High Risk (2 page)

CHAPTER
1

May

Banff National Park

“I’d like to fire their asses. Every damn one of them.” Marcus stared out his office
window at the clouds wafting past Mount Rundle. The peaceful serenity of the Banff
panorama didn’t match his internal turmoil.

“You’d regret it when you get a call and need a full crew to go save a Boy Scout troop
in trouble.” David gestured for him to sit. “Stop pacing. Your team made a mistake.
They screwed up. Look on the good side. It was a training exercise, and no one died.”

If they’d still been teens, Marcus would have thrown a fist in David’s direction.
“Look on the good side? Since when did you become Suzy fucking Sunshine? You ripped
the ears off one of your first-year students last month for messing up. I hold my
team to a higher standard than a bunch of rescue wannabes.”

“My student? Oh, come on. That’s different.” David snapped his mouth shut, probably
annoyed that his rare outburst had been carried on the grapevine.

Marcus dropped into his desk chair, pleased to witness his brother’s guilty expression.
Being fuming mad didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy taking a dig or two. He was glad they
didn’t work together, though. Years ago David had taken his backcountry skills in
a different direction, choosing to pass on his expertise to the next generation. He’d
established one of the highest-ranked training centres in North America. Graduates
from David’s institute were currently employed across the United States and Canada,
hauling people out of life-and-death situations in the mountains and rivers of national
parks and other wilderness settings.

Teaching had never been on Marcus’s agenda. Instead, he’d been busy saving the bloody
world. Using his abilities in one or another of the hot zones where getting caught
was less a matter of apologizing and offering restitution, and more about picking
up as many pieces as you could find and shoving them into a bag to take home.

Now, years later, Banff had become a safe place where when things got tough, there
was someone who cared unconditionally. Because he was the first to admit there were
times he was less than easy to get along with.

David nabbed a magazine off the side table and shook it at him. “This conversation
isn’t about my school, or my students. If your squad blew it, deal with it. They need
a bit of boot camp. They’re spoiled. Being named ‘the best of the best’ has gone to
their heads. Plus, they’re spending more time in the bar enjoying people fawning over
them than they are training—it adds up, bro. Mistakes were bound to happen.”

Excuses weren’t acceptable. Marcus shook his head. “Not on my watch. That’s not what
getting selected to work for Lifeline is about. I expect them to be on all the time,
David.”

“I know, I know. When you organized your squad, you said you were going to keep it
tight and make it special. Three years—God, I can’t believe it’s been such a short
time. You’ve done amazing things with them, but maybe you need to regroup.”

Marcus dragged his hand through his hair and consciously released a slow breath. Regrouping
was what he was doing, but pouring a tall glass of something strong and forgetting
everything for a while was tempting.

Three years didn’t seem like long enough to have changed his entire direction in life.
Globe-trotting and working undercover—he hadn’t expected the secretive recovery operations
he’d been involved with to last forever, but he’d never thought his career would vanish
with one bad decision.

On someone else’s part.

He glanced involuntarily at the stump of his left arm. On a side table just beyond
his line of sight lay his modified prosthetic, the one he wore only when absolutely
necessary. Physically he’d healed and moved on. Mentally—there were still days when
cursing wasn’t enough.

Still, returning to Banff after he’d been discharged from the hospital had been a
no-brainer. Setting up a private rescue company had always been the fallback plan
for when he decided to get out of working for others. He’d recruited the best, trained
them hard, and now they were the go-to squad called in for high-risk and impossible
rescues.

The sight of one of that elite team Z-clipping during a routine training exercise
and potentially killing more than the rescue attempt flashed into his brain again,
and he growled in frustration. “If this is what becoming famous does, I’m keeping
my squad in the dark from here on. I should have told that reporter to take his damn
camera and shove it up his ass.”

“Don’t blame Nathan for writing the article. Blame
Sports Illustrated
for publishing it and making the theme for the entire magazine a salute to your ‘death-defying
gods and goddesses of the wilderness.’”

“Stow it. We’ve established what caused the problem. My team has gotten fat and lazy
sitting on their laurels.”

“So, increase their regular training. We’re between skiing and hiking season. With
the school on semester break until June first, you’re welcome to access any of the
equipment. Perfect time for some intense workouts to get their act together.” David
sneered. “Maybe you should consider joining them instead of teaching from the sidelines.”

Bastard.
David was the only one brave enough to taunt him. “You implying I’m out of shape?”

“If the tire fits—”

Marcus threw a pen across the room, his brother deflecting it easily. “I’ve been coordinating,
not flying rescues. Plus dealing with office work. I’m still in shape—I’m not too
weak to beat your ass.”

“Fine, you’re in decent physical shape, but you’re nowhere near as technically qualified
as before.” David lifted his chin in challenge. “And don’t give me the excuse you
only have one arm, because you told me from day one you’d never let that hold you
back.”

“Goddammit, you are a son of a bitch sometimes, aren’t you?”

His brother grinned. “I know very well that you were the inspiration behind a lot
of those kids wanting to sign on with Lifeline. If the legend can let himself go soft . . .
Think about it.”

He had been. Marcus pulled out a file folder and tossed it across his desk. “Fine.
You win. ASAP the team is back in basic training.”

It only took a few minutes for David to flip through the pages, swearing softly. He
dropped the file to the floor, one page clutched in his hand. “You tricky bastard,
you already had a plan organized even while you were bitching at me. When did you
get this in place?”

Pulling a fast one on his brother felt damn good. “Your school secretary has been
amazing. I’m thinking of stealing her away.”

“You can’t afford her.” The single page David had pulled was shaken in his direction.
“You don’t have anyone listed for rope training.”

