High Risk (35 page)

“I don’t know what she ate, but Alisha went climbing over a gym rat.” Tripp held his
hands up in surprise as Alisha whirled on him in exasperation. “Well, you did, right?”

“How is it my business is all over this town in less than an hour?” She glared across
the table at Devon.

He hated how quickly she looked at him to be the cause of her troubles. He shook his
head. “Don’t blame me. I have better things to do than gossip about your choice of
workout equipment.”

“Nah, it wasn’t Devon.” Tripp held up his phone and showed Alisha the screen. Her
face grew red as she stared.

Devon grabbed Tripp’s wrist and pulled the phone to himself to look. Someone had taken
a picture of Alisha and Photoshopped it so she appeared to be climbing over King Kong.

“Enough.” Marcus shook his head. “Bunch of children, all of you. You want the news,
or should I take you to the nearest playground for a while?”

Only, his grin remained firmly in place. Marcus knew the truth. The teasing and joking—it
was all part of dealing with the stress of life-and-death decisions. They played hard,
they worked even harder.

Marcus looked them over one by one as he spoke. “It’s been a good summer, guys. I’m
proud of you and the way you’ve operated. There have been a couple of nasty situations
we had to deal with, and you pulled together and made it happen. Thank you.”

Goofing aside, Tripp relaxed back in his chair, pride on his face. “Did you hear back
from that rescue we did up at Takkakaw Falls? Did the dad pull through?”

“He did.” Marcus gestured down the table. “And that’s what I mean about good work.
That man would be dead without you. All of you, working together. The family would
have lost their dad, a woman her husband.”

“It’s what we signed up to do.” Xavier shrugged.

“It’s what we love to do,” Alisha corrected.

“And it makes a difference. Don’t ever forget it. You might have won awards last year.
This year, you quietly did your job, and got it done. So again, thank you.”

“Easier without the media in our bloody faces all the time, anyway,” Erin muttered.
She focused on the roll, giving it a poke. “I take it your secret news has something
to do with this?”

Devon agreed. Curiosity was eating at him. “Enough cheerleading, Marcus. I want to
see what’s on the roll.”

Marcus gestured. “Go for it.”

Eager hands reached forward and unrolled the paper, securing the edges in place.

“A map of western Canada?” Alisha tilted her head. “Oh, cool. You’ve marked the locations
of our rescues.”

Everyone leaned in then, pointing to markers and commenting on the toughest parts
of the rescue they remembered, or the most memorable.

“This is like some kind of scrapbook, Marcus.” Erin eyed him. “Who knew you had it
in you?”

He grinned. “Becki’s idea.”

“Go, Becki.” Alisha dragged a finger over the mountain range to the east of Banff.
“It’s an awesome idea.”

“And, what’s more exciting? We’re going to have markers in a much wider range over
the coming months and years. This is my news.” Marcus leaned over the table and laid
his forearms on a section of the map, his prosthetic left hand on the divider line
between Saskatchewan and Alberta, his right arm down the center of British Columbia.
“This, to date, has been our corridor. Now?”

He opened his arms wider and settled his right hand off the coast of Vancouver Island.

“Holy shit.” Erin leaned forward. “We’re taking over coastal duties as well?”

“Pacific rescues have been added to our list. With cutbacks to the government, we’re
now on call for any extreme situation between here and Port Tofino. As far north as
needed.”

A thrill of excitement shot through Devon. “Does this mean I get to break out the
scuba suit a bit more often?”

Marcus nodded. “Probably in coordination with naval SAR, but yes. Your reputation
as a guppy is now official.”

The grin stretching his cheeks felt awesome. Devon glanced at his teammates, pleased
to see the same thrill on their faces that he felt at the news.

Erin waved a hand in Marcus’s direction. “Does this mean you’re getting me a bigger,
better chopper? Because those are some long-ass hauls you’re talking about.”

Marcus tossed her an envelope. “Try a man in every port. You’ll have a chopper on
the island to access—we’re adding a plane to the team here in Banff. And yes”—he caught
her with her mouth still open—“you get a bigger bird to base here.”

Erin danced in her chair as she pulled out a manual and paperwork.

Tripp and Xavier were arguing about which one of them would get to drop from the new
chopper first. Devon laughed, then looked across at Alisha to see what her response
was.

She stared at the map, a smile pasted on her face that was so fake he could have peeled
it off and put it on the shelf. “Alisha?”

She blinked at him before shaking off the cloud. “You and your scuba suit. I thought
you’d gotten over that fixation the time you got stuck in the kayak.”

He laughed. “That was five years ago, and say what you will, it was a blast.”

She raised a brow. “Oh, so much fun as we hauled the entire kayak out of the pool
on a winch system. I think I still have the newspaper report. The one with you as
front-page news.”

“Hey, when you got it, flaunt it.
Banff Crag and Canyon
needed my extraordinary good looks to peak sales that week.”

“So giving.” Alisha made a face at him as she rose to her feet, taking her empty glass
with her. “Marcus, I need a refill.”

Their boss waved her off, busy arguing with Erin about exactly what upgrades the pilot
was allowed to get on the larger, brighter, faster helicopter.

Devon . . .

He watched.

Like he always watched, especially Alisha.

In the last five minutes something had gone wrong. The tension in her body as she’d
walked away? The lack of gushing at Marcus’s big news? That wasn’t the Alisha he’d
been obsessing over for the past five years.

She should have been vibrating in her seat, asking a million questions. Usually her
reactions would have made him crazy with need as she poked and teased in what he’d
come to consider the longest foreplay session in the fucking universe.

Walking away quietly? Something was beyond wrong. All the little clues he’d been putting
together over the past months were there, gathered in a heap. Now he had to find a
way to sort them out. Make them into sense so he could know what the hell was wrong
with Alisha.

So he could fix it.

She’d shot him down once, a long time ago. Probably didn’t even remember that she’d
told him to grow up and get a life. To stop goofing around and wasting his opportunities.

He’d done that, so well, in fact, that his life had changed, and whether she was ready
for it or not, he was more than ready for her.

He was going to find out what had put that fear behind her eyes. Find out, and help
her deal with it.

No turning back.