Vivian Arend - High Risk

She tugged him after her as she crawled into his bed without caring how it might look, clinging to his hand and refusing to let him go.

Sleep would release him. Until then, she needed to know she wasn’t alone.

Marcus slipped away when her breathing finally relaxed, the fierce tightness in her body fading as the drug took effect and forced her to relax. He moved quickly, wanting to be back if she stirred. Needing to be there.

Damn Ted and all his kind. Marcus snatched up his phone and called his brother.

“You guys okay?” David asked. “Oh, first. Thank you for not killing the man in the middle of the room.”

“It was close,” Marcus admitted. “What’d you find out?”

“Ted contacted someone over in Yellowstone only days after I arranged to hire Becki. He’s been in constant communication—was probably digging for shit to try to make some kind of story when the report came in regarding the discovery of Dane’s body. There’s not even an official write-up yet, for God’s sake.”

“Damn leeches.”

“I know, it’s not news, but it is. The timing sucks, and by tomorrow I expect Yellowstone SAR will have someone making contact with Becki, but it’s a moot point. She’s already sat through one investigation. It’s been closed.”

“What are you saying?”

David sighed. “I looked into the legalities, Marcus. I had to when I asked her to come teach at the school. The criminal investigation was as thorough as it could be, and she was cleared of wrongdoing. Even if she did cut his rope, she won’t be charged.”

“I never thought she would be.”

“Just making sure so you can reassure Becki on that point. Criminal intent is required, or criminal negligence. Neither applies in this case.”

Marcus dragged his hand through his hair. “You’re sounding awfully legal-minded there, bro. But thank you, that’s good to know. Did Ted’s showboating screw up the rest of the event?”

Unexpected laughter rippled from the phone. “Are you kidding? Total solidarity from your team, and I’m buying Alisha the biggest damn bouquet of flowers I can get her. She’s a miracle worker on the podium. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Alisha?” Marcus locked the house and closed all the curtains, speaking softly as he passed the master bedroom. “What did she do?”

“Off the cuff, adjusted her entire presentation and charmed the money from their wallets. Took the idea of team and trust, and how her time at Banff SAR taught her how being part of something that was bigger than yourself meant knowing what to do in life-and-death situations. That saving lives wasn’t an emotional response, but a trained instinct. I should have taken notes on her, but I was too mesmerized by the reaction of the audience. When that girl leaves Lifeline down the road, she’s got a bright future in politics.”

“I’ll make sure she knows you were impressed.” He had stopped in the doorway and stared at Becki’s still form for a moment as David had spoken. The next days were going to be tough, no matter what truths came out. “Thanks for looking into things for me.”

“No problem. And Marcus? Hell of a thing to happen your first foray back into high society, but I have to say it. I was impressed to see you there.”

“Shut up.”

David paused. “Shutting. Except—damn it all, you can shout at me later for being an interfering asshole, but I have to say it. You two are good together. You and Becki.”

Well. That was weird. “Any particular reason you’re sharing this right now?”

“Because it’s important. You’ve changed, even in the past couple of weeks, and the only difference in your life is Becki. So I’m calling it as I see it. Whether it’s her dragging you back or I don’t know the hell what else, I’m glad you two hooked up.”

The urge to snap out some sarcastic response was strangely lacking, mainly because he agreed one hundred percent with David’s assessment. “Thanks for that.”

“Call me if you need anything else.”

Marcus tossed his phone onto the table beside the couch. He debated briefly hitting the liquor cabinet for something to take the edge off his nerves but decided what he really needed was a long warm shot of something else.

He stripped and joined Becki in the bed, wrapping himself like a barrier between her and the world. She shivered, her arm that had escaped the covers cold against his. He threaded their fingers together and lay there waiting for his brain to slow.

The words—the accusation—that Ted had thrown at Becki repeated in his mind. Had Becki cut the rope on her partner?

If she had, did he care?

It was an unanswerable question in a way, because it wasn’t a logical question to ask in the first place. Tying yourself to another person was a signal of ultimate trust. You handed control over to them and believed they’d make the decisions that had to be made.

There were times during rescues he’d worked on when things had gone wrong, but he’d never once doubted that every choice he and his team made were based on reaching the best possible outcome.

Becki had shown herself to be that same kind of person.

She’d been reckless years ago. He liked to imagine that it was partly his hauling her aside way back when she’d been a student that had been the catalyst that set her on a better path.

Now, as David had said, she’d been the catalyst to pull him back from the darkness that he could have easily gotten lost in. From the moment she’d arrived in town he’d felt the difference, as if she’d begun to anchor him by her mere presence. The difference she’d made the other night was undeniable as well.

All he knew for certain was that when it came to climbing, he’d let her control his ropes—let her make the decision if it had to be made to cut the line. On the mountainside he had no doubts at all in her instantaneous decision-making skills.

Yet in their relationship he wasn’t willing to give up that kind of trust. He wasn’t willing to let her cut him free.

The contrast in thoughts was enough to keep him awake for hours.

The ground swept away before her, the heavy weight of Dane’s body at the other end of the rope dragging her downward. Becki fought for a handhold, scrambling backward crablike. Heels digging in, fighting for purchase. She caught a boot against a firm protrusion and leaned back to stop her momentum. Her harness lifted her hips from the ground as the rope insistently tugged her toward the cliff edge.

She would have sworn, would have called for help. Would have begged if there were the slightest possibility anyone could hear her.

The root beneath her foot wiggled. The stump crumbled, the soil around the rotting wood coming free. Becki kicked her other heel into the hillside, trying to form a divot, desperate to hollow out a place to hold herself steady.

The rope groaned, twisting with the weight on the other end. She was losing the battle. Another rock worked loose, the wind howling past her and forcing her to turn her head to the side. The scent of fresh earth and loose rock dust mingled together and filled her nostrils. She peeked longingly at the trees behind her, so close and yet totally out of reach.

Her vision blurred as she fought to focus. Looking ahead for anything that would provide an anchor for a safety loop.

Nothing. An inch at a time she lost ground. She’d slowed her approach to the cliff edge, but it looked inevitable. It wasn’t a matter of if, but when.

She was going to be dragged over the edge by the weight of her partner.

Becki scrambled at her leg pocket, bruised and battered fingers protesting as she tore up the Velcro and yanked out her knife. She’d lost little bits of fingernails on her right hand, and sharp pains stabbed her as she frantically pressed the safety catch to release the protective covering. The casing fell away to expose the serrated knife edge. Becki longed for a nice fixed blade, something with an extended reach and more than a three-inch cutting surface. She slipped her forefinger into the holding loop and stabbed at the ground behind her, working to find a spot firm enough to allow her to Just. Stop. Sliding.