Page 17 of Rusty's Command

He unclipped her lead and reattached it to a hook on her Kevlar harness. She offered no resistance as he lowered her by the leash, fast and controlled, into the hole. The silence behind him screamed a warning. Were they restocking their weapons? Mourning their asshole mate?

Calling in backup?

When the length of leash ran out, he swung Soda like a pendulum and let her go. Soda landed on all fours and ran straight to Sienna.

“Soda, pull her back.”

Soda grabbed hold of Sienna’s shirt and dragged her lifeless body into the darkness.

“Good girl, Soda. Stand guard.”

My turn.

Rolling onto his side, Rusty scanned for the shooters but couldn’t see them. What are they doing?

Aiming at their last known location, he emptied his magazine, then slid his lower body into the hole. His descent exposed his upper body.

Two rounds cracked past his face, way too fucking close for his liking.

Rusty controlled his descent until it was just his white-knuckled fingertips keeping him in place. Gunfire peppered the crust above him as he let go. Years of training kicked in, and he made a perfect three-point landing despite the crappy angle. His knee twinged, thanks to an old Baghdad souvenir. He combat rolled out of the afternoon sun that knifed through the darkness and dashed to Sienna, but Pickle intercepted, barking and baring his teeth.

“Stand down, you psychotic furball.” He lowered to his knee at Sienna’s side. “Hey, can you hear me?”

Pickle licked her cheek, but she didn’t stir.

Blood slicked his fingers as he traced the jagged gash hidden in her hair, but her steady breathing promised hope despite her unconsciousness.

Shadows slashed through the shaft of sunlight above—movement, multiple targets.

“Shit.” He scooped Sienna up and curled her over his shoulder. Her dead weight and silence confirmed she was out cold. “Pickle, Soda, heel.”

As he melted into the shadows with the dogs, gunfire exploded behind them, sparking off volcanic rock and transforming the ancient lava tube into a combat zone. Each shot echoed in the tunnel, making a booming symphony that was loud and clear—these assholes wanted him and Sienna dead.No . . . not just wanted, they needed us dead.And that meant Sienna really did see something she shouldn’t have seen.

“Fucking hell!” The killer’s roar of frustration echoed as loud as his bullets.

Rusty moved deeper underground, and the lava tube ceiling dropped lower as another shot echoed through the tunnel, farther away, but the sound bounced around the walls like a metal ball.

He checked his phone again. No signal and no way to know if his team got his message.

As he marched deeper into that volcanic throat, the dogs’ pale shapes ghosted ahead into absolute darkness. The tunnel curved left, and as it plummeted into depths that devoured light, a new dread clawed at his gut.

Did our situation get better or worse?

CHAPTER 6

Sienna

Consciousness arrived in disjointed fragments,darkness, the flashes of light, nausea rolling through her stomach, and a steady motion.

Am I being carried?

Memories skittered just out of reach like spooked cats, refusing to be caught.

Am I upside down?Her forehead connected with something solid as she tried to orient herself.Is that someone’s ass?

Reality shuffled into place like a deck of cards: the gunfire, running, her foot catching on something, the sickening moment of freefall.

Oh fuck!

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