by Vivian Arend
Marcus tapped on the table to get their attention. “Okay, put your speculation about the Banff SAR school aside. I have news.”
“Raises?” Erin teased.
“Actually, yes.” Marcus waited until the hooting and hollering died down. “You’re a horde of wild animals this morning. What the hell did you have for breakfast?”
“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 my business 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, but then, being annoying was his usual ploy to distract her from the truth. “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. Facebook. 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?”
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 in his chair, his expression full of pride. “Did you hear back from that rescue we did up at Twin 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.”
“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. Last year you won awards. 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 ate at him. “Enough cheerleading, Marcus. I want to see what’s on the treasure map.”
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, pointing to markers and commenting on the toughest parts of the rescue they remembered, or the most memorable.
“This is like a 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’ll 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?”
“Pacific rescues have been added to our list. With cutbacks to the government, donors decided to chip in to make sure we keep our nonprofit work going. We’re now on call to assist with 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. “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.
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 oversized envelope. “Try a man in every port. You’ll have a chopper on the island to access—we’ll add 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 in Banff.”
Erin danced in her chair as she pulled out a manual.
Tripp and Xavier were debating which of them would get to drop from the new chopper first. Devon laughed, then glanced across at Alisha to see her response.
She stared at the map, her pasted-on smile 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 were over that fixation after the time you got stuck in the kayak.”
He laughed. “That was a long time ago, and say what you will, it was a blast.”
She raised a brow. “Oh, yeah, so much fun as we hauled the entire kayak out of the pool on a winch system. I still have the newspaper report. The one with you as front-page news.”
“Hey, when you got it, flaunt it. The Banff Crag and Canyon needed my extraordinary good looks to peak sales that week.”
“So giving.” Alisha made a face 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 what upgrades the pilot was allowed to get on the larger, brighter, faster helicopter.
Devon . . .
He watched.
Like he always watched, especially Alisha.
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 around for the past four years.
She should have been vibrating in her seat, asking a million questions. Usually her reactions would have driven him crazy 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.
Curiosity drove him, as did the need to get them to the next stage of the game. Which meant he needed to find out what the hell was wrong.
So he could fix it.
She’d shot him down once, a long time ago. Probably didn’t even remember she’d told him to grow up and get a life. To stop goofing around and wasting his opportunities.
The cutdown had actually sunk in, and he’d decided to do just that. Done it so well, in fact, that her taunt had changed his future.
It was time for a little positive payback and an end to their sexual frustration. He was going to find out what had put that sadness behind her eyes. Find out, and help her deal with it.
No turning back.
CHAPTER 2
After years of reacting instantly to all kinds of life-and-death situations, Alisha thought she was beyond panicking without proof. The trembling in her hands proved otherwise.
It was the one topic guaranteed to throw her over the edge, though.
Somehow she got through the rest of the meeting. Smiled and nodded in all the correct spots, and kept her concern to herself. She’d fooled everyone in the room other than maybe Devon, who had her fixed in his gaze every time she took her eyes off Marcus. She slipped out of Lifeline headquarters ahead of the team and was in her car headed home before she could be invited for lunch, or a workout, o
r whatever else they came up with.
The short trip from the industrial area where their SAR base was located to her apartment wasn’t enough time to distract her. The summer had been incredible—in that, Marcus had been correct. It wasn’t only the successful rescues. Alisha had been a member of Lifeline for two and a half years now, and this was the first summer she’d felt she’d grown closer to all the members. Even Erin seemed to more than tolerate her, although the prickly woman often wore an expression of amusement as they did things.
Being a part of something as exciting and big as Lifeline was what Alisha had wanted from the start, and she’d become more successful than she’d dreamed possible.
Wasn’t all you wanted to achieve . . .
Alisha stormed into the tiny kitchen and grabbed herself a glass of juice, ignoring the urge to go fill a cart with nothing but junk food so she could have a nice pity party.
