Kate Hoffmann - The Mighty Quinns - Malcolm

To say he was knackered was an understatement. But it was the good kind of exhaustion that he only experienced after a successful expedition. His clients had been thrilled with the experience and were grateful he’d led them on a trip without a single serious hitch.

But it was nice to be able to walk around in a light jacket and shorts. It was early April, spring in the northern hemisphere. But in New Zealand, winter was on its way. Still, the weather felt balmy compared to the constant cold of the Arctic.

The offices for Maximum Adrenaline were located in a low-slung white clapboard building just outside the town limits. For a company that specialized in high adventure, the office was rather unremarkable, distinguished from other nearby businesses by just a small sign above the door. A porch spanned the front facade; weathered wooden furniture was scattered along the wide expanse.

As he slammed the hatch on the SUV, the front door opened and the family dog, Duffy, came bounding out, followed by Mal’s younger sister, Dana. “Hey, Duff, look at you. Hey, Dana.”

The black Lab was so excited he wasn’t sure what to do with himself, and when Mal squatted down, Duffy knocked him off his feet. He surrendered to a thorough tongue bath, laughing as the dog pinned him to the ground. When he finally was able to sit up, Duffy had stretched out across his lap, the dog’s subtle way of keeping him in one spot.

“I can’t move,” Mal said to his sister, “or I’d give you a hug.”

“Welcome home,” Dana said. “I expected you tomorrow.”

“I caught an earlier flight. Martin stayed with our gear to get it through customs. God, it’s good to be home.”

Duffy wriggled in his lap, nuzzling his wet nose under Mal’s chin. “Enough, Duff,” he said, struggling to his feet.

“He’s missed you,” Dana said.

“I’m sure he hasn’t thought of me since I left. Considering the way you baby him, you’re the only one he’d truly miss.”

“I’ve been taking him running every day. And he’s actually lost a bit of weight.”

Mal bent down and patted the dog on his flank. “Ugh, don’t talk about exercise. Right now, I need a stiff drink and a shower. And I’m not sure which I’ll have first. Then, I’m heading into town to kick back and get laid. And I’m not sure which will come first.”

It was an unwritten rule in the guiding business that you didn’t bonk the clients, no matter how attractive they might be. He had one job and one job only—to bring his clients home safely. Sex was a distraction from that responsibility, especially in extreme environments. He was also a bit superstitious. You didn’t disrespect the mountain gods.

That didn’t mean the trekkers and climbers didn’t have sex in their own tents, but Mal turned a blind eye and often made excuses when the locals were offended.

So from the time he left until the time he returned, he lived a celibate life. But when he got back to Raglan, Mal knew a handful of girls that were willing to provide a randy bloke with a night or two in bed, no strings attached. Raglan was a surf capital, a beach town with a plethora of pretty girls.

Though Mal and his brothers were considered attractive, there weren’t many women on the North Island who wanted to settle down with a guy who was gone ten months out of the year, no matter how good he was in the sack. Which was just fine by Mal. He’d never been interested in anything long-term. His life was pretty perfect the way it was. And he wasn’t prepared to alter it to make a woman happy—no matter how good she might be in bed.

Besides, he had his family’s business to keep afloat. Any time wasted on a woman was time he could put to better use building their clientele, getting publicity for Maximum Adrenaline and working out new trips to offer.

“Any important messages for me?” Mal asked his sister as he got up.

He strode toward the door, but Dana stayed glued to the spot at the base of the porch steps. Mal turned to motion to her, then saw the pained expression on her face. A sick fear clutched at his gut and he drew a sharp breath. Something was wrong. “What is it? Is it Ryan? Rogan?”

His younger brother was climbing Lhotse in the Himalayas with an Aussie film crew. And Ryan’s twin, Rogan, was in Alaska, doing a prep course for a Denali climb. Either trip had the potential for trouble. And then there were the other hundred or so guides that they employed on various expeditions throughout the year. “Who is it?”

“It’s Dad,” she murmured.

“Dad?” Their father had died twenty years ago this spring, somewhere near the summit of Mt. Everest. Mal had been ten, the twins seven and Dana only five.

His sister nodded, fighting back tears. “They found his body.”

Mal gasped. “When?”

“Three weeks ago. Gary Branbauer’s expedition. The snow cover has been light this year and as they were descending, they noticed a flash of color in the snow. It was him.”

“How do they know?” Mal asked.

“They took a photo and got a GPS bearing. Roger Innis confirmed it was the right location and gear. The news is out and the media has been calling. It’s been crazy.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” He and Dana had been in contact by satellite phone at least four or five times over the past three weeks. And he’d been a simple email away for the past two days.

“I decided to wait until you got home. I haven’t said anything to Ryan and Rogan either, although considering how the news is spreading, they’ll probably both hear about it before I can tell them in person.”

“Mum,” Mal said. “She knows?”

Dana nodded. “She’s a little upset over all the attention. They’ve been calling and wanting to talk to her, but so far she’s refused to comment. She’s coming to stay with me for the weekend.”

The media attention made sense. Maxwell Quinn had been one of the most renowned climbers of his generation and, in the early ’90s, only one of a handful of men who had completed the Seven Summits in less than a year. Max’s partner, Roger Innis, had used the media coverage after Max’s death to his advantage, claiming that Max had died trying to rescue a client. With all the publicity, Outbound Adventure had suddenly become a high-profile guiding company.

But because of a badly written business agreement, Lydie Quinn had been left with virtually nothing. All the business assets went to Innis, and though Max was supposed to have had a life insurance policy through the company, Innis had stopped paying the premiums a few months before the Everest expedition. So Lydie had been forced to sell their little house in Rotorua and move the family back to Auckland, where they’d lived with Mal’s grandparents.

Though they’d moved away from their childhood home, Max Quinn’s sons couldn’t forget his legacy. So they’d started their own adventure guiding business, the name a nod to their father—Maximum Adrenaline. In deference to their mother, they refused to return to Everest, but with only two eight-thousand-foot expeditions on their trip list, it had been hard to compete with Innis’s company.

The family’s relationship with Roger Innis became almost hostile when they became competitors, with Outbound Adventure doing all it could to win the battle for clients and reputation.

But Innis took chances, sometimes putting his clients at risk in order to get them to the top of a mountain. The Quinns were known to err on the side of caution, and for climbers who paid dearly to get to the summit, this was not always a popular choice. Nor was it flashy enough to get them the media coverage they needed to expand their business.

But they were getting it now, weren’t they?

Mal sat down on the front steps and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m not sure what to say.”