Page 19

CHAPTER 19

Rusty

“Let her go, Wang!” Rusty locked the SIG on the bastard, but his eyes skidded from the blue tinge creeping across Sienna’s lips to Wang’s forearm crushing her windpipe to the tremor in the gun barrel pressed against her temple.

He’s fucking losing it!

The silence that followed landed like a physical blow. Only Wang’s ragged breathing cut through it, each harsh exhale sending fresh rage through Rusty’s veins.

Fifteen feet of stage stretched between Rusty and them. It might as well have been a mile. Too far to tackle him, and the angle was wrong to shoot him. Wang’s head danced behind Sienna’s head like a coward, using her body to block Rusty’s kill zone.

“Call off your dog!” Wang’s voice cracked like thin ice as spittle flew from his lips. His eyes were blown wide with the kind of fear that turned men feral. Unpredictable. Deadly.

It was Soda who’d triggered his fear. Men like Wang didn’t fear clean deaths—bullets were business, quick and impersonal. But the prospect of having their throats torn out by razor fangs? That kind of death spoke to something primitive in their lizard brains, reminding them that there were worse ways to die than bullets.

Soda stalked closer, her growl building from somewhere prehistoric. Pride flared through Rusty.

Keep pushing him, girl. Show him what real fear tastes like.

A whimper escaped from the huddle of women on the floor, adding a human layer to the tension-charged air.

Sienna’s eyes fluttered, and her desperate gasps for air shredded what was left of Rusty’s patience. Each shallow breath marked another second she didn’t have.

“Last chance, Wang.” Rusty injected lethal calm into his voice that usually preceded someone’s final moments on earth. But Sienna’s body remained a perfect shield, and Wang knew it. The bastard’s arm constricted tighter, and her choked whimper hit Rusty like a sledgehammer.

Movement exploded in his peripheral vision. A flashlight beam carved wild arcs through the darkness as another bastard darted onto the stage like a demented puppy. The women cried out and huddled backward.

Rusty kept his aim locked on Wang, but his gaze darted between the new threat and the gun pressed against Sienna’s temple.

Soda bared her fangs in a deadly promise and remained granite-still at Wang’s flank.

Two threats! And no kill shot on Wang.

The new guy’s hands trembled so violently his flashlight beam painted frenzied streaks across the floor. He could have dropped Rusty with a bullet in the back before revealing himself, but he didn’t. Why did he hesitate? Fear? Maybe hoping to negotiate. Whatever the reason, he’d sacrificed his best chance to kill Rusty the moment he showed himself. Rusty filed that tactical error into his raging thoughts.

“Kill him!” Wang’s desperate command ricocheted off the walls like a stray bullet.

The flashlight beam flicked across the stage again, and Rusty caught details that shifted the level of the new threat entirely. The second gunman wasn’t a man at all—just a kid, barely out of his teens. Raw terror carved deep lines into features that were too young for this kind of violence.

Rusty had seen that same look countless times in Colombia—young men drowning in deep shit, where the only exit was in a body bag. If they were lucky.

“Just put the gun down,” Rusty said to the kid. He kept his voice steady, using the same tone he reserved for training frightened dogs.

“Kill him!” Wang’s command splintered with desperation, but the kid’s weapon shook even harder, broadcasting his fear like a beacon.

“Don’t do it.” Rusty recognized the telltale signs of fight-or-flight tensing the boy’s muscles. “You’ve got one chance to walk away from this. One. Lower your weapon.”

“He’ll kill me if I don’t—” The kid’s voice cracked, raw and terrified. His gaze scooted between Wang and the dead guy sprawled across the floor with the bullet wound in his forehead.

“Tommy! Kill that bastard!” Wang’s command turned shrill. “And kill that fucking dog!”

“Wang won’t hurt you anymore.” Rusty slid authority back into his words, figuring this kid needed direction. “I guarantee that. But if you don’t drop that weapon right now, you won’t live to see sunrise.”

Sienna’s eyes locked with Rusty’s, and desperate intelligence blazed through her oxygen-deprived fog. Her legs buckled as Wang’s arm constricted like a steel trap.

