Page 10 of Rusty's Command

“Yes. But I need to show the police what I saw.”

His chest tightened at how distressed she was. “Did the desk sergeant tell you they’re tied up with a drug bust?” Keeping his voice calm took effort.

“Yes. They said they’d send an officer to meet me when available.” Her tone cracked with frustration. “But the person . . . they could be dying while they?—”

“I can help.” He kept his hands where she could see them, recognizing the wild look in her eyes from all those years ago. “My K9 and I can check out what you saw.”And make mincemeat of their faces,he vowed silently.

“I know what I saw.” Fire blazed in her green eyes—the same passionate fury he remembered all too well. “They were digging a grave, and there was a blue tarp. I told myself I’d watched too many crime shows. But then . . .”

“Okay. Okay. Keep calm.” He started to reach for her but caught himself.

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” She jerked back. “They tried to kill me.”

“Sorry, ma’am.” He kept his hands where she could see them. “You’re right.”

“Sienna.” Fire still blazed in her eyes. “Don’t call me ma’am.”

“Sorry, Sienna. Okay, I’m Rusty.” She knew him as Russell, and his gut told him that once she realized who he was, she’d want nothing to do with him. But no way was he leaving her like this. “How do you know they were burying a body?”

Her face paled.

“The person in the tarp sat up like they’d jolted awake or something.” She sucked in a massive breath. “And the bastard hit the person in the tarp with the shovel.”

“Son of a bitch.” His mind raced to Sarah’s missing daughter. Jesus, is the body Grace? “Can you take us there?” He gripped Soda’s lead, and the shepherd responded with military alertness.

“Yes.” She straightened her spine, determination replacing fear.

“My truck’s right here.” He sprinted to the RAM, and Soda leaped into the truck bed in one fluid motion.

He opened his door, but Sienna hung back, and her resolve seemed to be crumbling. He raced around to the passenger side. “We need to move.”

Her arms tightened around Pickle, and she looked so scared it ripped his fucking heart out.

“Listen,” he said quietly, “Soda’s not just a guard dog—she’s ex-military like me. I served eight years with Delta Force before I joined Brotherhood Protectors.” No need to mention how his military career had ended. “We’ll protect you.”

Something shifted in her expression, then she marched to his truck and slid into the passenger seat with Pickle clutched to her chest.

He was in the truck and firing the engine before she settled, and her seatbelt clicked as he threw the truck into drive, gravel spitting behind them. “We need to drop your dog off first.”

“Hell no!” She clutched Pickle tighter. “They have my phone, so they know where I’m staying.”

He frowned at her. “It’s not that easy to get information off a locked phone.”

“I know that. I’m not fucking stupid. I’m staying at my aunt’s house, and her address was in my phone case.” Her fingers twisted in Pickle’s fur. “Pickle is staying with me.”

Christ. Dee better not be in danger.She’s been my neighbor since the day I was born.

“Where’s your aunty?”

“Spain. I’m house-sitting, looking after Pickle.” She brushed her hand over Pickle’s back.

Great. Just what they needed. A canine liability that was more damn trouble than a coked-up teenager.

The RAM’s engine growled as he swung onto the main road. He stole a glance at her profile, struggling to connect this hardened woman beside him with the girl who once tangled the sheets with him. That gangly teenager doing handstands and splits on the beach had matured into a completely different woman with quiet strength, guarded edges, and tightly woundtension. But beneath her anger, fear bled through in the way her fingers shook against Pickle’s fur.

“We’ll handle this.” He kept his voice steady, projecting a calm he didn’t quite feel. “I need to know exactly where you saw the men.”

“Well . . .” She shifted in her seat, finally loosening her grip on Pickle. “It was from a lava tube, so we have to show you from there.”

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