“Outside.”
“Oh, that’s helpful. We’re in the middle of a one-and-a-half-million-acre national park. It’s damn big outside, Becki. How about a more specific clue?”
“You’re the goddamn search-and-rescue ace, so search.”
The line went dead, and he swore. Stomped out the gym doors to start a calculated hunt.
He found them at the far end of the building. Or more accurately, he found them on the far end of the building. Running across the roof. Marcus bit back the shout that wanted to escape, ordering them all to the ground.
Couldn’t interrupt like that, not only because it wasn’t safe. Frightening one of them into a wrong move could send them tipping toward the earth—no crash mats, no protective gear.
He was going to find Becki and rip her a new one for whatever the hell game she was playing with his team.
He was spotted before he took more than two paces into their line of sight. Tripp’s call was followed by brief waves from the squad before they ignored him and continued moving forward, the entire group bunched up and hanging on to each other.
Marcus hurried his step, trying not to stomp like some pissed-off juvenile. He got to the edge of the parking lot in time to observe them forming a human chain, lowering Tripp from the top of the two-story building to the narrow flat-topped roof over the entrance doors to the gym. With him acting as anchor, one by one the team crawled their way to the ground. Alisha was the last to be lowered, dropping from his hands into the outstretched reach of Devon.
She settled against him for a second, face to face, before they flew apart like two positive magnetic charges. They jerked around to gaze intently back at Tripp, last man on the building.
He made as if to jump, and Becki sang out, “Forget it. You want to start all over? Don’t be impatient and blow it now.”
Marcus hadn’t seen her, leaning against the smooth wood of a birch as she stared at Tripp, glancing at her stopwatch.
Xavier and Anders rushed forward and formed a cradle with their arms. Alisha stepped into it and stood, instantly lifted high enough to catch hold of Tripp’s fingers as the man reached down from his sitting position.
Somehow they pulled him off the roof and caught them both, Tripp changing places with Alisha, Devon there to help them both to the ground, like some intricate cheerleading routine. The five of them rushed forward to tag the tree Becki leaned on.
She clicked off the stopwatch and sighed heavily, totally ignoring Marcus as he stomped over to join their circle.
“No. Please, no—tell me we did it faster this time,” Xavier groaned.
The others added their pleas, Anders dropping to sit next to Devon in a heap. “If we messed up again, I’d like to suggest something easy instead. Like a five-mile run.”
Becki spun the stopwatch around, and they all leaned forward to peer at it.
Their shrieks of delight nearly drowned out her words.
“Good job. You’re done. Showers, stretch, and tomorrow I’ll let you play with ropes.”
“Thanks, Becki,” Alisha called, already racing toward the change room doors. “Hi, Marcus. We missed you.”
Sure they had. The team scattered quickly enough he managed to contain his anger until the last one was gone.
Becki grabbed her bag from her feet, turning without a word toward the building.
“Oh no, you don’t walk away from me without telling me what the hell you were doing with my team.”
“Training them,” Becki shouted over her shoulder as she kept going.
“They were on the fucking roof with no gear.”
Becki planted a hand on the door handle and tossed him an evil glare. “They were never allowed to be more than two feet from another team member any time they moved. They were each other’s protective gear. They were being a team, which, if you had been here at the start, you would have known was the goal of the session.” She bolted through the door before he could stop her.
He was going to go out of his goddamn mind.
Marcus jerked the handle to discover she’d locked it. By the time he’d dug in his pocket and found the correct key to open the stupid thing, she’d disappeared. The gym was completely empty.
He marched across to the women’s change room and stormed in.
Becki turned from the lockers and dropped her fists to her hips. “Excuse me? Get out. Alisha is showering.”
“Climbing the outside of buildings is illegal and dangerous. I thought you’d gotten that kind of immature stunt out of your system years ago.”
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.