She’s only got seconds before she blacks out.

The kid’s loyalty to Wang was the only thing holding this bullshit together.

Rusty’s trigger finger tingled. Everything was about to explode, and very, very fast.

“Wang!” Rusty’s voice carried the weight of every kill shot he’d ever made. “Release your grip, and I’ll heel the dog,” he lied.

The moment Wang’s arm loosened, Soda would tear his throat out.

“Bullshit!” Wang’s laugh cracked with hysteria. His eyes darted between his dead guard and Soda’s blood-streaked muzzle. “I saw what your dog did.” He dragged Sienna backward, constricting his arm around her throat even more.

Soda’s claws clicked against the wooden floor as she inched toward him like a predator heading in for the kill. Her muscles bunched under her fur.

“Back!” Wang’s voice cracked as he yanked Sienna higher, her toes barely scraping the floor. “I said back !”

The gun at her temple trembled harder.

Through the madness, Sienna’s eyes flashed in the wild dance of the kid’s flashlight beam.

She gave a deliberate wink.

The message hit him like a lightning strike. I’m ready.

“Soda, take!” The command exploded from Rusty’s throat.

Sienna dropped like a rag doll. Wang’s grip slipped, his gun hand jerked skyward as Soda launched for his jugular.

The clean shot Rusty had prayed for materialized like divine intervention.

He squeezed the trigger before Wang’s scream could fully form and the gunshot shattered the air like thunder. Wang’s head snapped back in a spray of blood, and he flew backward, hitting the stage with the finality of a cadaver.

The kid’s weapon and flashlight clattered to the wood, and he bolted away, shrieking like a terrified animal.

“Soda, take!” Rusty pointed at the fleeing target.

As Rusty dashed toward Sienna, Soda took off like a black missile, covering the stage in three bounds. The kid’s scream pitched higher as Soda slammed him face-down on the stage and growled as she pinned him with her bared teeth inches from his neck.

Rusty dropped to the floor and gathered Sienna in his arms. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

She crumbled against him, and her fingers knotted in his shirt as she gasped for air.

The women who’d been cowering in shadows returned to the stage. Four collapsed into each other’s arms, and two sank to their knees in tearful prayers.

“You okay?” Rusty brushed his hand over the bruises blooming on Sienna’s arm.

“Yes. Thank you. You saved us.”

“Told you I would.” He crushed her against his chest, pressing his lips to her forehead. “You were amazing.”

Pickle bounded across the stage, launching himself over Sienna’s legs as if this was the greatest game ever.

Sienna’s giggle shimmered through the air, breaking down years of darkness and transporting him back to better days, when he’d held her on a sandy beach, and they’d laughed until tears of joy spilled down their cheeks.

And then he’d ruined it all.

He made a silent vow: he would never let her slip away again.

Pickle’s excited yips and wagging tail created a surreal counterpoint to the spent bullets and bloody bodies around them, yet somehow, the little dog’s excitement made their victory feel more complete.

Soda was still at the edge of the stage, maintaining her fierce watch on the kid. She would keep him pinned until judgment day if Rusty didn’t give the release command.

Reluctantly, he loosened his hold on Sienna. “You sure you’re okay?”

She nodded, and the golden flecks in her forest-green eyes caught the scattered flashlights like sparks. “Yes, babe. I’m fine.”

Babe. The word glowed in him like sunlight, warming places in his heart he’d thought would remain frozen until his last breath. He wanted to stay with her clutched in his arms, but duty called. “I better help that guy.”

She curled her lip through her teeth, and it was so damn sexy his cock throbbed to life. She cupped his cheek. “Go do what you have to . . . but we still have some things to discuss.”

He blinked at her, hoping the things she was referring to started with them getting naked and ended with tangled sheets.

She giggled again, and certain she could read the steamy thoughts scrolling through his head, he released her hand, pushed to his feet, and strode toward Soda, trying to redirect his focus to their captive rather than Sienna’s tantalizing promise.

“Soda, release.”

