High Passion

CHAPTER 24

Devon paced his living room like a caged tiger, frustration and worry making it impossible to sit.

Ever since Alisha had sweet-talked him into allowing her to leave without him he’d been angry about giving in. Angry he hadn’t thought to go along to protect her even if he simply observed from a distance.

Finding the balance between her need to stand on her own and being an overprotective asshole wasn’t an easy line to walk. Adding in that it was now after noon and she still hadn’t returned didn’t make it any easier.

She’d texted him to let him know she was done talking with Vincent and she was safe. She needed “time to think.”

What the fuck did that mean?

If it would have done any good he would have driven around town trying to spot Alisha’s car, but the idea was stupid. Staying home and waiting for her to return seemed his only choice, but the longer he had to wait and keep reaching nothing but her voice mail, the more infuriated he got.

The front door opened and Alisha stepped through, lifting tired grey eyes to meet his.

“What happened?” he snapped. He stomped across to her side and pulled her against him, as she seemed nearly unable to keep on her feet. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, pushing him away as she stumbled into the living room and collapsed onto the couch. “Give me a minute.”

He’d given her all morning, but shouting wouldn’t get her to talk any sooner. He followed her, eyeing her defeated body language as warning bells went off like crazy. This wasn’t the confident, cocky woman who’d left him five hours ago. “Alisha, you’re killing me. What the hell did Vincent do?”

A noise between a whimper and cry escaped her. “He’s insane. He’s completely and totally insane.”

She looked up and he swore, the lost look in her eyes too much to bear. He sank to his knees and caught her hands in his. “Explain.”

“Vincent pretty much admitted to sabotaging Lifeline—to causing Xavier’s accident.”

“What the fuck?”

She snorted. “Yeah, that was my response, but as bizarre as it sounds, it’s true. Only he was sure to mention he couldn’t be implicated in any of it. If I go to the police with this information, it will lead to nothing but dead ends. In the meantime, more accidents could happen.”

Now he understood her confused expression—his must’ve been about the same. “This is bullshit. If he admitted to having anything to do with the accident, of course we go to the police.”

“With what proof?” Alisha snapped. Her cheeks brightened as her breathing picked up. “I wandered for hours trying to figure out a way around this, but his comments are nothing but hearsay, and in the meantime, the rest of you are in danger. He threatened you. You and Erin and—God, he knew Jonah’s name, and everything. Vincent’s deranged enough that I can believe he’d do it. He’d hurt you.”

Devon caught her around the back of the neck and held on tight, his forehead pressed to hers as he attempted to calm her. To make sense of what she was saying. “He’s not going to hurt anyone. Most likely he’s lying in an attempt to scare you into doing what he wants. If he’s really guilty, he’ll be caught. The RCMP is investigating now. If you’ve got information, we need to tell them. Let them explore and—”

“No.” The word burst out like a gunshot as she leapt to her feet, stomping away, her runners loud on the hardwood. She twirled to face him, all energy and passion again, only this time the energy stoking her wasn’t sexual, it was despair. “You don’t understand. What if in the meantime something happens? What if because I go to the RCMP something else terrible happens? I can’t live with that. I just . . .”

She stared up at the ceiling, her teeth biting into her lower lip as she fought to calm herself.

Devon forced his fists to uncurl. To stand slowly, and move as if toward a skittish horse. “You have to trust nothing will happen.”

Fire blazed out again. “I can’t. Don’t you see? You of all people should understand—the accident with your father impacted you hard, and it wasn’t even your fault. It’s taken years for you to move past it.” Her eyes were wild. “Maybe Vincent is lying, maybe he’s not causing terrible things, but what if he is? What if I can stop anyone else from being hurt, or God forbid, killed? What is one fucking year of my life compared to that?”

“What are you proposing?” Devon demanded. “You’re seriously considering quitting Lifeline and marrying him? That won’t solve anything. Not to mention if he is insane, getting married to the asshole isn’t the answer. What kind of crazy abuse would you be putting yourself on the line for? God, Alisha, think this through.”

“I have, dammit. He doesn’t even want me, all he wants is the business.” She pressed her hands against her eyes and swore. “Listen for a minute. It’s stupid and wrong and like something out of the seventeenth century, I get all that, but it’s also the only solution that makes sense. I went over it again and again after I talked to him.”

