High Risk by Vivian Arend Page A

done, at least with me. Check your schedule
     for the rest of the day, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    Marcus waited until the gym was empty, the gear put away as the crew left one by one.
     “I’m still applauding. That was damn impressive.”
    Becki blew a sigh of relief. “That . . . is reassuring. I’m a little lost right now,
     feeling my way, and I don’t want to mess this up.”
    “Training my team?”
    “That, and the teaching gig in a month for David. Just—starting a new life in a way.”
     She laughed, bitterness in the sound. “A new life because there’s still so damn many
     holes in the old one, I can’t walk forward without falling out the bottom.”
    “Hey.” Marcus caught her by the arm. “You go on and listen to your own lecture. You
     don’t have to do this alone. I said I’d help you. The team will help you.”
    She paused. Nodded. “You’re right. You’re right, and I said I was going to face the
     future and move on. Damn yo-yo emotions.”
    “Girl stuff. Can’t help you there.”
    Another laugh escaped her. “Don’t be an ass.”
    “What?” He slapped her on the shoulder lightly, guiding her toward the offices. “In
     the interest of teamwork, I have a suggestion. We talked yesterday about the schedule
     for training Lifeline. How about we do the same for our training sessions, so you
     have that in place?”
    Becki looked him over with a wide-eyed wonder, as if she were surprised he hadn’t
     also spouted off some sexual innuendo, as he’d done at every other opportunity up
     to now.
    “If you’re serious, that would be wonderful. Occasionally doing things last minute
     is fun, but I like being organized. Thank you.”
    He ignored the sexual side of the equation for a moment. Taking advantage of the attraction
     between them seemed a very . . . selfish . . . thing. After her sermon on the matter,
     perhaps focusing on the teamwork they needed was the right thing to do.
    At least for now. He still planned on getting them back into bed. On trapping all
     her wild energy and excitement, and soaking in it. But not today.
    Agendas didn’t have to be abandoned. Sometimes they could simply be delayed.

CHAPTER 10

    The phone rang.
    Marcus ignored it.
    His cell phone rang, and he let it go to messages.
    The curtains were drawn, the room was dark, and he wanted to crawl under something
     and hide.
    The fact that he had heard the ring was probably a good sign. Only probably, because
     along with awareness of the pain came the realization that while it was dark in the
     room, there was light sneaking around the edges of the curtains. Daytime—no interior
     lights on—and together that could only mean one thing.
    His ghosts had taken over. Now the question was, how long had he been gone this time?
    The landline rang again. He reached over the edge of the couch to the side table,
     picked up the receiver, thumbed the mute button, and slammed the phone back on the
     table.
    The pounding in his head was nothing new. He dimly remembered that searing pain in
     his left hand had woken him in the middle of the night—and wasn’t that just fucking
     great? That something that wasn’t even there anymore could still hurt that damn much.
    Marcus grabbed a drink from the fridge and dropped back onto the couch, stared at
     the shadows on the walls, and waited for the darkness inside to go away.
    He wasn’t sure how long he sat there. Minutes? Hours?
    The front door opened.
    He moved instinctively. The crash of the bottle hitting the door frame sang out the
     same moment his brother swore.
    “Shit, stop. It’s me. David. What the hell?”
    God.
He didn’t want to explain ever again. Didn’t want to talk. Marcus grabbed the arm
     of the couch and held on for dear life. “Get out.”
    David was already stooping to pick up the broken glass from the floor. “No can do.
     You’ve been MIA for three full days. According to our agreement, I’m allowed to come
     kick your butt at