High Risk Read online

  Praise for the novels of New York Times bestselling author

  VIVIAN AREND

  “The bitter cold of Alberta, Canada, is made toasty warm by the super-sexy Coleman brothers of Six Pack Ranch . . . skillfully written erotic passion.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Vivian Arend pours intense passion into her novels.”

  —Library Journal

  “The perfect combo of well-written world-building, wonderful romance, and sexy shifters.”

  —Lauren Dane, New York Times bestselling author

  “This is a new favorite cowboy series, and a must read!”

  —The Book Pushers

  “[A] rare combination of romance, adventure, humor and screaming hot sex, all in one.”

  —Long and Short Reviews

  “Arend instills humor and heart into a story.”

  —Book Lovers Inc.

  “I have fallen in love with this paranormal werewolf shifter series by Vivian Arend. With her humorous writing style, the off-the-chart chemistry and love scenes, and the endearing and wonderful characters, this series has become auto-buy.”

  —Pearl’s World of Romance

  HIGH

  RISK

  VIVIAN AREND

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  USA / Canada / UK / Ireland / Australia / New Zealand / India / South Africa / China

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  For more information about the Penguin Group, visit penguin.com.

  HIGH RISK

  A Berkley Book / published by arrangement with the author

  Copyright © 2013 by Vivian Arend.

  Excerpt from High Passion by Vivian Arend copyright © 2013 by Vivian Arend.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  BERKLEY® is a registered trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  The “B” design is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  ISBN: 978-0-425-26333-4

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-101-59987-7

  PUBLISHING HISTORY

  Berkley mass-market edition / March 2013

  Cover art by Gene Mollica. Cover design by Lesley Worrell.

  Interior text design by Laura K. Corless.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  Contents

  Praise

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Special Excerpt from High Passion

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Wonderful people have encouraged me at every step of this adventure. Anne Scott brought me into the publishing world and guided me through everything from track changes to how to fill plot holes. Bree Bridges and Donna Herren have been my sounding board (or two by four) as needed. Maya Banks’s encouragement to try something new came at just the right time. My agent, Kim Whalen, is a rock star in her own right, not even blinking when I submitted a “so, I kind of have an idea, what do you think?” proposal. And now the team at Berkley lifts me to new heights: Cindy Hwang is every bit as amazing as I’d heard. The art department has brought Marcus and Becki to life.

  To every one of you: Thanks for sharing your skills and cheering me on.

  PROLOGUE

  September

  Grand Teton, Wyoming

  Thick fog enveloped her, fading the brilliant green needles of the nearby spruce to a nondescript grey. Becki adjusted her grasp on the climbing rope, reset her feet. Worked to steady the rolling in her gut.

  “You ready? Sometime today would be great.” Dane’s teasing tones removed the sting from his words.

  “Bastard,” Becki muttered as she peered over her shoulder in yet another futile attempt to find a safe path off the mountainside. What she needed was for the dense cloud cover that had rolled in out of season and out of nowhere to vanish.

  “I heard that.”

  She snorted in spite of the fear tangoing in her veins. “Bastard with Superman hearing. Good for you.” She squinted, then opened her eyes as wide as possible. It was no use. “Dane, I can’t see a bloody thing. I could be on route, or hanging over a thousand-foot free fall for all I know.”

  “You want me to go first?”

  Now he offered. “You couldn’t have said something fifteen minutes ago? Jerk.”

  He laughed. The familiar sound warmed her in spite of the tension there’d been between them the entire weekend. She and Dane had been climbing partners and lovers for long enough to forgive a few strained conversations.

  “Yeah, but I’m your jerk, right?”

  Becki sighed. Even with his moments of childishness, and the peculiar way he’d been acting the past couple of weeks, she did care for him as much as she cared for anyone. “Yes, Dane, you’re my jerk.”

  “Bec? Love you.”

  She leaned back, staring up the hillside. Maybe a glimpse of his face would explain the uncharacteristic quiver in his voice. “Dane?”

  All hell broke loose.

  The rock wall to her left gave way, an entire slab of granite dropping in one chunk. A splash of red flashed past as Dane shrieked. Becki’s heart pounded, the echo of her own scream loud in her ears. Then her rope harness jerked, dragging her upward, slamming her against the mountainside as she lost her footing.

  As Dane fell, the rope connection between them dragged her in the opposite direction toward their safety anchor. She twisted, tucking in her legs, using her elbows and upper arms to attempt to belay their motion. Scrambling for a firm hold, palms ripping against small rocks.