“You listen to me.” Devon wanted to shake her until reason clicked on. “Tying yourself to someone who you say has threatened others is not right in any way. You can’t put yourself in danger like that.”

She flicked her hands to her sides, still clenched into fists. “I know it’s crazy, Devon. I know, but it feels as if it’s the only goddamn answer there is. I don’t want to do it, but . . . arghhh. I just want all this to go away, but it won’t stop.”

Alisha shoved past him, jerking away as he attempted to soothe her. Her feet slapped the wooden floorboards loudly as she stormed into the back of the house and slammed the bedroom door.

Devon dragged a hand through his hair, frustrated and furious and totally out of his depth.

There was no fucking way he would stand aside and allow her to offer herself up like some damn sacrifice. She’d admitted marrying Vincent was crazy. He’d give her a while to calm down before driving that point harder.

If not, he had no problem tying her to a chair to keep her safe. Or throwing her over his shoulder and hauling her down to the police station to let them know what she’d learned.

She was right about one thing. Suggesting that Vincent was involved in sabotage was a shocker at first. Even knowing in advance that the man was more than slightly unhinged, Devon had never, ever expected to hear such an accusation. Vincent’s obsession with Alisha wasn’t obvious at first, not until you started adding the details up. Little things showed it clearly, like the stupid ploy to buy out her residences from under her, but without that evidence it was hard to believe. Vincent would have skepticism on his side, which was the biggest bullshit Devon had ever faced.

The bedroom door creaked, and he glanced up to see Alisha cross the hallway. She stared, her face tight with frustration, before disappearing into the bathroom. The sound of running water clicked on.

His phone rang—Marcus’s tone. Devon yanked it out and answered it on the second ring, the issues with Vincent not forgotten but set aside for a moment. “Any news?”

His boss’s familiar growl came through, tired and restless. “There’s additional testing to be done, but preliminary reports are in. It’s not good, but it’s not the worst. His T10 was crushed.”

“Shit.” Devon closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Chances of recovery?”

“That’s the good part. You guys stabilized him properly, and he got the fastest treatment possible. They had him in surgery already this morning. He’ll have therapy to deal with, but chances of walking again are higher than average.”

Devon leaned on the wall to stop the room from spinning, shoving the images of his father into a corner of his mind and focusing on the here and now. “You going to see him?”

“I’m already in Calgary. Becki and I will be back in a couple days. In the meantime we’re all on hiatus. I’ll call everyone else and let them know. Lifeline’s not taking any call-outs. I’ve got . . . I’ve got feelers out for a new paramedic for the team.”

A truth that was necessary but still sucked hugely, and also meant this wasn’t the time to mention Alisha’s threat to quit. “I’ll let Alisha know—she’s here with me. You need me to do anything at the shop?”

“No. It’s locked up tight. There’s more investigating to do in the next week, but my RCMP contact says he’s on top of it.” Marcus sighed. “We’ll get through this, Devon.”

Marcus didn’t know the half of it. “That’s my line to you,” Devon repeated. “Call if you need anything.”

They both hung up, and Devon paced the room again, searching for the words to go and knock some sense into Alisha even as he shared the news regarding Xavier.

He picked up his coat from where she’d thrown it toward the back of the couch, more to keep his hands busy than out of a need to clean up, and an envelope fell to the ground.

The unusual texture and unusual colouring screamed Vincent—it was the same kind of expensive envelope that had held the house offer he’d read earlier. Devon opened it and peeked inside. The plane ticket in Alisha’s name confirmed part of her report. Vincent really did think he could simply take over her life.

Fury swamped him, and Devon acted on instinct. He’d been patient, he’d waited, but it wasn’t time to wait any longer. He pulled on the coat and headed out the door.

Vincent wanted to make threats against the people closest to him? Devon would give him a few reasons to reconsider.

Alisha tilted her face into the shower and let the hot water cascade over her in the hopes of washing Vincent’s stench away. The reek of fear.

Devon was right. She had to go to the RCMP, but horror continued to tango in her veins.

The what ifs terrified her more than anything she’d faced in her years of rescue work. More than the panic attack in the cavern not so long ago, because not only did she feel out of control, but the chaos was deliberate. Humanly guided deceit.

A flash flood or rock slide could shatter lives. At Lifeline they fought that devastation—they brought people back safely more times than not. Man against nature followed rules she’d learned to combat during her time in school and training.