Obeying, she backed away yet maintained her laser focus as Rusty zip-tied the young man’s wrists and eased him onto his side. The kid’s breaths came in shallow gasps, and his eyes were wide with terror. He was another young life poisoned by Wang’s golden promises and dirty money.

Rusty dropped to a crouch before him. “What’s your name?”

“Tommy,” he whispered, keeping his gaze on the floor.

“Stay put, Tommy. I’ll be back.” Rusty kept his tone steady and professional.

“What—what are you going to—?” Panic clawed at the edges of Tommy’s words.

“Easy now.” Rusty squeezed the kid’s shoulder, trying to ground him. “Just breathe. I’ll be right back.”

He crossed to Soda, who hadn’t shifted an inch.

“Good girl.” He scratched that sweet spot between her ears, and her tail wagged. “On my heel.”

She’d earned herself the works tonight: a long soak in a warm tub and a massive pot of his beef stew that she went crazy for. But he had a heck of a lot to do before then.

With Soda ghosting his footsteps, Rusty circled the room. Those thunderous booms he’d heard right after the power went out were security doors dropping into position like modern-day drawbridges. Every exit was sealed and locked down tighter than a prison, and there was no way out of there without backup or a damn miracle.

Rusty stationed Soda to watch Tommy again before striding toward Sienna who was wrapped in an embrace with the Colombian woman who’d saved Pickle. They clung to each other, their heads bent together, and they both talked at the same time as tears spilled down their cheeks.

Sienna looked up as he approached, and her eyes glistened with tears. “Maria, this is Rusty.”

Maria captured his hand in both of hers, and her grip was surprisingly strong. “ Gracias, senor. You and Sienna saved us all.” Her voice cracked with emotion. “I thought . . . I thought we would vanish forever. Like the others.”

The others? Maybe his hunch about the woman in the basement was right, and she was with these victims. He made a mental note to mention that to his father.

“Thank you for protecting our little dog,” Rusty said to Maria. “That took real courage.”

“I love dogs.” Maria’s smile wavered as her gaze drifted to Soda. “Though yours . . . is terrifying.”

“Nah, she’s just a big softie who takes her job seriously.” Pride swelled through him. “She’s an exceptional soldier doing what she’s trained for.”

Sienna’s fingers found his, sending warmth cascading through his chest. “You’re an exceptional soldier, too. You saved us all.”

“Ex-soldier,” he corrected gently. “And speaking of saving . . .”

He squeezed her hand before releasing it and strode to Wang’s crumpled form. He patted down the dead man’s pockets until he found the phone Wang had used earlier.

He held the phone to Wang’s face, and it unlocked.

“Lucky someone invented facial recognition,” he said, winking at Sienna, and she smiled.

Rusty punched in the first of only two numbers permanently etched in his brain: Ethan from Charlie Team, his brothers in arms, and the man he’d served alongside for nearly a decade.

“Yo . . . you got Ethan.” The familiar drawl brought an unexpected wave of emotion.

“Man, am I glad to hear your voice.”

“Mom? That you?” Ethan’s smartass comments never got tiring.

“Close. “ Rusty moved toward the edge of the stage, scanning the darkness. “Listen, I’m in a situation.” He quickly summarized what happened. “I took Viktor Wang down and a dozen of his men?—”

“Now you’re just showing off,” Ethan said with a chuckle.

“Funny, but I tell you, these assholes are organized.”

“Not organized enough . . . obviously. Any still alive?”

“Yeah, two, and multiple civilians, but listen—” He lowered his voice. “Wang made a call before I got to him. There could be more tangos inbound. These guys are packing serious hardware, Ethan. Military grade. We’re going to need the full team.”

“Copy that.” All humor vanished from Ethan’s voice, replaced by the sharp focus Rusty remembered from many missions. “You can bank on Charlie Team. We’ll be there in two clicks.”

“Roger that. You’ll need to figure out how do get into the underground area, we came in via a very long lava tube.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll get in.”

“Good. And, Ethan?—”

“Yeah?”

“Watch your six. These bastards are desperate, and I know for a fact they’re willing to die for Wang.”