  As quickly as it began, Becki jolted to a stop.

  Knuckles throbbing with pain, breath ragged, she grabbed blindly for where the rope attached to her climbing belt. She slid her aching hands upward, following the thick cord to discover the coarse bark of a stump, the twisted fibers tangled around the jagged protrusion.

  She hauled herself higher using small foothol
ds, clinging to the mountain until she could add additional loops to make the accidental anchor more secure.

  She screamed into the misty abyss. “Dane.”

  No answer.

  Becki alternated between glancing down for a sign of her partner and peering upward, trying to calculate how far from the top she was.

  The eerie silence from below caused her hands to shake. Her limbs jerked as she climbed, adjusting ropes, anchoring herself and keeping Dane’s lifeline in control.

  A soft breeze pushed the clouds against her, soaking her to the skin, but increasing her hopes. If the wind picked up and blew away the mist, she’d be able to see Dane easier.

  “Dane.”

  Still no answer as she scrambled to set additional anchors.

  Another moment passed before she managed to pull herself over the lip, now farther to the right than she’d been when they first reached the edge to rappel down. The sight of the raw new surface where the mountain had given way made bile rise. She shoved away the fear—she’d have time to freak out after her partner was safe.

  “Dane. Answer me, dammit. Whistle.”

  The rope was heavy with his weight, so she had to assume he was unconscious. Becki calmed her breathing and centered herself, methodically grabbing the equipment she needed to belay him.

  The wind increased as she worked, flapping the edges of her hood as if ghostly fingers were playing with her. Visibility improved as she maneuvered into position, each move careful yet as rapid as possible.

  “I got you, Dane. Hang in there, okay? Everything’s going to be fine.”

  She wrapped her fingers around the cord to haul him to safety.

  The mountain shifted again.

  The secondary rope she’d anchored to a sturdy tree snagged tight before she’d fallen more than a couple of meters. The backup system locked her in position as the main rope, the one leading to Dane, jerked erratically. Becki skidded on the moving rocks, scrambling to find a place to stand. She twisted, planting her feet into a wide stance to stop from spinning. It worked enough to put her facing the wall, a shower of stones descending from above and crashing into her shoulders. Instinctively she ensured the safety lock on Dane’s lifeline was engaged, her fingers moving rapidly even as something heavy struck her helmet, and the world went black.

  CHAPTER 1

  May

  Banff National Park

  “I’d like to fire their asses. Every damn one of them.” Marcus stared out his office window at the clouds wafting past Mount Rundle. The peaceful serenity of the Banff panorama didn’t match his internal turmoil.

  “You’d regret it when you get a call and need a full crew to go save a Boy Scout troop in trouble.” David gestured for him to sit. “Stop pacing. Your team made a mistake. They screwed up. Look on the good side. It was a training exercise, and no one died.”

  If they’d still been teens, Marcus would have thrown a fist in David’s direction. “Look on the good side? Since when did you become Suzy fucking Sunshine? You ripped the ears off one of your first-year students last month for messing up. I hold my team to a higher standard than a bunch of rescue wannabes.”

  “My student? Oh, come on. That’s different.” David snapped his mouth shut, probably annoyed that his rare outburst had been carried on the grapevine.

  Marcus dropped into his desk chair, pleased to witness his brother’s guilty expression. Being fuming mad didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy taking a dig or two. He was glad they didn’t work together, though. Years ago David had taken his backcountry skills in a different direction, choosing to pass on his expertise to the next generation. He’d established one of the highest-ranked training centres in North America. Graduates from David’s institute were currently employed across the United States and Canada, hauling people out of life-and-death situations in the mountains and rivers of national parks and other wilderness settings.

  Teaching had never been on Marcus’s agenda. Instead, he’d been busy saving the bloody world. Using his abilities in one or another of the hot zones where getting caught was less a matter of apologizing and offering restitution, and more about picking up as many pieces as you could find and shoving them into a bag to take home.

  Now, years later, Banff had become a safe place where when things got tough, there was someone who cared unconditionally. Because he was the first to admit there were times he was less than easy to get along with.

  David nabbed a magazine off the side table and shook it at him. “This conversation isn’t about my school, or my students. If your squad blew it, deal with it. They need a bit of boot camp. They’re spoiled. Being named ‘the best of the best’ has gone to their heads. Plus, they’re spending more time in the bar enjoying people fawning over them than they are training—it adds up, bro. Mistakes were bound to happen.”

  Excuses weren’t acceptable. Marcus shook his head. “Not on my watch. That’s not what getting selected to work for Lifeline is about. I expect them to be on all the time, David.”

