High Risk (25 page)

CHAPTER
27

The ground swept away before her, the heavy weight of Dane’s body at the other end
of the rope dragging her downward. Becki fought for a handhold, scrambling backward
crablike. Heels digging in, fighting for purchase. She caught a boot against a firm
protrusion and leaned back to stop her momentum. Her harness lifted her hips from
the ground as the rope insistently tugged her toward the cliff edge.

She would have sworn, would have called for help. Would have begged if there were
the slightest possibility anyone could hear her.

The root beneath her foot wiggled. The stump crumbled, the soil around the rotting
wood coming free. Becki kicked her other heel into the hillside, trying to form a
divot, desperate to hollow out a place to hold herself steady.

The rope groaned, twisting with the weight on the other end. She was losing the battle.
Another rock worked loose, the wind howling past her and forcing her to turn her head
to the side. The scent of fresh earth and loose rock dust mingled together and filled
her nostrils. She peeked longingly at the trees behind her, so close and yet totally
out of reach.

Her vision blurred as she fought to focus. Looking ahead for anything that would provide
an anchor for a safety loop.

Nothing. An inch at a time she lost ground. She’d slowed her approach to the cliff
edge, but it looked inevitable. It wasn’t a matter of if, but when.

She was going to be dragged over the edge by the weight of her partner.

Becki scrambled at her leg pocket, bruised and battered fingers protesting as she
tore up the Velcro and yanked out her knife. She’d lost little bits of fingernails
on her right hand, and sharp pains stabbed her as she frantically pressed the safety
catch to release the protective covering. The casing fell away to expose the serrated
knife edge. Becki longed for a nice fixed blade, something with an extended reach
and more than a three-inch cutting surface. She slipped her forefinger into the holding
loop and stabbed at the ground behind her, working to find a spot firm enough to allow
her to Just. Stop. Sliding.

She swung again and again, each time the ricochet when blade met rocks bounced through
her hand and arm to grip her with pain. For a moment, she thought she had it. The
blade sank in deep and she clung tight, gasping for air. Biceps flexed hard, muscles
shaking as her descent slowed. Praying for a moment to recover her position. If she
could find something to brace against.

The blade quivered.

“No. No, no, no. Stay in place, oh please
please
, stay in place,” she begged. Kicking frantically. Fingertips of her free hand scratching
for purchase.

She was almost at the point where she’d warned herself she had to give up. Three more
feet before she’d have to turn her back on everything she’d worked toward for so many
years. But if she crossed that imaginary line, if she couldn’t stop herself from slipping
past it, she would go off the cliff, and she and Dane would both die.

That invisible boundary was the last possible moment she had to save herself.

And while every bit of her protested dying, she wondered how she’d ever deal with
knowing she’d as good as killed her partner.

* * *

Her instinct to jerk upright was stopped by something heavy across her body. Becki
held her breath and tried to pull herself together, ordering her heart to slow enough
so that it wasn’t about to pound its way out of her chest.

Warm lips touched her cheek, heated air caressing her as a firm grip caught her arm.
“I’m here. You’re not alone.”

Becki nodded and curled under him, burying in tight like a kitten looking for protection.
The scent of his skin soothed her and she inhaled deeply, attempting to find the balance
that had been torn away the previous night.

Dreams shouldn’t be able to do things like this. “What time is it?”

Marcus lifted his head slightly, glancing over her at the clock on the nightstand.
“Nearly eight
A.M.
”

“Good drugs. I never sleep this late.”

“You needed it. Don’t fuss. You want to get up, or shall I let you hog the covers
without me?”

Becki wiggled far enough away to look into his face. “Lots on the agenda for today?”

Dark eyes stared back, searching her carefully. “Nothing but you.”

She wanted to protest that he didn’t need to, but that would be the opposite of what
she wanted. Especially with the dream lingering in her brain. “I need your help, Marcus.
I need to have someone there to help me deal with the next few days.”

He brushed his fingers over her cheek and into her hair, cupping the back of her head
tenderly. “Thank you for asking.”

Becki gave a wry smile. “Well, I figured you were planning on taking charge anyway,
and this way I can’t complain because it’s my own damn fault.”

“You know me too well already.”

“I know how your brain works, yes. I think I have a bit of the bossy gene in me as
well. Makes us clash.”

He grinned. “Fighting sucks, but the makeup sex is pretty hot.”

The memories made her body warm and tingle in spite of everything crowding her brain.
Or maybe because of the things that had gone wrong. Sex was easier to concentrate
on than anything else. Natural, easy, with the added bonus that in the end you forgot
everything except pleasure, at least for a little while.

She was suddenly very aware that they were both naked. Becki stroked a hand over his
chest, watching closely as she played with the curves of the muscles. Spreading her
fingers wide as she pressed on his chest and rolled him to his back.

There was no way she could have made him go unless he was willing. When she lifted
her knee over his hips to straddle him, Marcus pulled off the blankets, then folded
his arms behind his head.

“I’m not even going to pretend to wonder what you’re doing,” he said.

“Is it wrong?” Becki asked, slipping herself backward far enough to grasp his erection
and stroke it carefully. “I need you. This way as well.”

He didn’t answer, just thrust against her grip, the skin over his shaft so soft compared
to the hardness beneath it. She pumped him unhurriedly, bringing him to full rigidity
before lifting herself over him.

One hand on his chest as she braced herself, the other guiding him in. That sense
of fullness and pleasure distracting her. Helping her concentrate on nothing but the
here and now. Marcus reached up and stroked her breasts, one, then the other. Trailed
his fingers down her body softly, like the brush of wings teasing and making her more
sensitive.

All the while she rose and fell over him, undulating slowly and savouring having him
fill her.