She wandered to the window and stared over the street, the uneven rooftops and towering pines turning even the civilized city into a kind of wilderness. Inside, the rustic roof timbers and her thrift shop furniture added to the surreal effect. This inelegant setting was home, vastly different from what had been home for so many years.
Alisha flopped onto the couch and pulled out her phone. She tapped in the familiar number and waited to run the gauntlet.
“Mr. Bailey’s office. How can I help you?” The words snapped out. Crisp. Cold. The woman hadn’t cracked a smile in all the years Alisha had known her.
“Hello, Marilee. It’s Alisha. May I please speak with my father?”
“Alisha.”
No So good to hear from you, or How are you doing? but Alisha hadn’t expected more than polite distance. Efficiency was the name of the game, after all.
Marilee finally continued, “He’s in a meeting, but as soon as he’s done I’ll have him call you. Did you need me to arrange anything else? I haven’t received your response regarding flights for Thanksgiving.”
Drat. She’d been avoiding answering that particular e-mail as long as possible. “I’m afraid I still don’t know my schedule for early October yet. I’ll have a decision made within the week.”
“Very good.” In spite of the words, Marilee’s tone dripped with disapproval. It was hard to not laugh. Alisha knew very well which of them had Marilee’s loyalty—her or her father. “Thank you for calling.”
The loud click triggered images of the perfectly coiffured secretary slamming down the phone hard enough to crack the case flitted to mind. Not that anyone in Bailey Enterprises would ever act out of line, but it was fun to picture.
Alisha shoved her phone in her pocket and went to deal with her workout gear, double-checking that her emergency clothing stash was in place. If she was called on short notice to work a rescue, searching for socks was the last thing she wanted to waste time on.
In some areas being efficient was necessary, but her family took it to ridiculous extremes, especially outside the office doors.
Enough moping about her father, at least until he called. Alisha turned up the music and poked through the fridge, but nothing looked interesting. Nor the cupboards. She’d lost her appetite during the morning meeting, and it seemed there wasn’t much of a chance to get it back soon.
Coastal rescues? The advancement was a huge honour, and definitely something to celebrate, but would her family even register that the team had set another milestone?
Frustration flared again, this time at herself as much as them.
By now she should know better than to expect accolades, or even a brief hurrah. That the longing for approval still rose seemed cruel.
The phone rang and she checked the screen, almost hoping for a SAR call to pull her away from having to speak with him.
No such luck.
“Hello?”
“Your father will speak with you now.” Marilee put Alisha on hold to make the connection.
Because heaven help it if Mike Bailey had to wait on the line for a moment or two, even to talk with his own daughter.
“Alisha. It’s about time you made your Thanksgiving plans.” His soft-spoken tone hid his stubbornness. What he called willfulness when she displayed the same tenacity.
Well, she wasn’t ready to cave. “I’m not sure yet that a trip east will work with my schedule. I didn’t call about that, I called to find out if you’d been making donations to the Banff SAR school or Lifeline.”
“The corporation makes donations to all sorts of worthy causes, Alisha. I’d have to check the records—”
“Please do. I specifically asked you to stay out of my business here in Banff. I’d like to confirm you’re honouring that agreement.”
Her father’s sigh echoed through the speaker. “I promised not to interfere, and honestly, as far as I know, no, Bailey Enterprises has not made a donation to your old school or Lifeline. Even though I’d imagine they’d enjoy receiving one.”
“They probably would, only there are enough rich pockets to scoop into without diving into yours. I need this to be my—”
“Yes, Alisha. You want to do it on your own. Fine. You did. You’re now a climber and ski bum instead of part of the family business. It seems to make you happy, so good for you.”
The really sad thing, he wasn’t being sarcastic. Just out of touch and oblivious, as usual. “I am happy here. By the way, Lifeline is now the premier search-and-rescue team for all of western Canada.”
“It’s . . . fine. Good for you,” he repeated. Distraction blurred his voice.
