going on?

He calmed himself even though he wanted to shout. Years of training forced him to offer reassurances instead of panicking along with the elephant tangoing in his belly. “Alisha, I need to check you. You’ve got to let go.”

“No.”

The word burst from her, high-pitched and totally not typical Alisha.

His heart rate, which had begun to drop along with the water level, raced back up.

The water continued to disappear, falling to midthigh. The current pushing against them had slowed enough that he could stand without needing to brace himself to remain vertical. Devon caught Alisha by the forearms and, though he hated to do it, used his superior strength to break her hold. He ducked down and caught her chin in his fingers, lifting until he could look her in the eye.

“Alisha. Tell me what’s wrong.”

She continued to shake, pupils dilated as she stared into the darkness past him.

She’d gone into shock. Devon slapped at his chest to turn on his microphone connection to Anders. “I need a rope lowered now. Alisha’s—”

Her hand shot forward and slammed the button, effectively cutting him off.

“No.” The word was barely audible, but she repeated it again and again, getting louder as her lashes fluttered hard. Her eyes focused on his as the tremors shaking her body slowed. “Don’t tell them.”

“What the hell is going on?” Devon demanded. “You’re hurt, or in shock.”

She grew stronger even as he spoke, pulling herself upright. Her feet splashed in the now ankle-deep water as she attempted to move away. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”

His speaker crackled. “Devon? Alisha’s what ? You got a problem down there?”

Devon reached to answer, but Alisha blocked him again, her hand cupped over his transmitter to stop him from engaging the on button.

At least her reflexes were back up to speed. “Alisha, do we have a problem?”

She stared at him with begging in her eyes. “No. No problem. Don’t say anything. Please.”

That she was coherent enough to ask was the only reason he hesitated. Did he give her a break, at least for now? It was all kinds of wrong, but this was Alisha , dammit, and it seemed he had no brains when it came to her. He nodded once, and she reluctantly slipped her hand away.

Devon clicked the on button. Paused. Then did the only thing he could do under the circumstances.

“Alisha’s . . . mic isn’t working.” The lie fell from his lips, leaving behind a dirtier taste than the deluge that had blasted them. With one sentence he’d as good as stepped into the void. “Send the rope down. We’re soaking wet—a little help hauling our asses up would be appreciated if anyone has extra hands.”

The entire time he spoke, Alisha kept her gaze fixed on him, wordlessly pleading.

He was going to be in so much shit for passing this situation off if something was really wrong with her.

Anders’s instant response fell from above. “Affirmative. Look sharp.”

A rope snaked down the rock wall, a narrow beam of light highlighting its descent.

Devon ignored the rope, focusing on a far more important target. Alisha had switched her attention away, intent on the wall and removing the gear they’d set in place. She unlatched cams and linked carabiners onto her waist clips as if her soul depended on it.

He caught her by the wrist and forced her to stop. “Look at me.”

She twisted in slow motion, lifting her chin high. He ran a hand over her cheek, noting with approval that her skin had warmed, a deep crimson flush marking her cheeks. He checked the response of her pupils to his headlamp. All her physical responses were back to normal, but her eyes were haunted. He let out his frustrations in a long sigh, the sound mixing with the continuing gurgle of water past their feet.

Alisha caught his arm.

“Thank you.” The words came out ragged and rough, as if she’d been screaming for hours.

It wasn’t enough. After all the high-test emotions of the past minutes, anger rushed in and replaced them all. “This isn’t over. I won’t say anything now, but once we’re home, we’re going to talk about this more. Understood? Or I will question you in front of the team.”

The hurt and betrayal in her eyes at his final words nearly killed him, slicing to the core, but she nodded her understanding.

Needed distraction came from the thump of the rope end landing beside them. Devon watched her tie up, stepping in to examine her knots.

“Stop fussing, Devon,” she snapped. “I can climb. I’m fine.”

“Arguing with me right now is not an option,” he retorted. “Deal with it.”

Alisha snapped her mouth shut, hanging on to the rope and glaring as he double-checked her harness bindings. Soaking wet. Freezing cold. Pissed off as all get-out, and worried like crazy, he shouldn’t have been so damn aware of her curves as he tried not to touch anything other than her ropes and harnesses.

When he stepped back, she jerked her chin up. “Happy?”

“Not remotely.”

She hit his microphone button. “Anders, on belay.”

“Hey, girl. Belay on. Got your high-speed elevator ride all ready for you.”

She twisted away, but not before Devon saw the moisture in her eyes. She rose rapidly, walking her way up the wall as the team lifted her from the depths.

Devon waited for the rope to make its return descent. Plenty of time for guilt to pour in as hard as the water had earlier. Alisha’s behavior wasn’t something he should have ignored or brushed off. She’d reacted in an unexpected manner. What if it happened again, at an even more risky moment? She’d be a danger to both herself and the team, not to mention the people they might be rescuing.