Page 19 of Rusty's Command

“Hey.” Rusty pressed his hand to her shoulder. “You okay to keep moving?”

She nodded, and a moan escaped her lips as her world spun.

“Take it easy. You have a nasty bump on your head.” His steady hand anchored her.

Pickle pressed against her leg while Soda took position beside Rusty, her posture alert as she stared into the darkness beyond the phone beam.

They moved through the darkness like an underground tactical unit, with Rusty leading the way. She couldn’t help but notice his practiced movements, checking each corner before they turned, positioning himself between her and any branching tunnels. This wasn’t paranoia or amateur survival skills. Every move spoke of professional training, adding another piece to the puzzle of who he really was.

Rusty had his share of scars. A small chunk was taken out of the top of his right ear, a lightning bolt-shaped scar crossed his right cheek, and a large welt marred his arm. There was a lot more to Rusty than just K9 protection detail.

“So,” she ventured, “you said you were in the military? How long?”

“Eight years.”

“Delta force, right?”

“Yep.”

He paused at an intersection, studying the ceiling formations.

“So, did you train Soda?”

“Yep.”

A man of few words.

“Is that your specialty? Training K9s?”

“Yep.”

“You don’t say much, do you?”

“I’m trying to focus.”

“Right, because analyzing rock formations requires your complete concentration.” The words slipped out before she could catch them.

He shot her a look that was half amusement, half warning. “You always this chatty in life-or-death situations?”

“Only on Tuesdays.” She attempted a laugh, but he didn’t buy it.

Rolling his eyes, he kept walking, swinging his phone light back and forth over the uneven ground.

She stumbled slightly, and he reached for her. His instincts were quick.

“So how long have you been training dogs?”

“Sienna.” His voice was quiet but firm. “Please.”

“What? We’re trapped in a fucking lava tube. Nobody can hear us.”

“I’m trying to focus.”

Focus? Or avoid her questions?

She shut up, but her mind kept turning over the puzzle of him as they walked deeper into the earth. The way he moved and his intense concentration. Rusty was all brawn, muscles on muscles, broad shoulders and bulging biceps, but he’d already proven he could be gentle. She wouldn’t mind getting a peek at his torso. He probably had a six-pack.

She’d never been with a man who had a six-pack.

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