Vivian Arend - High Risk

She stared him down. “Well, if you don’t like my teaching methods, you can take over. Or you can show up on time so we can discuss things first, and we’ll all be much happier.”

She spun on her heel and headed toward the showers.

“We’re not done,” Marcus snapped. “I’m supposed to train you. Help you work yourself back up to being safe on the wall.”

Her pace slowed before she rotated on one heel, arms crossed in front of her chest. “I don’t feel like climbing right now, thank you.”

“I don’t fucking care what you feel like. Gear up.” His roar echoed off the walls, made even louder by the fact that the shower had cut off.

Alisha stuck her head cautiously around the corner, water dripping from her hair. She glanced between the two of them. “Umm, everything okay?”

“Just a discussion of training methods.” Becki’s voice came out rational and calm. Light-years away from the maniacal asshole he must have sounded like. “Marcus. Wait for me in the gym, please.”

Great. He slammed out the door and paced the floor, fighting to bring his temper back under control. Slowing his breathing, making the effort to look around and consider what training he could possibly do with Becki that didn’t involve him tying her up and either spanking her ass or fucking her blind.

This wasn’t what he needed. Not today, not with pain still pulsing through his brain and his arm aching. Although, to be honest, usually after he’d experienced an episode, or whatever he wanted to call them, he’d be exhausted and pissed for days.

Now he was pissed, but strangely energized. He had enough in him to want to take Becki over his knees and—

“Bye, Marcus.” Alisha again, sneaking out of the change room with a towel still wrapped around her head, basically racing for the exit.

Now his team thought he was a raving lunatic. Awesome.

Marcus rubbed his temples, looking for some sort of miracle to give him enough strength to get through the next hour without throttling Becki. He went to where he’d dropped his gym bag, grabbed his prosthesis, and shoved it on, gritting his teeth at the sensation of the sleeve squeezing his stump. Doing up straps distracted him for long enough to realize she was taking a bloody long time getting ready.

He pushed open the change room door. “You coming out this century?”

No answer.

If she’d decided to blow him off and take a shower, he had no objections to taking his hand to her bare ass. He threw open the door and entered, looking around for where she’d hidden. Not in the change area. Not in the showers.

He felt like an idiot bending over in the bathroom to see if he could spot her feet in one of the toilet stalls. “Becki? You okay?”

The teeny wisp of concern that had started to weave its way into his anger evaporated as he noticed something by the open change room window blowing in the wind.

She’d left him a goddamned note taped to the wall.

Training today starts with a run. If you’re not too hungover/lazy/whatever the hell happened to you, run the Tunnel Mountain trail. Otherwise, call me tonight if you still want me to train your team.

Becki

Frustration still boiled. Pain hovered. But . . .

Marcus closed the window and bolted it. Then he went and exchanged his prosthesis for his running shoes.

Running took away the anger. It was difficult to hold on to fury when every ounce of focus was directed toward gasping for air and moving one leg after another. Smacking her feet into the ground was incredibly gratifying even though she knew she’d regret it later, her overenthusiastic clomps burning up energy she’d crave on the downward journey.

The trail zigzagged again and she turned the corner, lactic acid scorching her thighs as she pumped out another sprint of a dozen steps.

Marcus had the gall to show up after vanishing for three days, then give her shit for her training methods?

Screw him.

Okay, maybe she hadn’t gotten rid of all her frustrations yet, but after three days she’d built up a fine head of steam, and it was going to take a bit to let this go.

The climb was steep enough that she could push thinking out of her head. Concentrate on the trail. On the blood pumping through her veins. In her ears, a rhythm pulsated—her feet like drumbeats, her pulse a living accompaniment. Each intake of breath timed to settle between the thumps.

When she reached the first lookout she slowed to a walk, sucking in air and pacing slowly to settle her breathing. She wondered if Marcus would come after her.

She wondered if she’d be able to resist kicking him if he did.

Becki grabbed onto the railing and stretched, looking over the valley. The pine forests of the foothills created a carpet of green to contrast with the gray and black of the towering Rockies, snow still clinging to their peaks. The thin line of the Bow River cut through the distance, a sliver of shining silver winding back and forth like a ribbon. She couldn’t see the falls or the main parts of the town site. Far enough up and far enough away to feel as if she were alone in the bush.

The wilderness closing in around her.

A shiver of fear whispered over her skin that annoyed her far more than Marcus’s desertion over the past days.

She was not going to be defeated. And if Marcus couldn’t be trusted to come through and help her train, she’d find someone who could. Climbing had been such an important part of her life—yeah, she’d told Marcus she was trying to find new ways to be happy, but that was partly a lie.

She wanted to do new things, but she didn’t want to give up the old. Having everything she was renowned for torn from her grasp hurt. Everything that had meant something in her life—her position, her future . . .

Dane.

Another flash of pain struck her, and she actually hissed, twisting away from the railing and preparing to run the next section of trail. Ready to run to escape the hurt.

Marcus crested the hill and slowed to a walk, approaching cautiously. His gaze fixed on her, his face blank.

At least he didn’t look ready to commit murder anymore, as he had in the change room.

