Undercover Refuge. Melinda Di Lorenzo

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      “What do you think?” he asked.

      She craned her neck up to follow his gaze. “I think you should give me a boost so I can climb out.”

      “Then what? You find a branch, hang it down and pull me up?”

      “It works in the movies.”

      His eyes found hers again. “So it’s safe to assume you believe everything you see on TV or in the theater?”

      Alessandra’s face warmed. “Are you always this antagonistic?”

      “Only when I’m not out shooting strangers.”

      “Funny.”

      “Good to know that you think so.” His voice was dry. “I’ve been told my humor’s too macabre for most.”

      He brought his gaze back to her. His eyes were cool. Assessing. It made her wonder if she’d just imagined that glimpse of heat in them before. She started to shift from one foot to the other, then stopped abruptly as her knee brushed his.

      “Sorry,” she mumbled.

      Up went one of those eyebrows of his. “You’re going to have to do more than bump into me if you want a hand getting up there.”

      Even though there was no possible way he meant the words to have the dark, sexy edge that they did, Alessandra couldn’t help but hear some innuendo. And truthfully, it gave her a little thrill.

      She forced out a breath and made herself speak in a neutral voice. “Does this mean you’re buying into my idea?”

      “It means I’m wondering if I can trust you to stick around long enough to make sure I get out, too.”

      “I wouldn’t leave you here.”

      “No?”

      “Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. My car’s in the ditch, remember?”

      “That’s true. But I’ve got some rope in the Lada. Keys are in there, too, so...” He shrugged.

      She rolled her eyes. “Right. I’ll just steal your not-really-a-truck truck, and I’ll be on my way.”

      “You assumed I was an assassin. I don’t think suggesting you might commit a crime of opportunity is on the same level.”

      “You’re not going to let that go, are you?”

      “Probably not,” he admitted. “Come closer.”

      She started to tell him she didn’t think she could get closer—there was barely breathing room as it was—but he made the first move anyway. He dropped to a crouch, threaded his fingers together at knee level, then cleared his throat and looked up expectantly.

      “Step up, bend a bit, put your hand on my shoulder, and let me know when you’re stable,” he told her.

      Alessandra only hesitated for a second before lifting a foot and pressing it into his hands. She took another moment to put her hand on his back, though. It seemed more personal. More intimate. And unsurprisingly, when she did touch finally touch him, he was rock solid.

       And warm.

      She shook off the too-pleased voice in her head and pushed up from the ground. She expected at least some give, but his palms didn’t move.

      “You good?” he asked with no sign of strain in his voice.

      “I’m up,” she confirmed.

      “Okay,” he replied. “Move your other hand to the side of hole. Make sure it’s firm, but keep your hand loose enough that you can let your fingers crawl up as I hoist you.”

      “You’re going to hoist me?” She didn’t know why she sounded so surprised.

      “That’s generally what happens when someone gives someone else a boost,” he said drily.

      “Right,” she muttered. “Okay. I’m ready.”

      “I think I can get you high enough that you should be able to rest your elbows on the ground above us. Put a knee or a foot on my shoulder if you have to.”

      “All right.”

      “Here we go.” He pushed her up, slowly but easily. “Hey, Red?”

      “Yes?”

      “I forgot to ask you...what’s your real name?”

      She started to answer him, but a familiar, masculine voice from overhead beat her to it.

      “Alessandra,” it announced.

      And it startled her so badly that she wobbled, then tumbled straight back down into the truck driver’s arms.

       Chapter 3

      Hearing his boss answer the question from above nearly made Rush drop the redhead—Alessandra, he told himself—straight to the ground. At the last second, he managed to stick his arms out to snatch her from the air. Her body hit his hard enough that he stumbled back and let out an “Oof!” and the noise earned an echoing chuckle from Jesse Garibaldi.

      Rush was just glad that the other man was too far up to see his expression. He was sure the wave of displeasure and unease that hit him at the man’s unexpected appearance had slipped past his usual mask. As he worked to get the carefully indifferent look back in place, he realized a little belatedly that while Garibaldi might not have spied the look, the woman in his arms definitely had. Her expression told him as much. It was easy to see the curiosity in her baby blues. Easy to read the question on her partially parted lips. She was looking right at him, far too interested for comfort’s sake.

       And she knows Jesse Garibaldi.

      That changed everything. Even if Rush couldn’t really say what “everything” meant to start out with. It was enough to make his mouth set into a thin line, and he eased her to ground, then directed his attention up, speaking in the gruff, slightly angry voice he knew Garibaldi would expect.

      “You just gonna stand up there and laugh at me, boss?” he called without looking up. “Or send down some help?”

      “What?” Jesse replied. “Looked like you were doing fine without me.”

      “Then why the hell are you here?”

      “Hmm. Now that’s a damned fine question.”

      Garibaldi stepped back and issued an order to someone while Rush mentally gritted his teeth. It really was a damned fine question. How the hell had Garibaldi tracked him there? And why? Who was Alessandra to the other man? Rush didn’t get a chance to come up with any answers before a pair СКАЧАТЬ