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, or 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.