High Risk

CHAPTER 32

Stubborn, hardheaded, fantastic woman. Marcus was torn between holding her or shaking sense into her.

Becki wiggled away and disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of running water spilling through the slightly open door. He peered in to see her press a washcloth to her face, bathing away her tears.

It was his turn to pace the room and stare at the walls, striving desperately to figure out what to do next, what to say, before she returned.

She seemed determined to ignore reason. Her fears were understandable, only she’d taken the tiniest scrap of memory, followed it with some assumptions, and believed the worst-case scenario as fact.

He got it—the wanting to move on. Accepting what you assumed to be true because the alternative was to stay frozen in one place. But he’d learned the hard way, though, that situations, even memories, weren’t always what they seemed.

Alisha had shared that Becki wanted to go back to Yellowstone. If she’d been cleared to rejoin her rescue squad, he would have had to say good-bye. He would have, too. Would have lied his fucking ass off and pretended he was pleased for her, and enthusiastically sent her on her way.

He couldn’t be a part of her world—not at the high-risk level she was capable of. Not with his arm, or the nightmares that still hovered. He might run a SAR, but he wasn’t part of it.

And he loved her too much to hold her back.

Goddamn. It seemed he still had a heart after all. He’d given it away in spite of trying not to.

He’d fallen for her. Hard.

At times like this, his mandate of move decisively battled with be patient. Becki had asked him years ago how to know which of those two rules to act on.

All he knew for sure was he didn’t want to lose her, and he didn’t want to cause her any more pain. More than that, there were no easy answers, other than there was no way he could allow her to take the next steps alone.

She stepped out of the bathroom, chin held high, her face much brighter, if only from a vigorous scrubbing.

When you weren’t positive what to do, you started at the beginning and proceeded step by step. He indicated the kitchen chairs behind them. “Come on. Let’s make a list. Consider what needs to be done. There’s no time frame for you to move. The authorities have waited for months. They can wait a couple more days if that’s what it takes for you to be prepared. Understand?”

Becki nodded.

Before he could move, she was against him, hugging him tightly. “Marcus—thank you.”

The thought of losing her was going to break him in two. “Nothing to thank me for. Come on.”

She stood tall, pulling her shoulders back, that strength he’d always admired being dragged on like a protective coat. It made him admire her even more.

He found a pad of paper, then sat at the table. “Who do you need to contact in Yellowstone?”

Becki pulled out the chair beside him, staring into space before giving him names. “If you give me the sat phone, I can call them.”

Marcus ignored her. “Who else?”

“David. I need to let him know. . . .” She cleared her throat. “You understand I won’t be taking the position at Banff SAR now.”

Her fingers shook, and he reached out to squeeze them. “I think you should talk to him before resigning, but let’s put it on the page for now.”

When she didn’t argue, he breathed a sigh of relief. As far as he was concerned, David would be crazy to let her go, but he had to leave that decision up to his brother. He’d go along with the façade of pretending to agree with her on that one so they could keep talking. “What next? What are you thinking of doing for work, then?”

“Not sure.” She picked at a gouge in the tabletop. “Nothing in SAR, that’s for sure. I’ll probably head home to the farm for a while. Doubt the media will want to make the trek into rural Saskatchewan, and if they do, my dad’s got NO TRESPASSING signs posted far enough back that I can at least be useful doing chores until the interest dies away.”

Dammit. Her willingness to give up and move on so quickly pissed him off. Maybe being gentle wasn’t the way to go. Honest. He’d promised to be honest, and here was his chance.

“You could do that. Or we could deal with the media, expect them to go away in a short while, and if David doesn’t think your staying on at Banff SAR works, you can come and work for me.”

Her sudden intake of breath and white face made him reach out to steady her, afraid she was going to collapse to the floor.

Words snapped out of her like a whip. “Are you nuts?”

“No.”

“You are.” She leapt to her feet and paced away, dragging her hands through her hair before twirling on him. “If I can’t work at the school, how could it possibly be a good idea to join your team? No one will want me involved in rescues. No one will trust me.”

“You’re leaping to a lot of conclusions, but we’ll cross them as they arrive. Don’t you want to work in the mountaineering world anymore?”

“Stop this.” She wrapped her arms around her. “Stop tormenting me with possibilities that are no longer within my reach.”

It took everything he had not to rise and hold her again. But she needed to accept what he was saying. Needed to believe him.

“Answer the damn question, Becki.”

“Yes,” she shouted, utter despair on her face. “Yes, I want to work in the mountains. I want to climb and fly rescues. I want to experience the thrill and the adrenaline rush. I want to make a difference, and I can’t. Don’t you see? I can’t do any of that anymore because it’s—”

Her voice broke and her knees gave way. He was barely in time to catch her, holding her with his body as he guided her to the couch.

