Vivian Arend - High Risk

“Are you saying he committed suicide?”

She nodded as she fought back the tears she’d refused to cry earlier on the trail. “He was so young. And smart. I just don’t understand.”

Silence answered. Marcus shifted position so they were still holding each other, but there was enough distance that she could look him squarely in the face. He examined her cautiously, as if checking to ensure she could handle more.

She fell a little more in love.

He cleared his throat and spoke quietly. “When I got hurt—the accident. It should never have happened.”

“You were out of the country?” He’d never really told her what he did for work back then.

He paused, only for a moment, then let her have it all. “I worked for whoever hired me. Did a couple of military jobs, but those were few and far between. They like their own people in position, but the word got out in some circles that I could climb anything. So I got calls. Ones on the quiet side. Paramilitary, usually.”

This wasn’t what she’d expected. “You were military?”

“No. I was—well, anything they needed, except I never carried a gun. I did actual rescues. I snuck into bedrooms. Sometimes they needed recovery of some object, sometimes a door opened and access gained to a restricted part of a building. I’d climb whatever they pointed me at.”

“Recovery. This is all sounding very James Bond.”

Marcus nodded. “There were a few times I climbed in a tux after leaving a fancy party. Including the day it all went to hell.”

Tension curled around him, and she adjusted position to rub his shoulders. She didn’t understand, but she didn’t want him to stop. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because people make choices, Becki. Not always the ones we’d make in the same situation. I slipped out of the party I’d been planted at and climbed the building until I got in an open window. One of the team was waiting for me, and once I’d turned off the alarm system, he joined me.

“Only the place got bombed. Friendly fire—or at least friendly to us. The military reports had said there wasn’t supposed to be any action until the next day, and that’s why we were in there, gathering information before it all got blown to hell.”

Becki shuddered. “The building blew up on you?”

“Parts collapsed. Most of the partygoers survived—the offices were in a different section of the building. Only we got caught, my teammate and I. Trapped under the rubble.” Marcus stared at the wall. “My hand was crushed. He got pinned under some concrete, his legs mangled under the mess.”

“Oh God, Marcus.” She didn’t like where this was going. “How long were you there?”

“Four days, but it was enough. We tried everything to get free, and nothing worked. We passed in and out of consciousness at times from the pain. And then—” His nostrils flared as he swallowed hard. “He made a choice, Becki. One that I didn’t want to make. He offered to shoot me.”

She bolted upright, shocked. “Why the hell would he offer to do that?”

“Because he figured we were going to die, and he wanted to die on his terms. He gave me the same choice.”

Her stomach rolled, and she was suddenly glad she hadn’t eaten before this conversation.

“I tried. I tried so damn hard to talk him out of it. To persuade him to hang on, that there were options.” Marcus closed his eyes, his face tight with sorrow. “In the end I couldn’t save him.”

“It was wrong. It was the wrong decision.”

Marcus nodded, wrapping his hand around the back of her neck and pulling their foreheads together. “It would have been the wrong decision for me. I chose to fight on. To wait and see what else would happen, and deal with the consequences. I knew my arm would probably be gone, but I didn’t think giving up my hand meant I should give up my life.”

The idea of him not being there tore into her soul. “Marcus, oh God. Your hand doesn’t matter. Not one bit.”

“It still tears into me. That I couldn’t stop him. That’s my nightmare—that’s what torments me.”

She brought their mouths together and kissed him. Needing his touch, the beautiful connection that had built between them to brush away the images in her mind.

Marcus held her tenderly but refused to take the embrace further. He pulled them apart and resorted to stroking her back in the hopes of distracting her. Maybe it hadn’t been the right time to share his story, but when would it be right?

“In the end, we all make our own choices, Becki. Dane made his. Right or wrong, we can only go forward.” Marcus stilled the urge to curse at Dane, though, for taking his own interests into the forefront and not thinking of what his decision would do to Becki.

If he hated Dane for anything, it was for being selfish and hurting someone he’d said he loved.

Becki nodded. She slid her fingers down his shoulder, finishing by holding his forearm. Her clasp growing stronger by the moment. “So . . . where do we go forward to ?”

Marcus wanted to shout an answer—that they’d stay together—but she needed to make her own decisions. Only, like hell would he give up without a fight.

“You have wide open doors again, Becki. Once the reports come back from medical to confirm what you’ve remembered, you can do anything. Teach here, go back to SAR in Yellowstone for the fall.” She stiffened even as he spoke. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. Whatever was wrong, it was killing him. “Becki?”

She glared, all the softness of the previous moment gone. “You trying to get rid of me?”

Wait. “What?”

“You just told me to go back to Yellowstone. Nice.” Becki released him so fast he thought she was going to fall backward off the couch, and he reached out to steady her. “What happened to the offer to work with Lifeline?” she snapped.

“That’s still on the table, but—”

“That’s not what it sounded like. Seemed like you said I’d go one way, and you go the other? Bullshit.”

Maybe he hadn’t gotten enough sleep last night, either. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Becki grabbed him by the front of his shirt. “Back in the cabin you said you needed me. How does that work if I go back to Yellowstone, Marcus? What kind of relationship you looking to have when we’re miles away from each other?”

Laughter burst out of him unchecked, and her eyes went wide with surprise. He hurried to calm her. “You, woman, are one of the most fascinating people I have met in my entire life. The way you jump to conclusions sets records. Listen to me. I didn’t tell you what I was going to do. I asked what you wanted to do.”

“But—” She snapped her lips together and nodded her head once, her rage dampened. “I’m still too wrapped up in layers to be able to deal with anything but straight-up facts.”

“What do you want, sweet Becki?” he soothed, bringing their bodies into contact, the heat between them rising. Her torso relaxed against him as he stroked her back. “Because if you want to work for the school here in Banff, or Lifeline, you can. If you want to go back to Yellowstone like you told Alisha, then you can go. But whatever you decide, I’m not leaving you.”

She released the death grip she had on his shirt, instead pressing her palms to his chest. “You’d come to Yellowstone? But the team . . . Lifeline.”

“I don’t need to be here for the team to continue,” Marcus pointed out. “The squad is important to me, but it’s not who I am. Not anymore. Other things are far more important. Worth changing my life for.”

“Oh, Marcus.” Her hands slipped up to clutch his neck.