“Always do, brother.” Ethan’s gravelly voice held a moment of uncharacteristic softness. “Good to know you didn’t catch a bullet tonight. Kind of got used to having your ugly mug around.”

Rusty chuckled. “You and me both.”

As he ended the call, his attention magnetized to Sienna. She had Pickle crushed against her chest, and she laughed as she buried her face in the mutt’s scruff while Maria scratched behind his ears. Both women grinned as they cooed at the dog and brushed his fur, and it was impossible to fathom that they’d both just survived hell on earth.

The sight of Sienna laughing and smiling despite the blood and chaos around her hit him like a physical blow. Eighteen years ago, they’d both been like that: carefree, wild, living for the moment.

The years had changed him, carved away his youthfulness until all that remained was granite and steel. Where he now carried darkness, she still radiated that same pure light. While he cataloged threats, she found joy in simple moments. His battle-hardened body ached for that forgotten piece of himself that he barely remembered.

She tossed her head back in a wild giggle that loosened something so very tight in his chest. Yeah, he thought, allowing a smile to tug at his mouth . . . I’m real fucking glad we didn’t get dead tonight.

Maybe he could find a way back to that version of himself that knew how to live, not just survive. The one worthy of her wild light.

Forcing down memories of her delicious body lying naked beneath him, he made the call he’d been dreading.

“Police Chief Dave Callahan,” his father answered on the first ring.

“Hey, Dad. Now, don’t get mad?—”

“Christ, Rusty, what have you done this time?”

“For the record, I didn’t start it.”

“Okay. As long as I don’t need body bags, I can handle it.”

Rusty winced. “About that . . .”

“Son of a— Who’s dead?”

“Viktor Wang. For starters.”

“What the fuck?” Dave’s voice shot up an octave. “Viktor Wang? And what do you mean ‘for starters’?”

“Sorry, Dad. It’s bad.” Rusty pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, fighting a headache that was bound to come. “I’m at the Pearl Lagoon Resort. We found a hidden area beneath the resort where Wang was running human trafficking auctions.”

His dad’s sharp intake of breath spoke volumes.

“We interrupted him auctioning off six women.”

“Christ almighty!”

“Sienna killed the power to the area, but before she shut off the live feed, she ID’d one of the buyers.” Rusty leaned against a pillar. “You might want to sit down for this.”

Dave groaned like he had an ulcer. “I’m sitting. Who?”

“Howard Whitney Williams. You know . . . that pastor from the megachurch, New Hope or something.”

Dave’s silence stretched so long that Rusty checked to see if the call had dropped.

“Dad?”

“I’m here.” His father’s voice had aged twenty years in twenty seconds.” Jesus H. Christ, that’s . . .”

“Fucked?”

“Yeah. That.”

“Well, it gets worse.” Rusty searched for Grace and found her huddled with the other survivors. The young girl’s gold cross glinted in Tommy’s flashlight which was still on the floor. “One of the victims was his daughter, Grace Williams. Remember Sarah, that desperate mother in your office? The one we argued about?”

“Ah hell . . .” His father’s voice cracked, followed by a heavy silence that made Rusty’s chest tighten. “I should’ve listened to you, son. I was wrong.”

“It’s okay, Dad, we would never have predicted this level of fucked up.”

“You got that right. So, how many bodies?”

Rusty did a quick mental count. “About ten. Maybe twelve.”

“Fuck me. That’s a goddamn massacre. You could have been?—”

“I’m fine, and everyone who matters is safe. We saved all six trafficking victims, plus one very lucky dog.” Rusty huffed, watching Pickle nuzzle into Sienna’s arms. That little mutt caused pure chaos but ended up being the hero we didn’t know we needed.

Dave released a heavy exhale. “Thank God. Who’s ‘we’?”

“Sienna handled the tech side, and Soda took down a few tangos.”

“Sienna?”

“You’ll meet her soon enough.”

Dave sighed like the weight of the world had just crashed onto his shoulders. “Right. I’ll mobilize the squad.”

