High Passion

CHAPTER 12

It was far too early for the phone to ring. Devon blinked through the haze in his vision as his body responded to the call-out from Lifeline faster than his brain. He was on his feet. Pouring himself into his gear, waking up enough to get himself to respond. A glance at his watch showed he’d actually slept in, which he must have needed considering he still felt like hell.

The short trip to the Lifeline building passed in a blur.

“Looks as if we’ve hit stupid season early.” Marcus’s voice carried over the speakers in HQ as they scrambled to gather gear. “Sorry I’m not there, but I got stuck in Calgary last night. I didn’t expect another emergency so soon. Lana will be your contact in the office for any information you need.”

Lana waved at them from behind the call desk, already on the phone with their contact and relaying flight information details to Erin.

“I’m on lead,” Anders called out. “We’ll be fine, Marcus. We’ll keep you posted. Now get off the line and let us do our job.”

“Bastard.” Marcus laughed. “Everyone stay safe and good luck.”

A rush of energy surged as they got ready. Devon paused to pour an extra coffee and set it before Lana, and she flashed him a huge smile without pausing her task.

Teamwork. The smooth coordination flowing around him eased the pre-rescue butterflies that came no matter how many times they did this.

Devon hurried with the rest of them into the chopper. Alisha looked nearly as bleary-eyed as he felt, but otherwise she appeared in complete control. It had been a couple of days since their explosive sexual release, but he hadn’t been in a rush to contact her, and neither, it seemed, had she craved his company. They were back to keeping their distance.

Fine. As long as she was on task right now, he’d deal with the other situation later today.

“At least it’s a decent hour.” Xavier’s nonstop banter arrived as usual. “Daylight will make it easier for the search. Anders? What’s the word?”

“Lana? Want to fill in the gaps?”

“Guide took inexperienced paddlers down the Selkirk River. There’s more than one set of class five rapids and at least two impassable class six falls—and the expected happened. Guide is missing along with one other canoe, so there are four possible victims.” Her voice purred over the headsets, and Devon found himself nodding—having a contact who was easy to listen to was a nice change from Marcus’s far more gravelly tones.

Devon bet she was glad she’d had time to recover from her little drinking session, though.

Lana continued. “The third canoe was found trapped in a logjam. The two who were in her made the call for help. It’s been three days since they started the trip—it took that long for them to find their way out of the bush.”

Anders jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “There’s a local SAR team patrolling the river downstream from where the canoe was found. The valley widens so they can cover the territory pretty easily. We’re heading upstream into the mountains. Erin can manoeuvre through most of the canyon. If she can’t clear a section, we’ll have to drop in to check the territory on foot.”

“Descending on the winch?” Alisha asked.

“If it works.” Anders shook his hand. “We’re talking narrow-gauge canyons in that area.”

He pulled out a map and laid it flat. Devon leaned forward with the rest of them, highly aware of Alisha on his left, her leg next to his as she wiggled to get a better view. She didn’t seem overly stressed about the upcoming rescue.

He focused on the region Anders was highlighting.

“They put in the canoes at this point. Following the river, and with the news from the two that made it out, we know they were fine until this point.” Anders stabbed the map with a finger. “That’s when the group got separated.”

Tripp made a rude noise. “That’s the first set of rapids, and it’s not even technically challenging. Bunch of idiots. What was the guide thinking?”

“If they had problems with those bumps, they’d never have made it through here.” Xavier tapped the map where there was a noticeable change in elevation. “Did they even know how to park the boats to portage around the falls?”

“Good question.” Anders stared into the air as he issued an order. “Lana, find out if the survivors were briefed about portaging. If they were, we’ll have to check the trees more thoroughly.”

“Got it.” Lana jumped on the line, a faint crackle of background noise from the radios in the office carrying with her words. “Weather warnings just rolled in from Environment Canada. Erin, you have high winds coming in ahead of the storm front.”

“Affirmative. Thanks for the heads-up.” Erin spoke over her shoulder on the chopper-only line. “So far the newbie isn’t doing so bad.”

Devon adjusted his collar. High-wind warnings almost guaranteed they would be climbing and going on foot for parts of the rescue. Beside him, Alisha had closed her eyes, hands folded easily in her lap.

The urge to reach over and grasp her fingers flashed out of the blue. It made him wonder.

The travel time passed too quickly. Everyone changed position to look out the windows, eyes peeled for the sight of any kind of civilization. The bright orange marker the local SAR crew had placed at the canoe site glowed like a violent gash in the greens and browns of the local foliage.

“Everyone ready?” Anders asked.

