Becki checked out the pilot, surprised at the passion behind the words but not willing to make a scene.
Marcus laid a hand on Erin’s shoulder. “You needed a little unsettling. Think it worked?”
“Bastard.”
He laughed. “There, there, you can go home and sleep. After you finish the problems I’ve left you.”
Erin’s curses trailed from her lips the entire time she stomped across the floor toward where a small desk waited.
Marcus turned to Becki. “Fuel calculations for a dozen different scenarios. Estimating flight time and air capabilities.”
Sound logic. Making the pilot have to complete the challenge after a hard workout proved to both of them she could do the same in tough conditions. Becki approved, even though it was a harsh training technique.
She turned to Alisha. “What time did you get here?”
Alisha had her eyes closed as she leaned over her outstretched legs. “Get here to the gym, or what time did Mr. Diabolical get us out of bed? Because the phone rang at oh three hundred.”
Oh God. “Really?” Becki looked around at the group with a lot more understanding. “You’ve been up since three A.M.?”
Devon flashed her a tired grin. “Never went to bed. Tripp and I were still at the bar.”
Becki caught Marcus’s expression before he managed to get it under control. She stepped to his side and spoke quietly. “You are evil, aren’t you?”
He shrugged. “They’re getting paid to stay sharp. Sometimes it hurts when you put steel to the iron to sharpen it.”
He clapped his hands together. “Okay, break’s over. One last task for each of you, then you’re free until tomorrow.”
“What time?” Xavier asked. “Not that I’m suspicious now, or anything.”
“Seven A.M. for you, Tripp, Devon, and Alisha. Anders and Erin will be working at the field all day.”
Xavier nodded wearily. “What’s our final portion of poison?”
“Hit the pool,” Marcus ordered. “Sixteen hundred meters free, then eight hundred of your most hated—kick or pull. And stretch after.”
Devon smacked Xavier on the shoulder, and together with Tripp they headed toward the men’s change room, grumbling good-naturedly between themselves.
Alisha stood before them, clutching the towel draped around her neck. “Marcus—permission to do wall repeats instead? I’d like to make the upper body work as specific as possible.”
Marcus considered for a moment. “Fine. Use the auto-belayer. Down climb as well as up, got it?”
She nodded, twisting her face into a grimace. “Umm, Becki? You mind if I take a rain check on that climb together? I have a feeling I’ll have noodle arms before this is over.”
“No problem. There’s plenty of time.”
Marcus stepped closer as Alisha buckled on her climbing harness. “Becki is going to give you guys some training over the next while. What do you think?”
The young woman’s face lit up. “Really? Oh God, that is awesome. That makes up for having to ride in the back of an open pickup this morning.”
Becki couldn’t stop a burst of laughter from escaping. “What?”
Alisha stepped to the wall. “Didn’t he tell you? Calls at three, picks us up ten minutes later to take us to pack gear. Only he didn’t take us straight there, he drove us down the TransCanada for an hour before pulling into the hangar and making us prep in the dark.”
Becki stared at Marcus, not sure if she was ready for his methods.
“Don’t look at me like that. It can be cold in the back of the chopper flying to a drop site. They need to be ready.”
She couldn’t argue. “You are inspired, they’ve got to give you that much.”
Alisha tightened the locking carabiner on the rope. “He’d better not let any of us buy him coffee for a few days, because he’s not the only inspired one in the lot.”
Marcus snorted.
She placed her hands on the wall. “Ready, boss.”
“Get going.”
Becki straightened her spine as all his attention turned her way. She had to concentrate on the job, which meant tearing her gaze off Marcus and putting it back on the woman slipping smoothly up the wall. Becki analyzed Alisha’s choice of handholds, looking for areas to improve.
Alisha was damn good. It was still a training exercise, so she didn’t take the easiest path, yet she didn’t waver in her selections, either. Steady. Sure. Reach, weight transfer. Reach, extension. After five minutes it was pretty clear there was a reason this woman was Marcus’s lead hand.
“I’m going to be hard-pressed to improve her skills.” Becki spoke quietly, but she knew Marcus heard. He was right there, analyzing alongside her. The heat of his body brushing hers.
“I told you, I hire the best.” He laid his hand on her shoulder. The weight of it made something inside her tremble. She locked her legs tight to stop the instant impulse to go to her knees.
“Take my cock out and suck me.” He slipped his hand off, threading his fingers through her hair and tugging lightly. “I want to feel your lips around me. Want to see you open that sweet mouth and surround me until I can’t take another second. Blow my mind, Becki. Show me what you can do.”
She swallowed hard, lifting her arms to fold them in front of her. Defense against her urges, a way to hide how quickly her body reacted to the merest whisper of a memory.
“Why don’t you belt up? I’ll belay you,” Marcus offered.
Becki cleared her throat, keeping her gaze on Alisha’s careful descent. “If you want, I can belay you.”
“Didn’t bring the right attachment.” Marcus stepped to the side, his hand casually stroking her arm and causing more knee-jerk reactions in her core. “I have the claw. I can belay.”
Anything to get her blood pumping for some reason other than standing too close to him. She nodded and went for her gym bag. By the time she was hooked up, Marcus had returned, his prosthesis strapped in place.
Remembering his words from earlier—that it was better to simply look than steal peeks—she walked right up, stopping in front of him.
“You want to show me how that works?”
“Like an arm.”
Jeez. Fine, if he wanted to be like that. “Yeah, because I have metal pinchers at the ends of both my limbs. Come on, Marcus.”
He laughed and lifted his elbow in front of her, forearm held parallel to her face. She caught hold of his bicep and followed the strapping that looped over his shoulder with her fingers. “High-tensile webbing?”
“Strong as what you’ve got in your harness. Double loop system, so if one fails there’s time to bail before the second gives. Bar a freak accident where both straps get cut simultaneously, the system is bombproof.”
She’d reversed her exploration already, passing over his elbow and examining the actual prosthesis. “Does it hurt? When you use the—what did you call it? Claw?”
“Sometimes there’s a kind of achy pressure. Phantom pain gets me more often, or plain old soreness from the stump in the socket. I fell once and bruised it hard, but no worse than any fall I’d taken previously. Like spraining a wrist or bruising the ball of your palm—hurts like a bitch.” Marcus pulled his arm back slightly before closing the dual metal fingers at the end around her wrist. “It took time to learn control, but I can handle rope. If you want, we can double-rope you, put you on a backup—”
“Don’t be stupid.” It was her turn to be indignant. “You said I was nuts to think I’d lost skills. If you say you’re competent, I trust you.”
She grabbed a top rope, tossing one end at him, and focused on getting her figure-eight knot completed.
Alisha hit the ground, ten feet down the wall from them. Her ponytail had worked loose, strands of hair hanging in front of her eyes. “Done.”