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The man blinked up at him, his gaze sharpening for the first time. “Gareth,” he croaked. “Gareth Lawrence.”
The name didn’t immediately ring any bells, but that didn’t mean much. The military world was vast, and not every name would be known, even among those with similar backgrounds. But there was something in the way Gareth said it as if he expected it to mean something to Pierce.
“Where was he headed?”
Rhiannon sent him a questioning sideways glance but asked the question.
Gareth hesitated. Just for a fraction of a second, but it was enough. “I was just passing through,” he finally said. “On my way to meet someone.”
The answer was vague, deliberately so.
Fuck.
“Pierce,” Rhiannon said sharply, cutting through his thoughts.
He blinked over at her.
“We need to get him out of here before the ceiling collapses. He’s lost a lot of blood. I don’t think anything’s broken, but he’s in shock.”
Right. Whether or not the guy was lying didn’t really matter right now. Not when they were all trapped in a time bomb of a crumbling structure. They had to move.
Together, they lifted Gareth, careful not to jostle him too much. As they carried him back toward the intact part of the gift shop, Pierce kept a wary eye on the surrounding debris, alert for any signs of further collapse. Every step felt like a calculated risk, but they managed to make it back without incident.
The group looked up as they entered, a mix of relief and apprehension on their faces.
Brooke rushed forward, her eyes wide with concern. “Is he okay?”
“He’ll be fine,” Rhiannon said. “We just need to get him settled and keep him warm. Can you get him a blanket?”
Brooke grabbed one from one of the shelves that had miraculously survived the initial quake. As Brooke draped it over Gareth, Pierce crouched down beside him, watching the man’s face closely.
Gareth’s eyes flickered open again, and for a brief moment, their gazes locked. Pierce saw something there—something that made his skin prickle with unease. But before he could decipher it, Gareth’s eyes slid shut, and he fell unconscious.
“We need to search him. Now.”
Rhiannon’s eyes widened, and her mouth opened in surprise. “What? Search him? Why?”
He ignored her and gestured for Brooke and Dottie to step back, giving them some space.
“Is everything okay?” Dottie asked.
“Yes, it’s okay. We’ll take care of this,” Rhiannon said quietly, her voice calm but firm. “Just give us a minute. Can you go check on Michael, please?”
Brooke hesitated, but Dottie gently took her arm and led her away, leaving them alone with Gareth. Rhiannon watched in silence as he carefully patted down Gareth’s pockets. He was methodical, searching every inch of clothing.
“Pierce,” she finally said on a soft exhale. “Stop. He’s injured. Can’t this wait?—”
He found a gun tucked into a holster at Gareth’s side, and Rhiannon fell silent. A heavy-duty combat knife was also strapped into a sheath on Gareth’s leg, and etched on the leather was the sharp logo of Halston.
Fuck.
His instincts had been right all along. This guy wasn’t some innocent tourist who got caught in the middle of an earthquake. He was affiliated with Halston, the private military group, and where Halston was, there were hidden agendas.
He continued his search and found a crumpled piece of paper in the man’s jacket pocket. He unfolded it.
A map—hand-drawn and detailed, with markings indicating various locations in the surrounding area. One of those marked locations was Redwood Coast Rescue. Another was Pierce’s apartment in a sweet, semi-senile little old lady’s garage across the street from the rescue.
Gareth was here for him.
