Page 60 of Rusty's Command

As he ended the call, his attention magnetized to Sienna. She had Pickle crushed against her chest, and she laughed as she buried her face in the mutt’s scruff while Maria scratched behind his ears. Both women grinned as they cooed at the dog and brushed his fur, and it was impossible to fathom that they’d both just survived hell on earth.

The sight of Sienna laughing and smiling despite the blood and chaos around her hit him like a physical blow. Eighteen years ago, they’dbothbeen like that: carefree, wild, living for the moment.

The years had changed him, carved away his youthfulness until all that remained was granite and steel. Where he now carried darkness, she still radiated that same pure light. While he cataloged threats, she found joy in simple moments. His battle-hardened body ached for that forgotten piece of himself that he barely remembered.

She tossed her head back in a wild giggle that loosened something so very tight in his chest. Yeah, he thought, allowing a smile to tug at his mouth . . . I’m real fucking glad we didn’t get dead tonight.

Maybe he could find a way back to that version of himself that knew how to live, not just survive. The one worthy of her wild light.

Forcing down memories of her delicious body lying naked beneath him, he made the call he’d been dreading.

“Police Chief Dave Callahan,” his father answered on the first ring.

“Hey, Dad. Now, don’t get mad?—”

“Christ, Rusty, what have you done this time?”

“For the record, I didn’t start it.”

“Okay. As long as I don’t need body bags, I can handle it.”

Rusty winced. “About that . . .”

“Son of a— Who’s dead?”

“Viktor Wang. For starters.”

“What the fuck?” Dave’s voice shot up an octave. “Viktor Wang? And what do you mean ‘for starters’?”

“Sorry, Dad. It’s bad.” Rusty pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, fighting a headache that was bound to come. “I’m at the Pearl Lagoon Resort. We found a hidden area beneath the resort where Wang was running human trafficking auctions.”

His dad’s sharp intake of breath spoke volumes.

“We interrupted him auctioning off six women.”

“Christ almighty!”

“Sienna killed the power to the area, but before she shut off the live feed, she ID’d one of the buyers.” Rusty leaned against a pillar. “You might want to sit down for this.”

Dave groaned like he had an ulcer. “I’m sitting. Who?”

“Howard Whitney Williams. You know . . . that pastor from the megachurch, New Hope or something.”

Dave’s silence stretched so long that Rusty checked to see if the call had dropped.

“Dad?”

“I’m here.” His father’s voice had aged twenty years in twenty seconds.” Jesus H. Christ, that’s . . .”

“Fucked?”

“Yeah. That.”

“Well, it gets worse.” Rusty searched for Grace and found her huddled with the other survivors. The young girl’s gold cross glinted in Tommy’s flashlight which was still on the floor. “One of the victims was his daughter, Grace Williams. Remember Sarah, that desperate mother in your office? The one we argued about?”

“Ah hell . . .” His father’s voice cracked, followed by a heavy silence that made Rusty’s chest tighten. “I should’ve listened to you, son. I was wrong.”

“It’s okay, Dad, we would never have predicted this level of fucked up.”

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