She stood her ground as she waited for him. He came all the way to a stop directly in front of her. Her arms crossed involuntarily. A barrier between them less formidable than their recent emotional confrontation.

Marcus looked her over, his chest moving heavily as he caught his breath. He’d left the prosthesis off, his long-sleeved shirt dampened with sweat in spite of the cooler temperatures. His hair had gone wild from the wind, or more probably from him dragging his hand through it as she’d seen him do a number of times.

There were dark shadows under his eyes, a thick layer of scruff on his chin and upper lip, and no matter how upset she was, she couldn’t help wonder what really had happened over the past days. David had been noncommittal other than giving assurances that Marcus was fine.

“You climbed out the window,” Marcus noted blandly.

“You were being a jerk,” she rejoined.

He snorted. “Yah, well, there’s nothing new in that. Not sure why you were surprised.”

“Because it was new,” she snapped, her concern flickering and ready to die away. “That’s not the man I signed up to spend time with. So if there’s a change in situation, let me know.”

She planned to turn, to hit the trail, when he caught her arm. “Becki. I’m sorry.”

Becki wavered. Part of her didn’t want to be generous and listen. “If I call bullshit right now, I suppose I’m not being very forgiving. But you want to tell me a little more specifically what you’re sorry for?”

“I shouldn’t have shouted at you,” he admitted. “I’m still mad, and we need to talk, because I get you’re upset as well. But I shouldn’t have raised my voice.”

She nodded slowly, fighting to resist sharing the internal dry commentary that noted the shouting was the least offensive part of the entire situation. Still, he was a man. That “sorry” would have cost him. She caved a little—the only area she was willing to accept he had a smidgen of a right to bitch about. “I wasn’t being careless with your team’s safety. I clearly went over the parameters of how and where they were allowed to move. And climbing a building is illegal only if you do it without permission.”

His lips twitched. “Or if it’s a world heritage site.”

“You’re never going to let me forget that incident, are you?”

His gaze heated, the staid, controlled man melting away as if memories of their nights of passion snapped to his mind as quickly as they did to hers.

Good grief. Maybe she should haul him back to her dorm room and get this out between them. The urge to strip naked was as bad as it had been seven years earlier, a pile of kindling ready to burst into an inferno.

Then thoughts of what she’d lost intruded, and the far more bitter memories of fear and terror wiped away all sexual lusts.

Dane was dead. Her memory was gone—except for the haunting dreams that had begun the night after she’d frozen on the wall. Nightmares that made her want to start running again and not stop until she was exhausted.

“Why are you looking like that?” Marcus asked, his fingers soft on her shoulder. “Becki? Are you okay?”

She took a deep breath, focusing on the ridge of clouds sneaking over the mountain range. The answer to that question was far too big a topic to break open on the side of a trail. “We should finish our workout before the weather changes.”

He withdrew his touch, staring at her silently. Becki twisted away under the guise of stretching to avoid having to meet his too-perceptive gaze any longer.

At least they weren’t ready to strangle each other anymore.

“Come on.” Becki tilted her head toward the trail. “Let’s burn off the rest of the gunk in our brains.”

Without a word, Marcus joined her.

Sharing the hard physical pain of a demanding workout was far easier than sharing the emotional turmoil inside.

* * *

He knew he should say something. Explain where he’d been, why he’d blown off training the past three days, but by the end of the run he was hurting so badly he could barely think. The entire time-delayed backlash from his episode hit at once, and he stumbled into the gym after Becki, all his concentration on putting one foot in front of the other.

Stars floated in front of his eyes as he lurched for the mats, hoping to get to them before he collapsed on the hard wooden flooring.

A cool cloth pressed against his face. Something rigid into his palm.

“Marcus. Drink.” Becki’s voice prodded him. She didn’t sound pissed anymore. That was good. He didn’t want her pissed at him.

The cool water slipped down his throat, easing the pain. Loosening the numbness until he could blink and glance around the room.

Becki squatted beside him, one hand resting on his shoulder. “You with me?”

Damn. “We taking turns blacking out now?”

“I don’t think you went anywhere, but you were a touch dazed.” She squeezed her fingers. “Now I’m the one who needs to apologize. I exploded like a crazy woman and assumed you blew off training for no good reason. That was wrong of me.”

He struggled to get the words out. He’d held them for so long it was difficult to actually come out and let someone other than David know. And why the urgent need to say anything now, to Becki, drove him, he wasn’t sure.

But he had to say something. “I have these . . . episodes every now and then. No warning, no idea how long they will last. They’re getting less frequent, though. That much is good.”

Her eyes widened. “Damn.”

Marcus shrugged. He took another few swallows before he cleared his throat. “So much for my superpowers.”

She settled back, stretching her legs in front of her. “Yeah, well. Looks like neither of us is quite who we used to be.”

He hadn’t been for a long, long time.

Marcus glanced over. There were shadows under her eyes and faint lines at the corners, but the signs of her sheer enthusiasm were also unmistakable. Her hopes of getting back into the world that had been torn from her. He couldn’t destroy that hope. Even though he’d discovered for himself there were some things you never recovered from, that didn’t mean she never could. And as long as there was hope, he would goddamn not let himself become a barrier to her dreams.