Uh-oh. That was what the guys had been talking about the day before. Becki wondered how Devon was going to explain this one.
“Alisha.” Devon patted her shoulder. “It’s not like that—”
“Don’t bother with the excuses.” She twisted her way out from under his touch, crossing her arms and lifting her chin in defiance. “I wasn’t interested in taking part anyway, but you’re still a jerk.”
Alisha spun on her heel and slipped away. Devon stared after her with something near hopeless adoration on his face. There was a good chance Erin had been right about Alisha and Devon being attracted to each other, at least on Devon’s part.
“Your trick backfire?” Becki asked, stepping in closer so she could speak without being overheard.
He shook himself alert and glanced in her direction. “What’s that? Oh, yeah. Well, it wasn’t really a trick.” Devon examined the area, but no one was looking their way. “Ted was shooting off his mouth the other day about what a hot bod Alisha had, and it was right after that when the idea of bringing a cameraman along became a part of the interview.”
Good grief. “Where did you hear . . . ?” No. Lecturing Devon was not a part of her responsibilities. Only, it was, now that she’d been working with them. “Clearly, changing plans to protect Alisha from the big bad wolves without her knowledge isn’t the way to earn brownie points.”
Devon nodded slowly, watching Alisha as she carried the supplies out the door to the chopper. “Obviously. Only Ted didn’t really do anything wrong, and it’s not like I have the right to say anything.”
God, it was like being back in middle school again. She wanted to fluff his hair, he was so damn cute. “Well, if you’re going to get the girl, you’re going to have to work a little harder now, aren’t you?”
Devon blinked in surprise. “Get the girl? . . . Oh.”
Becki snorted. “If you’re trying to hide your interest in Alisha, you’re doing it wrong.”
Devon flashed his hundred-watt smile, and she wondered why Alisha seemed to be trying to avoid him. He was somewhat addictive, if you liked them sweet.
Marcus stepped back into the building, and the rush of hormones that hit clearly indicated her tastes ran much more to the savoury. The dark and dangerous. He didn’t walk, he prowled, and every nerve tingled in response, which was both lovely and frightening.
He stopped by her side and looked her over carefully. “You ready for this?”
Another shudder of upset roiled through her stomach, and she fought to keep it under control. Maybe her current case of nerves had nothing to do with the sexual tension between them. “I think so.”
Becki turned toward the chopper and took a deep breath.
She could have been climbing the gallows for how enthusiastically she moved. Marcus glanced around the passenger seats to double-check that all the team were ready before crawling into the back with Becki.
They found their places in the smaller jump seats, the space around them dark and windowless. It didn’t do much good for his nerves, but this wasn’t about him, but about Becki and helping her take the next step. She buckled in, and he managed his own straps, both of them reaching for the headsets hanging on the wall.
The solid hum of the props was blocked by the headset he slipped on, clicking the transceiver to channel two. He held up his fingers to indicate the number to Becki. She clicked her own button before catching hold of the chest straps and white-knuckling them.
“The rest of the team is on channel four. I told them to stay off this line. You need anything, let me know.”
She nodded rapidly even as she attempted to slow her breathing through her nose, lips sealed into a thin line.
Marcus cursed the fates that had taken this woman and torn her apart so hard. The fear in her eyes and the tension in her body—she hadn’t done anything to deserve the torment, and he wanted so badly to make it better. To take the fear from her.
All he could do was be there as much as she allowed him, and staying behind the limits she seemed to have built in the past day was killing him.
“Okay to go?” Marcus laid his hand on her thigh. He didn’t know if she needed it, but he damn well did.
Becki’s head snapped up, her gaze darting off whatever point on which she’d focused on the ground, and she nodded agreement, still without speaking.
Terror hovered in her eyes, and he nearly called the entire trip off. She must have seen what he planned, or sensed it. Becki slapped at her speaker button and shakily answered him. “Ready for takeoff.”
Maybe her voice was unsteady, but her expression dared him to do anything but let her try. He signaled Erin to go ahead, his gaze focused intently on Becki.
He’d abort the lift in a second if needed.
The buzz of the props increased even through the protective headset. Becki swallowed hard but otherwise didn’t move as the pressure changed and the floor beneath them angled slightly as Erin took them skyward.
Becki’s nostrils flared as she breathed in, eyes closing. Under his hand her leg quivered, and he squeezed lightly.
She caught hold of his fingers, and his heart leapt. Her firm grip remained for about a twenty count as he breathed with her. Willing her to be able to take the trip. Praying for her to be able to get back the control she so wanted.
It took five minutes before anything changed. Her eyes remained squeezed shut, but her death grip loosened. Marcus breathed easier. With every moment that passed, they got closer to the drop site. If they could get off the chopper without her having a panic attack, it would make the next time that much smoother.
At least that was what he’d found. Success bred success.
The helicopter shook briefly, probably caught in an eddy around one of the mountains, and Marcus cursed as Becki choked. She scrambled for the bag he’d discreetly tucked beside her and lost her breakfast.
The override broke through his headset as Erin spoke. “Sorry, boss, the cross turbulence caught me by surprise. How bad was it back there?”
Becki was white-faced and shaking, clinging to the arms of her chair with the bag propped between her legs. She looked miserable, but she wasn’t screaming in terror.
“Estimated time to arrival?” he demanded.
“Ten minutes to hover site,” Erin snapped back.
“Put us down first, then you can lift and do the drops for the crew.”
“Shit. Affirmative.” Erin clicked on briefly. “Sorry.”
Marcus tapped Becki on the back of her hand with the hankie he’d stuck in his pocket in case of this event. She clutched it and, to his amazement, smiled slightly. She wiped her mouth, grimacing the entire time.
When she clicked the intercom, the disgust in her voice was clear. “You got any water?”
He pointed beside her seat. She leaned over warily and snatched up a bottle, rinsing and spitting the first couple of mouthfuls into the bag before gingerly rolling the top and tucking it aside.
She caught his eye and shook her head in derision.
Marcus raised his brow. “Is this a good time to mention that I threw up on the feet of the first nurse who tried to sweet-talk me after my operation?”
She blew out a long breath, balancing herself. “Classy.”
“I thought so.” He indicated her bottle, and she obediently sipped at it. “Nearly there. You’re doing well.”
Becki met his gaze and forced a smile. “I know. Although I hope you brought more bags, because I have a feeling the trip home might not go so smoothly.”
“You can listen in on the crew line if you want to be distracted for a bit.”