Becki attempted to shake off his help, but he held on. “Stop fighting me,” he snapped. “Listen. For one goddamn time in your life, listen first. If I have to tie you up to make you stay put, I swear I will.”

He sat her down and knelt in front of her again, catching hold of her chin in his fingers. Forcing her to look at him. She wasn’t seeing the big picture, so he’d push her in the right direction until she came back to her senses. “This is not the end of your career in the mountains, and you’re being ridiculous if you think it is. Yes, some people will avoid you. Yes, some people will say cruel and cutting things. Fuck them. Fuck them all.”

Misery still stared back, but at least she was listening.

“Wouldn’t that be your comment if years ago someone had said you couldn’t be on a squad because you were a woman? If you overheard someone taunting that there was no way a petite woman like Alisha could possibly be lead hand on an elite SAR team? You’ve always done what you’ve thought was right. You’ve let your actions show what you’re capable of—let your skills prove that you’re competent and strong. Since when have you cared what other people think when what you know—”

She held up a hand to interrupt, head shaking slightly as she blinked back tears. “But Marcus . . . what I know is I did it. That’s what’s killing me. That’s what makes it impossible to join a team. Because when someone doubted me before, yeah, I did toss their opinion out the window. I knew I was qualified. Now? If someone looks at me and doubts? I can’t throw it off. I can’t say fuck them because . . . they could be right.”

Her words had dropped to a whisper, but she kept going. Maintained eye contact as if willing him to understand.

Even in the middle of her confusion and sadness, she had no idea how strong she was. Something inside Marcus turned and settled. She would get past this, and he’d do anything to make sure she got that chance.

“Then take a hiatus until you feel you’re back to speed. Train. Work in positions that build that trust again. I’m willing to take you on, Becki. I know it’s not as glamorous a position, working the call centre, but your skills would be useful there. Don’t give it all up when you don’t have to.”

Becki forced herself to look away and stare at the wall behind his shoulder, slowing her breathing. What he’d suggested made her ache—she wanted it so badly, but it wouldn’t be right.

How could she deliberately allow her now-tarnished reputation to destroy what he’d worked so hard to build? She wouldn’t dream of causing trouble to even a casual co-worker, let alone a compatriot she respected.

She definitely couldn’t do it to the man she loved.

“I don’t want to leave, but I can’t stay. I can’t ask you and Lifeline to make that kind of sacrifice for me.”

Marcus caught her hand. “You’ve trusted me over the past couple of weeks. You put yourself into my hands on the wall and in my bed. Has that stopped? Do you not think you can depend on me anymore?”

Another shock raced through her as she shook her head in denial. “I trust you, but I don’t see how that matters. My having faith in you doesn’t change the facts.”

“It matters because I don’t think you need to leave, and if you trust me, you’ll let me find a way to help you get through this temporary situation.”

She collapsed into the cushions a little harder. It was useless. He wasn’t giving up the fight, and she couldn’t understand why he was being so stubborn. “And here’s where we go back to fighting, because I doubt what I’ve got is a short-term issue.”

“You’re blinded by emotion right now. The situation will change. Don’t leave me when a little time—”

He snapped to a stop.

The buzzing in her ears made her doubt she’d heard him correctly, but his shocked expression was a dead giveaway. Was that why he’d come away with her in the first place—the reason he’d refused to share? Was it possible he’d actually come to care for her as well?

“Marcus?”

He took a deep breath as he lifted her knuckles to his lips. “Don’t leave me.”

Her throat tightened and her heart raced, this time with a strange mixture of hope and lingering sadness. “I don’t want to leave, either,” she confessed.

“Then don’t.” He made it sound so simple. “I want you around. I want you in my house, and down at the gym, shouting at me to train harder. I want you working with my team, however you and they feel comfortable, because I’m one hundred percent sure there’s a place for you.”

Having a total change in her circumstances seemed impossible. Becki stared at his eyes. Anchoring herself in what she saw there. It was the best of both worlds, if she was willing to take the chance.

Loud ringing tore them both from the moment, the metallic sound echoing strangely in the rustic setting.

“Sat phone.” He rushed to the case that held it, snapped open the lid, and pulled it free. He lifted it to his ear.

“Marcus Landers.” He frowned, and her stomach fell.

She wasn’t ready to deal with a reporter yet. Becki wished she could crawl back into bed and hide for a while. The only thing keeping her from running in terror was the knowledge that Marcus wouldn’t force her to handle this alone.

But he wasn’t slamming down the receiver, either, which was what she’d have expected if it were something she could ignore. She stepped closer, a familiar masculine voice carrying over the line.

There was another short burst of words. Even at a distance she heard the fear. Marcus responded soothingly. “Hang on. She’s right here. You’re going to be fine. Just talk to Becki, and we’ll come as quick as we can.”

Marcus held out the phone. “It’s your brother. He’s in trouble.”