Devon gave his affirmative, his gaze meeting Alisha’s for a moment. She smiled and shot a thumbs-up. Her confidence shone out even while a hint of weariness lingered in her eyes.

Which, hell, he could understand. They’d worked each other over like crazy the other day, not to mention that the previous rescue and flood incident were less than a week ago.

Erin banked the chopper, the angle hard enough that they all scrambled to grab tightly to security straps as they found positions and stared outside.

“Anything more from the survivors? Jacket colours, canoe information?” Tripp pressed his hands to the glass as he leaned into the concave window. “Tell me they all wore neon pink and make my day.”

Lana clicked through. “You’ll love this bullshit. The canoes are painted with camouflage—apparently the guide moonlights leading hunting parties during the duck-hunting season and figured it was a good idea to use the same craft for both activities.”

Devon banged his forehead against the glass. “Idiot.”

“It gets worse,” Lana warned. “Looks as if your best bet will be the dry bag. As in, you heard me right, there’s one dry bag for the lot of them in the guide’s canoe. Bright red, at least.”

“This guy actually have a license, or did he set up a company online and start bullshitting people?”

“Pretty much. The two who walked away from it said they were offered one place to stick cameras, phones, and wallets for the trip that wouldn’t get wet. Everything else they shoved into backpacks, sports sacks, and garbage bags.”

“High tech,” Anders sighed. “Black garbage bags, of course.”

“Of course.”

Devon listened to the banter, but all his attention was on the water passing slowly beneath them. On the massive rocks lining the shoreline, the tall pines breaking their visibility as the water popped in and out of sight at random intervals. “The one good thing about this area not being a common destination for canoers—any garbage we see is probably from this incident.”

“Exactly. Eyes peeled for garbage stuck in the rocks. Watch the sweepers along the riverbanks plus any low-lying branches things could get caught on. Devon, you focus on the water and the edge in this section, I’ll check the trees,” Anders ordered. “There’s a portage coming up. On the left, Alisha, you’ve got the water, Tripp, the trees.”

Below them the landscape changed. Instead of flying over a river that ran along a fairly level path, the elevation rose sharply to produce multiple waterfalls, each one descending no more than a dozen feet but forming a myriad of options for the water to pour over. Hidden nooks and darkened chasms created places that more than a canoe could vanish into.

“Stop,” Tripp shouted.

Erin paused their forward motion. “Of course, right smack in the middle of the . . . Damn crosswinds. It won’t be a smooth ride, guys. Hold on.”

The chopper was buffeted from side to side as Tripp pointed. Erin fought to keep them level in the changing wind currents rushing around the pillars of rock.

“There’s a bag on the edge of the scrag pile there. See it?”

Devon had found nothing on the right, so he rose to peer over Alisha’s shoulder. The chopper rocked and he caught hold of her to steady himself as they both eyed the ground.

“I see it,” Alisha said excitedly. “Backpack. Only . . . that’s old school. It’s got an exterior frame.”

“Makes sense.” Anders’s disdain was clear. “Hunters use exterior frames for carrying out kills. I bet our wonder guide used the same gear for all of his upmarket adventure experiences.”

“Can you get in closer?” Devon asked Erin. He glanced behind them as best he could, but the water remained unsearchable, with too many rocks and blocked lines of sight. “We can’t see if there’s anyone in the river from here.”

“You’ll have to go on foot. Sorry, guys. Anders can lower you to the shoreline, but there’s no place for me to land soft-bodied people. The winds alone will play havoc with your descent.”

Anders stepped back to his position. “Prep for action. Alisha, we’ll put you down first. If you spot anything unusual on your descent, radio your recommendations for a change of drop site.”

“Got it.” She was out of her seat and hooking up her harness in a flash. Devon and the rest followed suit, the chopper leveling. Even with headsets on, the props were a constant buzz in his ears, the rush and pump of the massive blades creating a throb as if the chopper had a heartbeat.

“I lifted a bit so you can get ready in relative calm,” Erin commented. “Let me know when you’re ready.”

Ropes, climbing cams, first-aid supplies. Everything they needed for a rescue was pushed into bags or attached to their harnesses. Alisha moved into position next to Anders. “Ready.”

He double-checked all her attachments, fingers flying in the familiar safety check pattern they’d done hundreds of times in both training and real-life situations. “You’re good.”

He glanced at the others. Tripp and Xavier were clearing each other’s gear.

Alisha stepped up to Devon. She tugged straps and adjusted gear, her touch skilled and professional. Then her gaze rose to meet his, and her serious expression made something inside him tighten.

She flipped his radio to a private station. “I’m fine, and ready to roll. You be careful, okay?”

It was more than the gesture of a concerned teammate. Devon nodded. “I’ve got your back.”