  “I know, I know. When you organized your squad, you said you were going to keep it tight and make it special. Three years—God, I can’t believe it’s been such a short time. You’ve done amazing things with them, but maybe you need to regroup.”

  Marcus dragged his hand through his hair and consciously released a slow breath. Regrouping was what he was doing, but pouring a tall glass of something strong and forgetting everything for a while was tempting.

  Three years didn’t seem like long enough to have changed his entire direction in life. Globe-trotting and working undercover—he hadn’t expected the secretive recovery operations he’d been involved with to last forever, but he’d never thought his career would vanish with one bad decision.

  On someone else’s part.

  He glanced involuntarily at the stump of his left arm. On a side table just beyond his line of sight lay his modified prosthetic, the one he wore only when absolutely necessary. Physically he’d healed and moved on. Mentally—there were still days when cursing wasn’t enough.

  Still, returning to Banff after he’d been discharged from the hospital had been a no-brainer. Setting up a private rescue company had always been the fallback plan for when he decided to get out of working for others. He’d recruited the best, trained them hard, and now they were the go-to squad called in for high-risk and impossible rescues.

  The sight of one of that elite team Z-clipping during a routine training exercise and potentially killing more than the rescue attempt flashed into his brain again, and he growled in frustration. “If this is what becoming famous does, I’m keeping my squad in the dark from here on. I should have told that reporter to take his damn camera and shove it up his ass.”

  “Don’t blame Nathan for writing the article. Blame Sports Illustrated for publishing it and making the theme for the entire magazine a salute to your ‘death-defying gods and goddesses of the wilderness.’”

  “Stow it. We’ve established what caused the problem. My team has gotten fat and lazy sitting on their laurels.”

  “So, increase their regular training. We’re between skiing and hiking season. With the school on semester break until June first, you’re welcome to access any of the equipment. Perfect time for some intense workouts to get their act together.” David sneered. “Maybe you should consider joining them instead of teaching from the sidelines.”

  Bastard. David was the only one brave enough to taunt him. “You implying I’m out of shape?”

  “If the tire fits—”

  Marcus threw a pen across the room, his brother deflecting it easily. “I’ve been coordinating, not flying rescues. Plus dealing with office work. I’m still in shape—I’m not too weak to beat your ass.”

  “Fine, you’re in decent physical shape, but you’re nowhere near as technically qualified as before.” David lifted his chin in challenge. “And don’t give me the excuse you only have one arm, because you told me from day one you’d never let that hold you back.”

  �
��Goddammit, you are a son of a bitch sometimes, aren’t you?”

  His brother grinned. “I know very well that you were the inspiration behind a lot of those kids wanting to sign on with Lifeline. If the legend can let himself go soft . . . Think about it.”

  He had been. Marcus pulled out a file folder and tossed it across his desk. “Fine. You win. ASAP the team is back in basic training.”

  It only took a few minutes for David to flip through the pages, swearing softly. He dropped the file to the floor, one page clutched in his hand. “You tricky bastard, you already had a plan organized even while you were bitching at me. When did you get this in place?”

  Pulling a fast one on his brother felt damn good. “Your school secretary has been amazing. I’m thinking of stealing her away.”

  “You can’t afford her.” The single page David had pulled was shaken in his direction. “You don’t have anyone listed for rope training.”

  Marcus shook his head. “Your lead instructor said he’s got plans for the semester break. You have any other ideas?”

  A grin broke across David’s face so quickly it was frightening. “It’s funny you ask. I just brought in an expert to plan some specialized classes. She’s going to join the school next semester as a general instructor and overseer.”

  “She?”

  “Rebecca James.”

  His brother said her name so casually. As if she weren’t the one woman everyone in the mountain community knew. David must have been itching to share his good fortune in nabbing her for a job.

  A shot of adrenaline flared through Marcus’s body in direct opposition to what David was probably expecting. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.

  Becki James.

  He determinedly copied David’s nonchalance. “She’s going into teaching?”

  David nodded slowly. “Her contract with the U.S. Parks Department in Yellowstone was up anyway, and she said she wanted to take a little time off, so I issued an invitation.”

  For one brief second a kind of panic hit as Marcus wondered if this was a setup, if his brother had arranged this to jerk him out of his gloom. The sensation faded as rapidly as it arrived. As far as he knew, the long-ago sexual escapade between him and Becki was still a complete secret. The chances that David would remember he’d visited the school while she was a student were slim. If he was going to keep it that way, he needed his alarm to remain hidden.