“We’ll need ambulances for the women. And your best cyber team—there’s a whole network of buyers we need to nail. Or Bellamy can help. You know he’s damn good with cracking?—”

“We’ve got it. Anything else?”

“I could murder a pizza right now.”

“Unbelievable,” Dave muttered. “Stay put. I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”

“Oh, and Dad? I called in Charlie Team.”

“The hell? Why?”

“Wang made a call before he died, and I think he ordered in backup. Hence Charlie Team. So yeah, maybe pack extra body bags.”

“Christ almighty. I should’ve retired last year.”

Despite everything, Rusty smiled. His old man had been threatening retirement since before Rusty joined Brotherhood Protectors. Truth was, his father lived for shit like this and the messier, the better.

Rusty pocketed Wang’s phone and crossed back to Tommy, who hadn’t moved an inch under Soda’s unwavering stare. The kid’s face was pressed against the floor, shoulders trembling, and he looked about as threatening as a wet kitten.

“All right, Tommy.” Rusty crouched beside him. “Let’s talk about your options.”

“I didn’t know about the women,” he said, the words tumbling out. “I swear to God, I just thought it was drugs. Wang said it was just drugs.”

Rusty studied him for a long moment. The kid’s terror seemed genuine enough, but he’d learned the hard way that appearances could be deceiving. “How long have you been working for him?”

“Three months. I needed money for rent and stuff.” Tommy’s high-pitched voice sounded like he’d sucked helium. “Wang made it sound easy.”

“Nothing about Wang was easy.” Rusty shifted, blocking Tommy’s view of what was left of his former boss. “Here’s how this plays out. The cops are minutes away, so you either go down for your involvement in Wang’s human trafficking and spend a very long time behind bars, or you help us unravel this entire operation and you might get a lighter sentence.”

“But . . . but . . .” Tommy’s breath shortened. “They’ll kill me.”

“We’ll protect you.” Rusty lowered his voice. “But only if you help us with names, locations, and whatever you’ve got. Look at me. Does this seem like my first rodeo?”

Tommy’s eyes darted from him to the women, to Soda, and then back to Rusty. Something shifted in his expression, not quite trust, but maybe hope. “I’ve heard promises before.”

“This isn’t a promise. It’s a guarantee.” Rusty would make damn sure Dave kept Rusty’s word. “The police chief is my father. You help us, and we’ll shield you. Simple as that.”

Tommy’s shoulders sagged with less defiance.

Rusty pressed his hand to Tommy’s shoulder. “Hey. You have my word.”

His lip twitched, and Rusty had the impression Tommy had commitments like that broken many times before.

Tommy huffed out a breath. “Okay. I’ll help. Just . . . can you stop your dog from looking at me like that?”

Soda’s intense focus hadn’t wavered.

“Soda, ease.”

She settled on her haunches but maintained her guard position.

“Better?”

Tommy nodded weakly.

“Good. Now, let’s start with who Wang called right before we crashed his party.”

“I don’t know.”

“What about the assholes buying the girls—who are they?”

“I swear I don’t know. I wasn’t involved in any of?—”

A door exploded inward, and the crash echoed like a thunderclap in the enclosed space. The women’s screams pierced the air as Rusty pivoted and brought up his weapon in a single fluid motion. His heart slammed against his ribs as dark figures in tactical gear flooded through the entrance like living shadows.

The familiar silhouettes of K9s moving alongside their handlers made his trigger finger ease off. “Stand down!” he shouted, sprinting toward Sienna with his hands up. “We’re friendlies!”

He reached her in three long strides and squeezed her hand. “It’s okay. These guys are on my team,” he murmured.

Bellamy’s massive frame led the assault team, moving with surprising grace for his size. Cooper stayed tight to his shoulder, and between them, Whiskey flowed like liquid coal across the stage.

“Clear!” Bellamy’s voice boomed off the walls.

Rusty holstered his weapon, and his racing pulse finally settled. “And the perimeter?”

Bellamy swept his gaze across the carnage. “No movement outside, and the place is dead quiet.”

