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Dean’s sneer faltered, replaced by a flash of uncertainty. He opened his mouth to retort, but whatever he was going to say died in his throat. Pierce’s calm, controlled demeanor was more intimidating than any overt threat.
Pierce turned his back on Dean, dismissing him entirely as he moved toward the entrance of the shop.“How far is the nearest town?”
“I don’t know. Maybeten miles down the highway?” Dottie said.“Why?”
Pierce didn’t answer the question and instead signed,“Structurally, there might be damage we haven’t seen yet that aftershocks could make worse. We need to reinforce any weak spots we find on the ceiling or walls and keep a close watch for any changes. This is our shelter, and besides water, shelter is the one other thing you need to stay alive in a survival situation.”
When Rhiannon finished translating, the room fell into a tense silence. Everyone watched him, waiting for his next move. Even Raszta, who had been lying calmly beside Michael, lifted his head, his sharp eyes tracking Pierce’s every step.
A knot of anxiety settled in Rhiannon’s stomach as she watched him study the walls. She anxiously twisted a strand of her hair around her finger—an old, hated habit she had never quite managed to shake off. He suddenly stopped moving and stared out at the landscape that was barely visible through the piles of rocks blocking the cracked, dusty windows. His posture was rigid, his fists clenched at his sides.
“What is it?” she asked softly.
He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he slowly lifted his hand and pointed toward the distant horizon. She stood on her toes and squinted, trying to make out what had caught hisattention. At first, she saw nothing but the darkened sky and the jagged outline of the mountains. Then, she saw it—a thick plume of smoke rising into the air, far off in the distance.
Her stomach dropped. “That’s... that’s not good, is it?”
Pierce shook his head, his expression grim.“That’s Steam Valley.”
She stared at him in horror, then looked back toward the smoke. A lump rose hot and hard in her throat. “Rylan.”
“I’m sure he’s okay. He’s with the team. They’ll have his back. They’re all okay.”He seemed to be trying to convince himself as much as her, but she could see the worry in his eyes. His gaze never left the plume of smoke rising ominously into the sky. Those hard hazel eyes of his seemed to darken as he watched the smoke billow into the air, and his stoic facade cracked ever so slightly.
He felt guilty for not being there to help his friends.
She got the feeling he was a man who carried more than his fair share of guilt.
She placed a comforting hand on his arm, her fingers barely brushing over the fabric of his shirt. He didn’t flinch or pull away; instead, his gaze flicked briefly toward her before returning to the distant smoke. In his eyes, she saw a deep well of vulnerability that he rarely allowed anyone to glimpse. It was as if the disaster had peeled back a layer of his carefully constructed armor to expose the raw edge underneath. And she wanted to comfort him.
“Rylan told me every man on your team is smart and resourceful,” she said. “They know how to take care of themselves.”
Pierce nodded but didn’t reply.
Feeling a sudden rush of protectiveness, she reached up and gently touched his face, drawing his gaze back to her. His eyesmet hers, and for several long moments, they simply looked at each other.
The intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down her spine, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she found herself moving closer, her hand instinctively curling around the back of his neck, just below the prominent scar that marked his skin. His breath hitched in response, and he closed his eyes for a moment, leaning into her touch.
“Your friends are strong,” she said softly. “They’ll get through this.”
His eyes fluttered open at her words, and the furrow between his brows softened as he looked at her. Slowly, he nodded, a grim acceptance in his expression as he pulled away. His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he turned back to survey the group inside the gift shop.
She exhaled softly. Being so close to him, with those intense eyes focused on her, she hadn’t been able to breathe properly. She was all too aware of the lingering warmth on her palm from where she’d touched him and the swarm of butterflies in her stomach. It wasn’t appropriate, given their circumstances, but she couldn’t deny that she was attracted to the man.
She watched him stride back to the group, moving like a man who was comfortable shouldering responsibility. His calm decisiveness steadied the room, and she could almost see the anxiety in people’s faces lessen as he took control.
She translated as he discussed routine checks of the building’s structure and a system for rationing food and water. Still, her attention was divided between keeping up with Pierce’s commanding presence and monitoring Dean’s reaction. He had slipped to the back of the crowd, his arms folded tightly over his chest, his face a mask of barely concealed resentment. She couldn’t put a finger on it, but something about Dean made her uneasy.
Brooke was right. That guy was trouble.
chapter
four
Pierce scannedthe damaged interior of the gift shop. The U-shaped counter in the center of the room where the registers sat was still intact, and there were still a few aisles standing in the far back corner and to the right of the registers, though most of the goods had been thrown from the shelves. Some of the glass doors of the coolers along the left wall had shattered, as had many of the kitschy knick-knacks that once lined the shelves to the right of the store. There was glass everywhere. Clothing racks had toppled. Overhead lighting fixtures swung precariously, emitting sporadic bursts of pale fluorescent light before succumbing to darkness again.
The place was a mess.
Not only that, but the building itself had taken a beating during the earthquake, and with the aftershocks, the structure felt precarious at best. Dust floated in the stale air, and the occasional creak of strained beams made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.