Her father was no doubt simultaneously signing paperwork as Marilee placed it before him, unable to stop and listen to his only daughter for five minutes. He’d never allow himself to be that unfocused if she were a business contact with real important news.
“Yes, it is good. In fact, it’s incredible.” The idea of an expanded territory thrilled her and sent shivers down her spine at the same time. Wasn’t it enough to impress him? “I got a raise.”
He actually laughed, and bitter frustration rushed her as he stomped on her wishful dreams. “Well, now you can afford your fancy lifestyle, can’t you? Alisha, enjoy yourself. Get it all out of your system so when you come home next summer we don’t have to put up with more of your gallivanting.”
There was a point in every conversation with her father when Alisha’s blood pressure got too high to continue. This was five minutes past when she should have given up. “I don’t think I’ll make it home for Thanksgiving this year. Tell Mom I said hello, and I’ll e-mail her soon.”
Alisha didn’t wait for his farewell. Best-case scenario, he would offer platitudes in an attempt to smooth the conversation over. Worst case would be an attack, shaming her for her lack of feminine compliancy.
She paced through the tiny attic space, feet unwilling to stop, her furious energy needing some outlet of escape. She fidgeted with everything she passed as she walked in circles.
She wanted to scream. Wanted to throw things. Wanted to beat her body into submission with another workout, but that was unreasonable. It would be stupid to punish herself when her father was the one who should be apologizing.
Although the one positive from their discussion—ha! discussion—he didn’t seem to have tossed the money their direction. Not that she wanted Banff SAR to go without funding, but having her father dump money on them would only add to the pain of fighting for her position and standings. People found it hard enough to believe she’d achieved what she had on her own. If it were discovered that Daddy Dearest had poured money into the school coffers, even now after she was gone, all her accomplishments would be suspect. She could have the fastest times on the stopwatch and gossips would still believe she’d bought her way into the placements. And her current job.
Her job—a member of an elite, highly trained, kick-ass rescue squad. Thank you very much.
She growled her frustration at the walls. It was no use. She wasn’t going to be able to relax, not for a while.
A visit to Tim
Hortons to nab an entire box of doughnuts was looking far too attractive. She needed a diversion. In spite of the clouds hanging low over the mountains, she grabbed her hiking boots and yanked them on. Maybe if she burned off a little steam, visions of using the toe of her boot to kick some sense into her father would stop dancing through her head.
She grabbed her emergency gear bag and trundled down the stairs to her car.
* * *
His curiosity got the better of him. There might be other ways to find out what he needed, but the first solution that came to mind was the simplest.
The sneakiest as well, but whatever.
Sneaky required Devon to wait until the rest of the team had left headquarters. Alisha was gone in a flash—again, atypical for her. The others poked around for a while. Chatting, teasing, and carrying on. Xavier flirted with the new part-time call-centre-worker-slash-receptionist before leaving with a shouted challenge at Tripp for darts that evening.
The newest employee Marcus had hired to Lifeline, Lana, had arrived in the middle of their meeting, gliding past the giant boardroom table to hide out of the way in the administration area. The dark-haired woman had worked silently through all the discussion and recaps and the planning for the team’s shoulder-season training and rescue setups. After the meeting she continued her tasks, nodding attentively while Marcus gave directions for ordering new materials.
Devon ignored her as he wandered through headquarters in a deliberately casual manner. Lana would work with Marcus during emergencies to gather information, and the rest of the time she would play a more relaxed administration role. It was a position that required someone trained in search and rescue but not one who joined the team physically on the field.
Marcus had made Lifeline HQ into an environment that was both efficient and relaxing, but it wasn’t Devon’s choice of hangouts. He’d prefer to head home, hit the gym, or call up a couple of his buds and see if they were free. As it was, for over an hour he found tasks to keep him busy. Organizing gear, straightening supplies. There wasn’t any problem finding reasons to stick around.