The doors opened and the wind blasted into the chopper bay. The violent gust lifted everything that wasn’t strapped in place and attempted to rip free everything that was. Alisha clutched the safety hooks by the door tighter, waiting for the go-ahead.

“Erin, I can’t send anyone out in this,” Anders complained.

Cursing carried over the line before Erin got it under control. “This is what you’ve got unless I take you a kilometer upstream, and even then there’re no guarantees it’ll calm down.”

Alisha glanced outside, judging the drop. The wind was stupidly high, but there was a wide landing spot to make for, and it wasn’t that far below them. “I can do this.”

Anders stood beside her, staring out and judging as well. “It’s crazy, Alisha.”

“If I get a line set you can slide the gear and crew in less time than it’ll take to hike from wherever Erin thinks is an alternative. I’m sure of it. Let me try.”

He examined her face and the ground once more before nodding firmly. “Fine, if you’re up for it, we’ll give it a shot. Erin, Alisha’s dropping. Five minutes of your best flying ever, got it?”

“Got it. Alisha, have fun, girl.”

Anders caught her by the chest harness and attached a secondary cable. “If you get into trouble, call it off and Erin will lift straight up. We can have you on solid ground in less than two minutes after bugging out. Deal?”

“Deal, but we’re good.” She couldn’t stop herself from glancing over Anders’s shoulder at Devon. There was concern in his eyes, yes, but his smile was back. The cocky one that said he was having fun.

The adrenaline rushing through her veins proved she was enjoying herself far too much. Other worries faded away. Family demands. Ultimatums. Vincent’s bizarre behavior, even the panic she’d felt days earlier—she knew all those issues were there, that they were real, but here and now was more real. More vivid and making her come alive.

She dropped from the doorway into the open air.

Icy fingers clutched her as the wind personified into an evil demon intent on tearing her from her safe connection to the helicopter. Anders managed her cable, slowly lowering her to the ground. She spun uncontrollably in the wind, twisting her head to catch glimpses of the waterfalls downstream. The wind actually decreased as she got closer to the uneven surface, and on the third rotation she slowed enough to spot something.

There, jackpot.

“We got a hit, guys. There’s a paddle in the scrag pile to the right, and clothing and a black garbage bag stuck to branches on the edge of the cliffs.”

“Affirmative. Ten feet. Prep for landing.”

Alisha got ready to hit the ground, well aware that with the high winds Erin was doing her best, but that at any moment the chopper could change levels. While she was being lowered on the cable it wasn’t as scary a thought. The worst time was at landing, when the ground could come up or down far too fast.

She kept her hand by the safety buckles, and the instant she touched land she dropped to one knee and detached the main cable. Now there was only her extended safety line connecting her to the sky. “I’m down. Hang on, Erin, ten seconds.”

Even as she spoke, Alisha snapped into motion and got the gear in place. She set an anchor into the ground, looped a spare length of rope through it, and attached it to the main cable. The emergency setup she used basically created the equivalent of a giant elastic band. If Erin needed to adjust and rise slightly higher there wouldn’t be any disastrous results—the ropes would expand or contract to use the slack provided.

She stepped back. “Ready for gear.”

One after another, bags slipped off the edge of the chopper deck and careened down the line. Alisha was impressed all over again with Erin’s ability to keep the chopper in one spot, hovering in spite of the wind current striving to push her off course. If the pressure were like a river current it would have been hard enough—a steady force that the pilot would have to fight against. But wind was even more erratic, gusting and lessening without warning. Throughout it all Erin managed to do the damn near impossible.

The bags slowed as they reached the ground, the secondary ropes Anders controlled applying the brakes so she could detach the carabiners and jerk the heavy bags off the rope and to the side. After the fourth bag, her arms were screaming for a time-out.

“Devon’s in place. Prep for his arrival,” Anders warned.

If looking up into the sky and seeing gear racing downward was thrilling, there was something even more exhilarating when the moving target was human. The steep cable incline meant Devon dropped rapidly but smoothly, the wind bowing out his coat before Anders hit the safety and slowed him not more than ten feet before Devon’s feet hit the ground.

His grin said it all. “Holy shit, that was a blast.”

Alisha agreed even as she prepped for Tripp’s arrival.

She didn’t breathe easier until they were all on the ground and she could detach the grounding cable. “You’re free, Erin. And thank you, that was some amazing flying.”

“Erin, you rock,” Tripp agreed.

“We’ll do a quick recon between here and the put-in site, since we can’t help you in the waterfalls for the first while anyway,” Anders announced. “Devon, you’re in charge of the ground search. Everyone okay?”