A soft whimper drew Rusty’s attention to Soda. As usual, her bearing dissolved at the sight of her sister, Whiskey. He’d tried to train this response out of her during their early days together but eventually stopped fighting it. Maybe it was because he’d grown up as an only child, but something about their unshakeable bond touched him. When Soda’s tail started wagging and she shifted her weight, eager to abandon her guard position, he smiled and said, “Soda, free.”

The command released something primal in both dogs, and Soda and Whiskey transformed from hardened military assets into puppies, spinning and play-bowing across the blood-stained stage while their handlers locked down the scene. The simple joy of their reunion cut through the heavy atmosphere like a blade of light through the darkness.

“So, no resistance at all?” Rusty asked again, surprised that they hadn’t encountered a gunfight on their way in.

“Not a whisper.” Bellamy’s mouth twisted. “Word of this bloodbath probably spread, and they bolted while they had the chance.” He eyeballed the scattered bodies, shell casings, and blood splatters across the stage. “Looking at this, though, can’t say I blame them for cutting their losses.”

When Coop’s gaze landed on Wang, a wolfish grin split his face. “Nice shooting. But damn, you could’ve saved some target practice for the rest of us.”

Rusty clasped his offered hand. “Next time I’ll try to leave you some scraps.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Ethan emerged from the shadows like a wraith, and his piercing gaze swept the carnage as Mojo’s midnight coat blended seamlessly with his handler’s tactical gear. “When you said ‘situation,’ I figured maybe a few tangos needed sorting out. Not this. It looks like the goddamn OK Corral met Black Hawk Down.”

“There’s more.” Rusty tilted his head toward the upper level. The battle up there already seemed like days ago.

Ethan’s flashlight beam carved through the darkness, sweeping across the balcony before dropping to where two bodies lay twisted on the marble floor below with limbs bent at impossible angles. “Seems some of them chose the scenic route.”

“One of them opted to take the forty-foot drop rather than take his chances with Soda.”

Cooper let out a low whistle. “Can’t fault that. Quick death beats pissed-off military dog fangs.”

Bellamy crouched beside Wang’s corpse, and as Tucker’s nose twitched at the pooling blood, Bellamy pushed up the dead man’s sleeve, revealing intricate tattoos beneath. “Son of a bitch!” He sucked air between his teeth. “Yakuza. Full fucking sleeve. That explains the small army he had on the payroll.” He used his phone to snap photos.

“They picked the wrong day to test their combat effectiveness.” Ethan’s voice carried a note of professional admiration as he studied the precise shot placement centered between Wang’s eyes. “That’s some serious marksmanship under pressure.”

“Bastard used Sienna as a shield.” Rusty clenched his fist as rage still burned hot over those precious seconds that could have cost him everything. “Nearly lost her before I got the kill shot.”

“Sienna?” Ethan’s gaze shifted to the cluster of women. The trafficking victims huddled together at the edge of the stage with the robes clutched tight around their bodies and their eyes still wide with lingering terror. But Sienna stood apart from them, her spine as straight as steel despite the angry red marks blooming on her throat. Her stance screamed fighter rather than victim.

Rusty opened his mouth to explain who she was, then closed it. How the hell could he sum her up? The woman who’d owned his heart eighteen years ago. The warrior who’d just helped dismantle a trafficking ring. Each time he glanced her way, her beauty hit him all over again, making his heart stutter like some lovesick rookie.

“Hold up . . .” Ethan’s face split into a knowing grin. “Don’t tell me you saved the day and got the girl.”

Rusty’s answering grin tugged at his mouth, and he waggled his eyebrows. “That’s the plan.”

Bellamy straightened, tucking his phone back into his pocket, and released a low whistle. “Jesus, Rusty, with a body count like this, you must’ve put a serious dent in the Yakuza operation on this island.”

Rusty’s jaw tightened. After years of hunting criminal organizations like this, he knew better. “They’ll rebuild. They always do.” The words tasted bitter. “We cut them off at the knees, they grow new legs. And they all seem to have brothers. The only question is where they’ll pop up next time.”

“Incoming.” Dave’s voice boomed from the doorway.

