Page 32 of Rusty's Command

“Those men had to come from somewhere in these tunnels. When we find their entry point, we might find Pickle, too.” His fingers threaded through hers, calloused and sure, and the simple touch sent awareness cascading through her body. This wasn’t the Rusty she remembered—the young, unsure man who’d once stumbled over his words and blushed when he’d seen her in her bikini on the beach for the first time.

That Rusty had faded like an old photograph. In his place was a man whose strength radiated even in dim light, whose hands now spoke of purpose instead of uncertainty. The way he’d thrown himself between her and danger without hesitation and the controlled power in his movements—everything about him had crystallized into something both familiar and thrillingly unknown.

And that realization sparked something dangerous in her mind . . .I’m falling for him all over again.

Using the flashlight that he must have taken from those men, he swept quick arcs of light across the curved floor, and as they walked, Soda led the way with her nose to the ground.

“Pickle!” Sienna called ahead every few minutes, but each time, silence swallowed her voice, and her chest constricted tighter. She couldn’t stop seeing the pure joy on Aunty Dee’s face when she’d first introduced Sienna to the wriggling ball of fur who’d brought light back into her life after Uncle Charlie’s death. That stupid, precious dog had saved her aunt from drowning in grief. The thought of having to tell Aunty Dee that she’d lost him twisted Sienna’s stomach into knots.

God, how would I tell her I?—

No. I can’t think like that.

Rusty’s thumb brushed across her knuckles as if he sensed her spiraling thoughts, and her breath hitched at how much that simple gesture grounded her, just like it had all those years ago.

“What the hell?” Rusty’s beam caught something unnatural against the volcanic stone floor. He released her hand, dropping into a crouch. His light traced a thick black cable that wound along the tunnel floor like a sleeping snake and disappeared into the darkness ahead. They followed its path with Soda sniffing the ground with renewed intensity. Rusty’s light swept across something in the shadows, and they halted.

Carved into the ancient lava flow, with an outline that was barely visible against the rough stone, was a secret door.

“Holy shit!” Rusty said.

“What is this place?” Sienna’s voice died in her throat.

Rusty’s eyes flared. “I have no fucking idea, but we’re about to find out.”

CHAPTER 11

Rusty

Rusty ranhis fingers along the seam that was barely visible in the lava tube wall, searching for a way to open the secret door. It took two passes before his fingertips brushed a pressure plate tucked behind a natural outcrop.

Fuck me.Carving into ancient lava was not easy. Let alone making a secret doorway with trigger mechanisms.

“Stay back.” He shoved Sienna behind him, and pressing his body against the wall, he engaged the plate.

The door slid open with a hydraulic hiss that raised every hair on his neck. No grind of disuse, no rust. This access point was well maintained. But access to what?

Hugging the wall, he edged forward and peered around the corner into a narrow passage. Strip lighting ran along the base of the floor, casting a cold, sterile glow that confirmed the truth—this was not another lava tube. It was a manmade tunnel.

His combat instincts, honed by countless missions in dark, hostile places, sent warning flares up his spine. That door was a hidden access tunnel leading straight to the lava tube. But why?

Whoever built this door needed covert access to the lava tube—and he doubted tourism was their motive. This was the kind of setup designed for disposing of problems. Like the body Sienna had witnessed them trying to bury.

With his gun out of ammo, his only weapon was the one he’d lifted off the trigger-happy bastard who’d shot him center-mass, thank God, rather than his head. Without the Kevlar, he’d be lying in a pool of his own blood. With the gun locked and loaded, he leaned close to Sienna’s ear and whispered, “Stay here. I’ll?—”

“Hell no.” Her words sliced through the darkness, sharp as a combat knife. “I’m coming with you.”

“This isn’t a debate,” he said, but he knew that look of hers. Same steel in her spine she’d shown before jumping off cliffs into the ocean all those years ago. Stubborn then, stubborn now.

“You’re right—it’s not.” She stepped toward the doorway. “I’m coming whether you like it or not.”

Fucking hell. Going in blind with no recon, no backup, and no intel was suicide.

But he had no choice. He lined up his priorities like targets: protect Sienna, control Soda, find Pickle, and get the fuck outta there.

Simple. Clean. Doable.

Except Sienna’s steel-spined determination made his blood run hot, adding another layer of complication to a FUBAR situation. He wrapped Soda’s lead around his hand twice, feeling her muscles coil with anticipation. Time to move.

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