“You know...so you’d have to ask my name. And if you asked my name, then you might feel less inclined to...uh...kill me.”
“Kill you?”
“If you happened to be some kind of hired killer.”
His eyebrows lifted marginally, and she swore his lips twitched with a hint of amusement. “If I was a hired killer, and I was hired to kill you, wouldn’t I already know your name?”
Alessandra sagged a little. “I didn’t say I thought it through very well.”
Now one of his eyebrows went even higher, and his response was flat. “Unless I was hired to kill someone else, and you’re a witness. And therefore collateral damage.”
She stood up straighter, her mouth going dry as her eyes dropped to his weapon once more. Why hadn’t that occurred to her?
Maybe because everything you think you know about killers is based on questionable late-night crime dramas on TV?
“Thinking about trying to wrestle it away from me?” he asked in a low voice.
Her eyes jerked up, and she knew her answer was both too quick and too emphatic. “No!”
“Good. Because you wouldn’t be successful. And I’d hate to accidentally get shot in the foot.”
“I wouldn’t...” She trailed off as she caught another twitch of his lips. “You’re just making fun of me, aren’t you?”
His face stayed straight. “I’m actually more concerned for your safety now than I was when I thought you might’ve been eaten by a bear.”
“You are mocking me. But I don’t care. It’s more normal to not know how contract killing works.”
“Hmm.”
“What?”
“You have to admit. It’s not really normal at all to assume someone is a contract killer.”
Alessandra pressed her lips together, forced her mind not to dwell, then sighed and said, “Normal’s relative, isn’t it?”
“So I hear.”
There was a grimace in his words, but he didn’t elaborate on what he meant. And before Alessandra could inquire about it—and she was strangely curious about him and about what his normal was—he turned his attention away from her and back to the opening above.
“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.
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