Page 18 of Rusty's Command

One of the killers has me.

Terror clawed up her throat and exploded into a scream. She thrashed against the iron grip, punching solid muscle as she fought with all the strength she had. “Let me go! Help!”

“Sienna, hey, it’s okay.” The voice cut through her fear, gentle, familiar, completely at odds with the mental image of themurderer she thought had her. Strong hands lowered her down, carefully setting her on her feet. “You’re safe.”

She blinked at the broad shoulders she could barely see in what little light filtered through the darkness. “Rusty?” The name came out small, uncertain.

“Yes. I’m here.” His hand hovered near her shoulder, steadying but not quite touching. “You had a fall and bumped your head pretty hard.”

Her fingers found tacky wetness in her hair, and she winced at the egg forming on the side of her skull. “Where are we?”

“Do you remember what happened?” Light caught in his pale green eyes, and something about that worried look tugged at her memory.

“I remember some bastards shooting at us.”

He huffed out a short laugh. “Yeah. Fuckers.”

“I fell into this lava tube, didn’t I?”

He nodded, scraping thick fingers through his ginger hair. The movement made his bicep flex, and she definitely didn’t notice. “I jumped in after you.”

“You . . .” The words took a moment to process. “You jumped in after me?” Recall slammed back like a freight train. “Oh God—Pickle!” She jerked to look around, then regretted it as pain exploded behind her eyes. “Is he?—?”

“He’s fine. I had to throw him into the lava tube after your fall , and your back broke his fall.” Rusty scrunched his nose. “Sorry about that.”

Claws clicked against stone, and the little terrier emerged from the darkness.

“Pickle. There you are.” She picked him up and crushed him against her chest, breathing in his warm, alive smell. “Thank God.”

She met Rusty’s eyes. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, well, don’t thank me yet.”

“Wait! Soda? I heard her yelp. Was she shot?”

Rusty’s whistle bounced off the volcanic walls like a whipcrack. Soda materialized from the shadows, settling beside him with military precision. He brushed her shoulder, then traced a hole in her tactical vest. “She’s okay. Thank Christ she had her Kevlar on.”

Her stomach lurched. “Jesus. She could have been killed.”

“She’s fine. Aren’t you, girl?”

Soda’s dark eyes met Rusty’s, and Sienna’s breath caught at the connection between them. She’d never seen that level of trust and understanding pass between any two beings, let alone a human and a dog. Not that she could blame Soda. If she had to pick someone to look at with that level of devotion, a man as handsome as Rusty wouldn’t be a struggle.

The beam of Rusty’s phone flashlight carved through the darkness, revealing obsidian walls that stretched deep into blackness and vanished in both directions. Adding to her throbbing head, fear inched in. Since that horrid situation at last year’s Christmas party, she always made a point of knowing where the exits were. “Any idea where we are?”

“In the biggest lava tube I’ve ever seen.” His voice bounced off the glassy surfaces. “These things snake under the whole island like subway tunnels. God knows where this one ends up.”

She put Pickle down and he trotted to the curved wall, and her cheeks heated as he lifted his leg. Her bladder twinged as if jealous of her dog. Perfect, yet another problem she hadn’t considered.

The tunnel gaped before them as wide as a highway. “And how do we get out?”

“How the hell should I know?” The edge in his voice made both dogs’ heads snap up. He scrubbed a hand over his face, exhaling sharply. “Sorry. I just . . . I don’t know.”

The reality of their situation settled over her like the weight of all that volcanic rock above. They were trapped underground with no food, no water, and no idea where they were going. And armed killers were up top, determined to kill them.

Her chest tightened.

Jesus, this is not good.

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