He touched between her legs, bringing up moisture from where they met and lifting
it to her clit. He rubbed firmly, tilting his hips and adding a small thrust every
time she dropped, and suddenly the sex wasn’t as calm as it had been a moment before.

She closed her eyes and just felt. Relished the sensations, the caring in his every
touch. The climax that was fast approaching.

“Fuck.” Marcus rolled her and scrambled from the bed, jerking the discarded blanket
from the floor and tossing it over her. He stormed to the French doors and snapped
one open, buck naked and still aroused. “Get the hell off my deck.”

Becki clutched the sheets to her chest like some old-time romance heroine and stared
at the windows. “Marcus?”

One movement and the door slammed shut. Two steps and he had the narrow gap in the
curtains snapped closed. He rotated toward her, anger in his eyes, body gone tight
with tension. “We had a visitor. I’m calling Ted to inform him that next time, the
cops get involved.”

Her stomach fell. “You think it was reporters?”

Marcus grimaced, pacing back to sit on the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under
his hips. “I don’t usually have neighbours coming over on a Saturday morning to borrow
cups of sugar, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

“No, I understand how they get.” She had far-too-clear memories of being hounded by
reporters. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Nothing you did.” Marcus stroked her leg under the sheet, looking her over
carefully. She tried not to show how out of whack she was, but it must have been
apparent because he sighed. With a pat to her thigh, he changed topics. “Come on,
I’ll get breakfast.”

Her nerves still tingled with her almost-orgasm, but he was right. Slipping back into
sex wasn’t going to work. “Frustration is not my cup of tea. Just to be clear.”

Marcus’s smile twitched. “Mine, either, but we can finish this later. Hit the shower.”

By the time she stepped back into the bedroom, wrapped in a towel, clean clothes were
waiting for her on the bed. She dressed quickly, the comfortable familiar clothing
helping to set her a little more at ease.

Whatever was going to happen today, she would survive it. She was strong, capable.
No matter how confused, she could do this. Having Marcus to help her . . . Maybe she
shouldn’t have felt as much comfort at the thought that he’d promised to be there
for her, but right now she wasn’t about to wonder why.

He had breakfast laid on the table, the curtains opened to the view. Becki walked
to the glass and peered out on the grey and cold.

“There’s snow again,” she complained. “Haven’t we had enough?”

On the deck a clear line of footprints led to the windows, then disappeared around
the corner toward the bedroom.

Marcus stepped beside her and hugged her briefly. “Our Peeping Tom. I made a few calls.”

Becki nodded, then deliberately turned her back on the mountains, choosing a chair
at the table where the only thing she saw was Marcus seated across from her.

Which wasn’t a bad view, to be honest.

Fighting the numbness inside, Becki pushed herself forward. She’d been here before,
ready to fall apart, and sheer determination had rescued her. One day at a time.

She had to get through this day, and that meant getting through this hour. “Tell me
what you’ve already done, and what’s next.”

* * *

Marcus went through the list of people he’d been in contact with while she’d been
showering and dressing. It was short but made it clear he wasn’t messing around. The
newspaper and the RCMP were both on the list. Every point he mentioned, she nodded,
eating her breakfast with more appetite than he’d have been able to muster in the
same conditions.

When he reached the end, he leaned back in his chair and examined her carefully. “Good
so far?”

“About what I’d have done, although you have all the contacts here in Banff to do
it quicker. Thank you.” Becki pulled over the notepad she’d been jotting down notes
on. “I need to call Alisha and thank the team for their support. The news must have
been a terrible shock for them as well—I’m grateful they stood up for me.”

“You’ve made a good impression on them, Becki,” Marcus assured her. “You’re not just
Rebecca James, some unknown superstar, anymore. You’re obviously considered part of
the team.”

That conjured her first full smile of the day. “Thanks. Still, I want to let them
know it means the world.”

“Monday will be soon enough—there’s no training this weekend.” Something occurred
to him. “Hmm, the fact that it’s the weekend might make it more difficult to reach
anyone in Yellowstone. I assume you have contacts?”

She nodded.

“If the authorities need to get hold of you, they will, e-mail or phone. If you want
to make contact first, that’s fine as well.” Marcus hesitated, but had to ask. “Did
you want to return to Yellowstone for Dane? A memorial or something?”

She clutched her fork a little tighter but shook her head. “We already had a funeral,
and there’s not anyone who wants to do it all over.”

And after more than eight months, he didn’t want Becki to have to deal with the body.
“Family who might want him buried somewhere in particular?”

“No. It’s too bad they found him, in a way.” Becki lifted her gaze to his. “And I
know I can say this to you, because you’ll get it. I’m not talking about the trouble
this means to me—them finding his body. It’s just, things were done, and now they’re
not. Even your question about a memorial. Dane wasn’t close with his adoptive parents.
He’d gotten in contact with his birth mother for the first time a couple of months
earlier, but nothing more seemed to come of it. It’s sad he’s gone, but being buried
on the mountainside was what he would have wanted if he’d had the choice.”

She shivered, and her eyes grew wide.

“Becki?”

“Thought I’d remembered something.” She stared across the table and sighed. “It’s
gone. I’m not sure what it was, but you need to know—last night I dreamed about the
accident again.”

“Figured you would.”

“I remembered the next part after that scene when things repeated all the time. Dane
fell and I got yanked upward. I rigged new lines to haul him up, but they failed.
I got dragged nearly off the cliff—” Becki shivered hard enough her body shook. She
lifted her tired gaze to meet his, sorrow and fear overwhelming her. “And that’s where
it ended. I had my knife ready, Marcus. And I was being pulled toward the ledge.”