Marcus shook his head. “Your lead instructor said he’s got plans for the semester
break. You have any other ideas?”

A grin broke across David’s face so quickly it was frightening. “It’s funny you ask.
I just brought in an expert to plan some specialized classes. She’s going to join
the school next semester as a general instructor and overseer.”

“She?”

“Rebecca James.”

His brother said her name so casually. As if she weren’t the one woman everyone in
the mountain community knew. David must have been itching to share his good fortune
in nabbing her for a job.

A shot of adrenaline flared through Marcus’s body in direct opposition to what David
was probably expecting.
Holy shit.
Holy fucking shit.

Becki James.

He determinedly copied David’s nonchalance. “She’s going into teaching?”

David nodded slowly. “Her contract with the U.S. Parks Department in Yellowstone was
up anyway, and she said she wanted to take a little time off, so I issued an invitation.”

For one brief second a kind of panic hit as Marcus wondered if this was a setup, if
his brother had arranged this to jerk him out of his gloom. The sensation faded as
rapidly as it arrived. As far as he knew, the long-ago sexual escapade between him
and Becki was still a complete secret. The chances that David would remember he’d
visited the school while she was a student were slim. If he was going to keep it that
way, he needed his alarm to remain hidden.

“You have a funny idea of time off if you asked her to come teach. Wasn’t it you who
suggested I go somewhere like a deserted island for my next holiday so I didn’t feel
the need to keep rescuing people?”

“Face it, bro, you’re just a big old Saint Bernard.”

Right. “Tell that to the team who fucked up their rope climb yesterday. I doubt they
were calling me a Saint Bernard last night. Pit bull, asshole, scary son of a bitch—those
were more likely the names crossing their lips.”

David grinned. “Gee, I wonder why. . . .”

Marcus stopped for a moment and considered. He might have an ulterior motive in asking
the question, but it was a legitimate one. “Is Rebecca any good as a teacher? I mean,
we got the media reports last September, and that’s it. She may have been involved
in a high-profile rescue, but fieldwork isn’t teaching. You know that.”

“One of the best. She trained here, you know.”

“Really? Why didn’t you mention that sooner?” This conversation was going nowhere
fast. David seemed pleased to have scored such a high-ranked instructor.

Marcus changed mental tracks. Would having her around be an issue? So what if he and
Becki had a slight sexual history?

Although calling it
slight
turned it into the biggest bullshit of the day yet.

“She’s a BSR grad, and she’s in town?”

David nodded. “Staying in the school dorms. I offered her a hotel room until the teachers’
apartments are done being renovated, but she said she was happy to use a student space
while the kids are on break for the next three weeks. Why don’t you go see her? Take
her out for lunch.”

A sneaky suspicion stole over Marcus. “Why?”

David blinked. “What do you mean? So you can ask her to train your squad.”

“Maybe we should let her settle in. Enjoy the break before semester begins.”

“Look, if you don’t want the best for your team, that’s fine. I’m not telling you
to fuck her. Just be nice to her. Make her feel welcome.”

Marcus choked on hearing
fuck her
.

David must have thought his reaction meant something else. He glared across the room.
“Goddamn, Marcus. If
Sports Illustrated
had heard about her before Lifeline, they’d have forgotten you completely.”

“Fine. What room is she in?”

David flipped him off. “So glad you’re willing to make the sacrifice. Three-oh-five.
I know she arrived this morning, but I can’t guarantee she’s there. And she said she
needed to pick up a new cell phone today rather than use her U.S. one, so I don’t
even have a number for you to call.”

Marcus waved it off. “Details. I can track her down.”

“Hey.” David gave him a dirty look, and suddenly it was twenty years earlier, and
Marcus was being warned by his more cautious sibling. “Don’t be an ass to her. I want
her to stay, and I don’t need you mucking around.”

Oh, Jesus. Mucking around was totally off the agenda for so damn many reasons. “When
am I an ass?”

“Lately? Most of the time.” David reassembled the file and returned it to the desk.
“You are the best at what you do. I mean it, Marcus. But you’ve also gotten cold over
the past year. Try to lighten up, okay? I know we’re in a tough business, and there
are moments we’ve got to be serious, but you’re not the same guy you used to be. I
kind of miss him.”

Marcus thumped his brother on the back and walked him to the door. “Hopefully he’s
still around. Maybe I’ll find him as I polish up my technical skills.”

And maybe pigs would fly.

He didn’t need to be all light and sparkly to be good at what he did, but there was
no reason to argue that point right now. And walking back into Becki’s life after
seven years—hell of a way to try to lighten up.

* * *

Becki closed the closet, a sense of déj�� vu hitting as her clothing vanished behind
the familiar wooden doors. Even though the fabric on the other side of the door was
a lot more expensive than when she’d first walked into the school, the garments were
pretty much the same. Comfortable, easy to wear. Except for the single fancy dress
she’d brought along on a whim, Mountain Equipment Co-op was still her designer of
choice.

She strolled to the window to reacquaint herself with the surroundings. Set on the
hillside, the dorms had the most spectacular view of Mount Rundle, its distinctive
jagged top cutting an angled line against the pastel-blue Alberta sky. Small, pale-green
buds trembled in the light breeze. The trees were slower to leaf out here than in
nearby Calgary, the higher elevation and cooler nights of the mountains holding back
the spring.

The window was already open. Fresh air flooded the room and swirled over the queen-size
bed. Beyond the increased size of sleeping arrangements, not much else had changed
from when she’d been a student. A desk. A bulletin board on the wall with a single
motivating quote painted across the top:
I am the captain of my soul.