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“Tell me,”Pierce signed. “What’s your drug of choice, andhow long since your last fix?”
When she translated, Dean recoiled as if slapped. He stumbled back, shaking his head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Pierce simply waited, staring at him with those unwavering hazel eyes.“That’s okay. I already have a pretty good idea. Heroin. And since withdrawal can set in within six to twelve hours of the last dose, I’d say it’s been about… eight hours. How am I doing so far?”
Dean’s face turned a sickly shade of pale, his lips parting as if he wanted to argue, but no sound came out. He seemed to shrink under Pierce’s steady gaze, looking like a frightened child rather than the confrontational man he had been just moments ago.
“Don’t lie,”Pierce signed with slow deliberation.“We can’t help unless we know.”
Dean didn’t give her the opportunity to translate and spun on his heels, stalking off toward a dark corner of the shop with defiance in every step.
“He doesn’t want our help,”Pierce said.“And until he does, until he accepts he needs it, nothing we do will make a difference. Your brother taught me that.”
She whirled on him. “Rylan wouldn’t give up on him. Neither should we.”
Pierce raised his hands like he was going to say something more, but he didn’t get the chance.
Dot appeared, her eyes bright in her dirty face. “That man you found… Gareth? He’s awake.”
Rhiannon’s heart leaped at the news. This was good, wasn’t it? But one look at Pierce made her stomach twist with uncertainty. His gaze clouded over, his face hardening into a stony mask. She could almost see the walls rising around him, higher and thicker than before.
“Is he asking for anything?”Pierce’s hands moved quickly, his attention entirely on Dot now.
Dot looked to her for translation, then shook her head. “He asked for water, but that’s it. He’s just… sitting there. Watching us.”
Pierce stood still for a moment, his shoulders locked tight. Then he strode down one of the aisles that was still standing and snapped up a pack of pens.“Paper?”he signed.
Instead of translating the request, Rhiannon blocked his path. “What are you doing?”
“I need to talk to him.”
“Okay, then I can translate for you?—”
“Alone.”
She scowled at him and crossed her arms over her chest. “Why?”
The look in his eyes was cold, practically glacial. His hands moved with a sharp deliberateness that showed his annoyance.“Because the questions I need to ask him are classified.”
She looked at Dot, who was watching them with thinly concealed interest, then decided to switch to sign language.“What do you mean, classified?”
“Exactly what you think I mean. C. L. A. S. S. I. F. I. E. D.”He actually finger-spelled it out instead of using the sign.“It’s the kind of information that could put lives at risk if it were to get into the wrong hands.”
“So you’re going to write it down?”She snatched the package of pens from him and asked out loud, “How is that any less risky? Paper can be stolen, read, copied. You’re being ridiculous.”
His lips flattened into a grim line.“I don’t want you involved.”
His abrupt dismissal stung, but Rhiannon swallowed the hurt. She knew he didn’t mean it cruelly— Pierce was nothing if not practical. But she couldn’t help but feel shut out, dismissed. “Well, like it or not, I’m already involved.”
His hands stilled, and he looked at her for a moment, his expression inscrutable.“Rhia, this is the kind of stuff you don’t want to know about.”
Her temper flared, and she switched back to ASL.“You don’t get to decide that for me, Pierce St. James.”
“Yes, I do. I am responsible for your safety.”
“Says who? You’re not my keeper.”
“I think your brother would disagree.”