Vincent’s careless disregard for human life cut harder and deeper than the smash of a rock or the icy touch of hypothermia.

Nature wasn’t deliberately cruel. She was unpredictable and powerful. Most of the time she could not be tamed, but gentled. Vincent had stepped outside those boundaries, and Alisha wasn’t willing to play his games. Not anymore.

If she had to leave Lifeline for the safety of her teammates, she’d do so, but she wouldn’t marry Vincent. She’d go south, find somewhere to hide for a while until some proof was found of his involvement.

Devon was right. She needed to trust him, the way she’d trusted him with her life until now.

Going to the police was the only option. Even more urgent on the agenda, from the perspective of Vincent being more than slightly unhinged, was warning her teammates.

She clicked off the shower and hurried to dress, calling for Devon. She couldn’t find him anywhere. No note, no nothing.

When his phone went to voice mail she growled in frustration. Great. Now that she’d had time to see reason, he wasn’t there. It might be needy, but if she had to do this, she wanted him by her side.

Calling everyone on Lifeline individually wasn’t what she wanted, either. Too many explanations—too many questions. She opened her computer and composed a short e-mail.

Maybe it was melodramatic, but Vincent’s “I have the resources to make this happen,” had scared her more than she wanted to admit. She had no idea if her e-mail was being monitored. Was that even possible outside television?

The less she said the better at this point.

Potential danger. Please, stay home tonight. I’ll contact you ASAP. Rule #3

Lifeline’s rules—the ones plastered on the wall in HQ that guided all their training, rescues, and interactions. Rule three was Trust your team. They all understood what it meant. That she was calling on them to go without information and simply believe she was making the right decision based on information she had that they lacked.

Anders had a roommate, as did Tripp. She didn’t think even Vincent would go full-out thug and try anything with them. He seemed to have gone the more devious route up to now, other than his threat against Erin.

Where the hell was Devon? Alisha pulled on her shoes and coat, shoved her wet hair under a toque, and headed for her car. She’d go to Erin’s—at least that way there would be two of them together, and as soon as she got hold of Devon, they could all go to the RCMP station.

She set up her hands-free phone, reluctant to make one more contact, but again, it was the right thing to do. She tapped in her father’s office number; the ringing seemed to take forever before going through. Of course, she still had to run the gauntlet. Hell if she’d sit around waiting for him to call back this time, though.

“Mr. Bailey’s office. How can I help you?” Marilee the robot—right on schedule.

“Alisha Bailey. I want to speak with my father immediately. Don’t do a callback—put me through right now, no matter what.”

Marilee paused, and then, miracle of miracles, did as ordered. “Yes, Miss Bailey. One minute, I’ll connect you.”

God, if she’d known being a bossy bitch was the solution, she would have tried it years ago.

“Alisha?” Her father all but barked at her. “I’m in the middle of a meeting.”

“I’m calling to warn you that Vincent Monreal has been threatening me. I’m going to the police this afternoon. I thought you should know so you could be prepared in case—”

“Goddamn, what the hell are you talking about?” It was sickeningly amusing to hear her unflappable father break. “Just—hold on one minute.”

He must have barely covered the phone with a hand because brief speaking voices in the background were followed by the sound of motion. Only when there was silence did he come on the line.

“Slow down and explain yourself. Vincent threatened you? You’re on drugs or something, aren’t you? Part of your alternative lifestyle as a mountain hippie?”

Alisha clutched the steering wheel tighter but refused to give in to the urge to simply hang up. “I’m not drunk, high, or otherwise incapacitated. Not like I was last week when someone shoved enough painkillers into my drink to send me to the hospital. I’m not calling to get advice, simply as a courtesy. Vincent has been in Banff for the past month and has gone from a somewhat creepy stalker to outright dangerous. I’m going to the RCMP.”

“Vincent’s been here in Toronto, or on the West Coast working on deals,” her father insisted. “I looked into it after you called the last time. Your outrageous conduct has got to stop now, Alisha. I’m getting tired of this twisted, attention-seeking behavior, and—”

“You know what, Dad? You know what kind of attention I want from you? Nothing. Never again. So you can just go to hell.”

She stabbed the end call button and breathed out slowly. It was no use, but at least she could assuage her guilt on that account. Whatever happened in terms of fallout for Bailey Enterprises was no longer her fault. Her father had chosen not to listen or believe her, so now she’d choose her own path.

She’d choose her own family, starting with Devon.