Page 20 of Rusty's Command

Her last boyfriend was an accountant. Samson hated sunshine, and he would practically break out in hives if she suggested going for a walk, or God forbid, a picnic. When hewasn’t working, his downtime was spent playing stupid Fortnite while drinking enough red energy drinks to charge an entire city. She shook her head.

And I’d been so upset when he broke up with me.

“Are you okay?” Rusty swept his stunning pale green eyes to her, and a bout of recognition swept through her.

“Yep, I’m great.”

Grumbling under his breath, he shook his head and checked his watch. Maybe he had somewhere else to be. If so, that wasn’t going to happen any time soon.

Sienna trailed her fingers along the tunnel wall, and each bump and groove beneath her palm reminded her that this was real. She really was trapped underground with a man who looked ready to tear off an enemy’s head with his bare hands. Though his jaw was clenched tight enough to crack walnuts, he moved with casual confidence beside her as if they were taking a moonlit stroll along Waikiki Beach instead of navigating this pitch-black lava tube that seemed to stretch into infinity.

His ease was both welcoming and infuriating. She didn’t want to be the one to panic, but surely one of them should acknowledge the absolute insanity of their situation. Maybe this was just another workday for him, rescuing women and dogs from underground labyrinths. She almost snorted at the thought. She was far from a damsel in distress, and there was nothing funny about being trapped in tunnels with a smoking hot soldier who made her heart stutter every time their shoulders brushed together.

What’s wrong with me?

She felt like she was eighteen again, drunk on life and lust, instead of a grown woman who knew all too well how nice men turned into assholes faster than she could rectify a broken security protocol.

Soda trotted ahead, and her black coat and Kevlar made her almost invisible in the dim light. As Pickle bounded after her, his energetic movements were a stark contrast to Soda’s disciplined pace. Sienna smiled, watching the two dogs interact. Pickle darted all over the place, living up to Mr. Mischief as Aunty Dee liked to call him. “They’re getting along well,” she said.

“Yeah.” Rusty’s voice carried a note of surprise. “It’s odd. Soda usually only likes military dogs.”

He checked his watch again and his jaw tightened. The gesture was becoming annoying, and each glance at his watch added another layer of tension to his shoulders, another edge to his movements, and another layer of dread to her already tumbling thoughts.

She needed a distraction. “Hey, Rusty, you never told me how you got into training dogs.”

He moaned like her question was a major inconvenience, then he said, “When I was nine, I was attacked by a dog that nearly crushed my skull.”

“Oh my god, that’s terrible. But . . . but wouldn’t that make you scared of dogs?”

“I didn’t blame the dog. I blamed the bastard who owned her. Because of him, that beautiful dog was put down.”

A pang of sadness washed through her. “Oh. That’s . . .” She had no idea what to say.

He glanced at his watch again.

“Why are you checking the time?” she snapped, and her words echoed off the volcanic walls.

His jaw dropped and he glared at her.

“Knowing the time won’t help us down here,” she said. “Will it?”

His eyes flared in the phone light, and his look struck something in her memory, the nagging sense of recognition shecouldn’t quite place. She frowned, trying to pull that elusive memory into focus.

He caught her studying him, and his expression softened. “I’m not checking the time.” His tone was gentler than she expected like he was softening a blow. “My watch has a compass. But down here, the magnetic properties in the volcanic rock mess with it, and I can’t get a reliable reading.”

Shit. I’m an idiot.

“Sorry. It’s just, you know, not every day I get trapped in a lava tube.” She attempted a chuckle, but it sounded weird.

Some of the tension seemed to drain from him. “Listen, about earlier . . .” He cleared his throat. “I should have believed you about them burying a body and I’m sorry.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks,” she said softly. “And thank you for coming with me. I’m sure this wasn’t how you planned to spend your?—”

The phone light died.

“Ah fuck!” Rusty’s bellow bounced around them like a ricocheting bullet.

“What happened?”

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