High Risk by Vivian Arend Page B

this point.”
    Shit. Three days meant Thursday. Still, he wasn’t ready to move. “I can throw something
     else at you if you want. I’m changing the goddamn rules. Get out. Now.”
    David laughed, the glass echoing as it hit the sides of the metal garbage can, sending
     shards of pain through Marcus’s temples. “Nice try. I’m not listening.”
    He came and sat on the coffee table directly in front of Marcus.
    Marcus’s jaw ached from grinding his teeth. He glared at David, hoping his expression
     alone would be enough to persuade his brother to turn and walk away.
    David raised a brow. “Interesting. Does the caveman-slash-madman look work well on
     women?”
    “Fuck. You.” Marcus dragged his hand through his hair, then changed his mind, pointing
     at the door instead. “I’m not ready for an intervention. Tomorrow.”
    David’s cocky smile faded, replaced with sympathy. “Look, normally I’d leave you alone.
     I understand you have . . . issues. But this time is different. No extensions. Deal
     with it.”
    “Dammit, David.”
    “She’s threatening to come over here.”
    Marcus stopped cold. “Who?”
    “Becki. When you didn’t show up at training a couple days back, I covered for you.
     Hoped you’d be out of your funk quicker than usual. This time you have to choose to
     drag yourself back to the real world, bro. Once I assured her you weren’t deathly
     sick or something, she got royally pissed. She’s ready to kick my ass, your ass. Hell,
     she’s been kicking your team’s ass—you might want to consider pulling yourself together
     for their sake.”
    “What the hell has she been doing with the team?” He slid forward in his seat.
    David hesitated, then spat it out. “She’s kind of taken them over. You had all the
     rest of their training organized, but when you didn’t show up, she stepped in and
     has been running the show. She thinks you jammed out on her. Something about missing
     training plans, and ignorant assholes . . . and there was more, but I was trying to
     keep far enough away from her that she couldn’t hit me, so I might have missed a few
     of the more choice swear words.”
    Marcus laughed before he realized what he was doing. Her actions were twisted enough
     to break through the pain. Only Becki.
    David nodded. “I thought that might get your attention. Come on. I get it that you
     need time, but grab a shower. I’ll make you some food. You need to get moving or don’t
     blame me when Genghis Khan shows up here to haul you out to the training centre.”
    The idea of anyone calling sweet Becki terrible names was funny as shit. “In spite
     of the fact I still feel like crap, fine. I’ll be there.”
    His brother stood and pulled him off the couch, shoving him toward the back of the
     house. “Shower. You’re currently the nearest thing Canada’s got to a nuclear meltdown
     situation.”
    “Get the fuck out. I can wash my own ass.” Marcus paused in the doorway to his bedroom
     to confirm that his brother hadn’t followed him or did something stupid. Fortunately,
     David had headed to the kitchen and was ignoring him. “You’re a bloody pain, you know
     that?”
    “Dickhead,” David shouted back easily. “God, what died in your fridge?”
    Marcus retreated to the shower. His head still throbbed, but his curiosity was high
     enough to drag himself out of the house. After he’d shoveled in whatever David managed
     to drop before him.
    He hadn’t tasted a thing, too intent on discovering what kind of punishment he would
     have to take for disappearing without an explanation. Because he had a feeling Becki
     hadn’t liked it one bit.
    There was no sign of anyone in the gym, even though he recognized the cars in the
     parking lot. Marcus checked the pool, the weight room, the boardroom. No one. Frustrated,
     he pulled out his phone and called her.
    “Marcus. How nice. Where the hell have you been?”
    The chill in her voice shouldn’t have made