Rusty turned as his dad marched into the room, hoisting up his trousers and scowling so deep it was a wonder he could see.

“What a bloody mess!” he roared as he stepped onto the stage, shaking his head.

“Hey, Dave.” Bellamy shook his hand.

Rusty’s dad seemed lost for words as he shook hands with everyone while scanning the bodies dotted around the room.

A dozen uniforms flooded the area—cops with rifles up, paramedics hauling gear, crime scene techs already snapping photos. Controlled chaos swept through the area like a tide. Through it all, many of his teammates kept glancing at Sienna, probably wondering about the stunning strawberry-blonde who’d gotten tangled up in this mess.

Knowing he couldn’t hold off the inevitable questions much longer, Rusty strode to her. “Got a minute?”

As a frown rippled her forehead, she curled her hair behind her ear. “Sure.”

He took her hand, leading her back to Charlie Team and his dad, who were huddled over Wang’s body like ravens.

“Everyone, this is Sienna.” Rusty made the introductions, and as she shook hands around the circle, her slim fingers disappeared into each man’s grip. “She’s the reason we found this place.”

Sienna puffed out her cheeks and rattled her lips. “It was purely an accident, I assure you.”

“Hell of an accident,” Rusty said. “Sienna caught a couple of bastards burying a body.”

“What?” Dave frowned. “Where?”

Together, Rusty and Sienna described where she saw the two men digging.

“But the person in the tarp wasn’t dead,” Sienna said. She looked to Rusty, and he guessed she wanted him to help explain.

Between them, Rusty and Sienna detailed what she saw, and how the men’s tracks and the grave site had vanished by the time she led Rusty back through the lava tube to where she’d seen them digging.

“I’ll take Mojo and check it out again,” Ethan said, his hand settling on his Belgian Malinois’s muscled shoulder.

“We’ll join you,” Cooper added, whistling for Whiskey. His K9 was still racing around with Soda, both dogs riding an adrenaline high that defied logic.

“Hold up,” Dave said. “I still don’t understand how you found this place.” Shaking his head, he swept his gaze over the stage and landed his attention back on Rusty.

Bouncing the story between them, Rusty and Sienna summarized how they became trapped in the lava tube and found the secret door that led to the underground nightmare beneath the resort. Their words flowed perfectly like they’d been sharing their stories together for years.

Damn it felt good.

Rusty clicked his fingers. “Oh, I almost forgot, you’ll need three more body bags for the men I dropped in the lava tube.”

Dave groaned like he had a massive bellyache.

“Come on, Chief.” Ethan clapped Dave’s shoulder. “Only the crooked bastards died. Your son saved lives today.” He gestured toward the victims being treated by the paramedics.

Rusty squeezed Sienna’s hand. “Sienna did, too.”

“And Soda,” she added, her smile hitting him like sunlight through storm clouds. Then she scrunched her nose. “I just hope the rest of those monsters rot in prison.”

“The rest?” Dave’s head snapped up.

“Yes. The creeps who were bidding for those poor women.” Her words caught in her throat.

“Hopefully.” Dave groaned. “But so far, nearly every time we try to catch perps like that, they vanish without a trace.” Dave’s jaw tightened.

“But even ghosts leave digital footprints.” Bellamy uncrossed his arms. “Charlie Team will help.”

Dave squinted at Bellamy, then he said, “Listen, Sienna. Our best cyber team will be on this. We’ll nail these bastards to the wall.” Dave’s voice carried the weight of iron.

Sienna straightened and nodded. “Well, tell your cyber team the livestream bounced through proxy servers in Singapore, Romania, and the UAE. They got sloppy, though, and used outdated SSL encryption that left timestamp artifacts in the metadata. I wrote a script to track the bounce patterns, then used those timestamps to triangulate the origin point and implanted a code that will access the buyers’ details.”

She shrugged like she hadn’t just cracked a case that might have taken Dave’s team weeks to unravel. “Your experts can use the same method to trace those bidders. And if they need help with my script . . . I want to help. Let me help.”