They were up and out without any further discussion. Like the well-practiced team they were, everyone grabbed gear and moved to the nearest lip of the falls. Devon stepped closer to examine the drop.

Alisha paused as she dug into her bag for extra climbing cams. They were only feet away from the roaring water, the crash ringing in her ears. Her heart rate was elevated, her breathing rapid, but she wasn’t panicking. It was all the emotions and excitement of a rescue, none of the icy-cold terror she’d experienced the last time out.

She rose to her feet and turned to discover Devon loaded with gear, his gaze fixed on her. She nodded and gave him an affirmative again. There was no malice in his examination, and it felt good to know that while he’d keep his word to ensure that the entire team was safe, he hadn’t assumed she’d lose it again.

They moved into position, gazing over the falls. Devon pointed inland. “Trail on the side. Tripp, follow it downstream and report if you spot anything. Alisha and I will check the drops one at a time starting at the top. Xavier, you can follow the edge of the falls along the trail, but stay available for either of us calling you.”

Tripp and Xavier took off as Alisha hooked up the first set point. “You want me to belay you?”

Devon shook his head. “You’re good.”

They tied in again, stopping for yet another of the endless checks to ensure their knots and carabiners were locked. Then Devon surprised the hell out of her by catching hold of her and kissing her briefly, the brows of their helmets clicking together.

“Stay safe.” His words came out rough and off kilter.

Alisha grinned even as the shock of his kiss warmed her. “Bet I can get to the third falls in two jumps.”

He rolled his eyes. “Enough with the bets. I don’t like the looks of the second spray.”

She nodded. “Think something’s caught?’

Devon’s nose wrinkled.

That was the horrid part of the job. When it wasn’t a rescue, but a recovery. She pushed sorrow aside and tightened her ropes in preparation. “On belay.”

“Belay on.”

When she found he’d been right and the second falls were blocked with the broken bow of a canoe, her stomach turned. “Devon, trouble.”

She was roped up, so moving into the current a few paces was safe, but the water crashing from above was too powerful to allow her to get a firm anchor on the wood. Her fingers could just wrap around the gunwale, but no matter how hard she rocked, nothing moved. “I can’t budge it. We’ll have to get Erin overhead so Anders can lower a hook.”

“I’m coming down.”

By the time Devon was ready to join her she’d looked around more and gathered a batch of gear that had washed onto the small rocky edge of the pool.

She finished belaying him and he turned, facing the soggy pile of personal items with sadness in his expression. “It’s not looking good, is it?”

She shook her head.

Tripp’s voice carried on the speakers. “I’m at the base of the falls, and we’ve got a DOA. There’s a half of a broken canoe, and a body in the sweepers on the poolside at the base. They must have gone right the hell over that edge.”

It didn’t look good at their end, either. “Any sign of the second canoe?” Alisha asked.

This time it was Anders who answered. “We’ve got them. There’s a canoe on the shoreline and people waving. Only, sweet mother of God, there’s nowhere to land this baby. We’re coming to get you. Alisha, you’ll have to do a drop to pick these guys up on the cable.”

A short time later they’d returned. Erin placed the chopper over the mangled watercraft and Anders lowered a massive hook. They tipped the canoe and a second body popped free from its trapped position. Devon caught it before it could disappear over the edge of the pool. The red dry bag that had also come loose bobbed a couple of times before vanishing into the foaming water beneath them.

Alisha fought her dismay and soldiered on as they wrapped the body for transport, hooking the harness in place and allowing Anders to winch everything into the chopper.

They returned to the main level of the falls and waited for the cable to descend for their journey up into the bay area.

Devon pulled her aside for a moment, cupping her cheek in his hand. His fingers were cold on her skin and she pressed her fingers over his briefly.

He dipped his chin. “You were amazing. As usual.”

She blinked at the pure passion in his words. “Thank you.”

He tilted his head toward the water. “No problems at any time, right?”

“Nothing to be afraid of—nothing more than usual rescue nerves.”

“I didn’t see you hesitate even once.” He nodded. “I still think we need to get together when we get home to have a deep, thorough discussion of what happens next.”

“Are you asking me for a date, Mr. Leblanc?” Alisha raised a brow. “Because it seems that the issue we thought we had might not be an issue.”

Devon grinned. “We need to confirm you’re not afraid of showers when they contain sexually excited men with an urgent need to ravish you.”

It was wrong in so many ways, and yet equally right. Death’s mark would accompany them as they returned to civilization. Their rush of desire was an indicator of life—of all that they strived to do. Save those they could save, and find peace for those left behind. Alisha didn’t feel as if it were blasphemous or wrong for her and Devon to share the fire in their veins.

To remember and celebrate that they were alive.