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.
He tensed. “What’s wrong?”
“I so didn’t need to think of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream at the moment.”
His muscles melted back onto the concrete slab. “So your smarmy ex didn’t like your job choice.”
Ex-boyfriend or ex-husband?
“He put me through law school and expected we would lead a more comfortable life once I graduated. When he found out otherwise, we got one of those ‘irreconcilable differences’ divorces. No kids. Little money. It was quick and far from painless.”
“Sounds like he was a jackass.” What kind of dumb shit threw away a family?
“Jackass… jerk… cheating scumbag. But he knows what he wants. He’s happily married to one of my law-school classmates. Apparently he’d been sleeping with her for months before we split, something he felt compelled to confess—after he’d gotten his fifty-fifty, irreconcilable-differences divorce. From what I hear, they never see each other but they have a crap ton of money to spend on themselves and their two-point-two children. Not that I’m bitter or anything.”
“Regrets bite.”
“You said it.” She finger-doodled small circles in the dirt. “I should probably forgive him in case I don’t make it. But then that would be kinda hypocritical, since if I knew for sure I was going to make it, I would kick the rat bastard in the gonads.”
A laugh burst out of him. “Lady, if we could harness your spirit, we could lift this building right off you in a heartbeat.”
“Yeah, he said I was emasculating.”
Hugh was thinking maybe he might like to look this guy up, use him for a refresher course on martial arts skills. After missions like this one, he needed to blow off steam.