The men stared at her like she’d started speaking in tongues, all except Bellamy. As Charlie Team’s resident tech genius, his eyes had gone wide with understanding, then wider with admiration. His fingers actually twitched like he was itching to get his hands on that script.

Dave’s jaw slackened, and the respect that flooded his features made Rusty’s chest swell with pride.

“Something tells me they’ll be calling you.” He gave her a nod. “Thank you for the offer. It’s high time we nailed these sons of bitches.”

“I mean it,” she said. “Especially Howard Whitney Williams.” The name seemed to crash off her tongue. “That creep was bidding even though his daughter was one of the victims.” She jerked her chin toward the women. “She’s over there. Poor girl will be traumatized forever.”

“What the fuck?” Bellamy staggered back.

“You mean Doctor Williams, the televangelist?” Ethan’s face twisted with disgust. “The one always screaming about family values and eternal damnation?”

“That’s him.” Sienna scowled. “Creep.”

“Son of a bitch.” Dave checked his watch, and his expression darkened. “His wife told me they were heading back to Oregon today. He’ll be making for the airport now.”

“Not if we get there first.” Bellamy’s growl promised retribution. “Let’s go.” Bellamy led the Charlie Team charge for the door with their K9s matching their stride.

At the edge of the stage, Ethan pivoted back to Rusty. “You coming?”

Rusty’s gaze swung between Sienna and his teammates.

“Go.” Sienna squeezed his hand. “Take that bastard down. For Grace.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay, but only if you promise to get those checked.” His fingers ghosted near the angry marks blooming on her throat, not quite touching.

“I will.” She offered a gentle smile.

“And tell them you were knocked unconscious.”

She frowned like she’d forgotten all about falling into the lava tube, and when her hand drifted to the back of her head, she winced.

“Okay? Promise me you’ll get checked,” he said.

“Rusty!” Ethan’s voice boomed across the room. “Move your ass!”

“I’m coming! Christ.” He turned back to Sienna, rolling his eyes. “Impatient bastard.” He hesitated, choosing his next words. “Do you remember that little cove we . . . spent some time in?”

Some time? Jesus. Like those perfect summer nights could be reduced to such an inadequate phrase.

“Of course. Makalawena Beach.” Her smile reached her eyes, making the golden flecks in her irises dance under the harsh emergency lights.

Oh yeah. She remembered.

“Give me two days to wrap this mess up. Then maybe we could?—”

“Yes.” The word burst from her lips before he could finish, swift and sure as a heartbeat.

He chuckled, warmth blooming in his chest like sunrise. “Four in the afternoon work for you?”

“Sure.” Her smile unfurled, slow and promising. “Should I bring my swimsuit?”

“Absolutely.” His mouth ran ahead of his brain as he pictured her stunning body in her tiny bikini.

Her giggle hit him like a wave of memories—that tiny red bikini that had nearly stopped his heart, the taste of salt on her sun-warmed skin, those spectacular sunsets she’d dragged him to the beach to watch, making him see beauty he’d never noticed before.

The way, eighteen years ago, she’d made him believe in forever.

She caught his face between her hands and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “Now go. I’ll have more of those waiting for you when we get to that beach.”

“Hell yeah!” His whoop echoed off the marble columns, and several officers turned and stared.

He called Soda to his heel, and as he raced to catch up with Ethan, his mind careened over the lifetime between then and now. They’d crashed into one hell of a roadblock on their path to reunion, but somehow, they’d found their way back together. This time, Rusty had every intention of seeing his connection with Sienna through to happily ever after.

“Well, look who finally got the girl.” Ethan’s hand landed warm and solid between his shoulder blades. “About damn time, brother.”

“Yeah.” Heat crawled up Rusty’s neck, knowing he was grinning like a lovesick teenager.

“Would you look at that?” Ethan’s voice softened. “She’s already taught you how to smile again.”

The observation only made Rusty’s grin wider. But as their SUV tore away from the resort, reality settled cold in his gut. Just like eighteen years ago, Sienna was only there on vacation. The thought of watching her walk away again carved a hollow space beneath his ribs.

No fucking way. This time had to be different.

He just didn’t know how to make that happen.