“Master sergeant.”
Yeah, she could sink into the comfort of questioning him, like a lawyer finding out as much as possible about the man sent down here to rescue her. The more she knew, the more she controlled her world. Or so she hoped. “Where are you from, Hugh Franco?”
“I’m stationed in Florida.” He shifted beside her, extending a leg. To get more comfortable?
“I’m from Alabama. I was looking forward to helping my brother, Aiden, then hanging out at the beach here with his wife and their son.”
Debris showered on her head. She stifled a scream.
She bit her lip until she tasted blood. Once the dust settled, she scrunched her nose. “Sorry. I should be used to it by now, huh? People call me a bulldog in the courtroom, but inside, I’m a total wimp. I can’t stand mice or snakes. I cover my eyes during scary movies or gory scenes. I don’t feel brave at all.”
Especially not in comparison to him. She studied his big muscled body, the way he seemed so relaxed and prepped for action all at once. He listened to her, checked her pulse, all while periodically pressing a couple of fingers to his helmet in a way she’d realized meant he was listening in on his headset. He managed a million tasks at once while she wrestled with just lying around waiting to be rescued.
She swallowed hard, scared as hell and unable to stop herself from asking for even more from this seemingly invulnerable man. “Do you think you could hold my hand?”
“Yes, ma’am, I sure can.” His broad palm slid against her, callused fingers wrapping around her.
His work glove lay on the ground beside him and she realized how he’d been forced to take off that bit of protective gear to tend her. She’d been selfish, asking for him to stay even a second longer.
She squeezed hard then let go. “Okay, I’m good. I want you to leave now.”
“Not a chance.” He rolled to his back as if settling in for a nap. “I lose my Superman status if I check out on you.”
Right now, he sure looked as ripped and invincible as a superhero. Was he as tall as he appeared? Or was the confined space distorting her perception? Not that it mattered. What he was doing for her now… Superman material, no doubt.
Still, why would he risk staying here with her when he really couldn’t do anything more for her? Her brain raced to the only logical conclusion. “The exit closed off during the aftershock, didn’t it?”
He stuffed his pack under his head. “Can’t get anything past you, can I? Yeah, you’re stuck with me for the duration.”
***
She was too perceptive, and Hugh needed to keep her from rooting around in his brain for answers. While he could still leave here, he wasn’t one hundred percent sure she was as uninjured as she claimed.
And the kid on the other side of her? Once she realized that baby was dead, she would lose her shit and possibly injure herself. Give up. Die.
Not a f**king chance. Not as long as he was still breathing.
Logic said he should get his ass out of here, but with thoughts of Marissa still clanking around inside his thick skull, he wasn’t thinking so straight. What the hell had led him to spill his guts about the cat story, the one about when he’d first met his wife?
Had to be something to do with Amelia’s job training. Lawyers. Always digging around in people’s lives. “So why did you become a prosecutor? Why not some hotshot corporate attorney making the big bucks?”
“You sound like my ex.”
“Damn.” He laughed softly. “That’s harsh for the guy risking his ass for you here.”
She paused. “Maybe my ex was a great guy.”
Not if the tone of her voice was anything to go by. “Don’t think so. Rotten breakup?”
“Train wreck as bad as anything on a reality show.” She rubbed her thumb over her ring finger absently. “Still, for all you know it could have been my fault.”
Could be. But his purpose here was to distract her with happy thoughts. “If he lost you, he must be flawed.”
She rewarded him with a smile. “Ah, where were you when I was drowning my sorrows in pints of Ben and Jerry’s?”
“Chunky Monkey?
“Cherry Garcia.” She groaned.