Chapter 19

chapter

nineteen

Rhiannon sat on the edge of the hospital bed, the sterile scent of antiseptic filling her nose as she stared at Michael's small form. His face was flushed with fever, but his breathing had finally stabilized. Relief surged through her as she brushed a damp lock of hair from his now-clean forehead.

"You're gonna be okay, buddy," she whispered.

It felt surreal to be here, in the hospital, after everything they'd been through. The chaos and tension of the past days were still a thick knot in her chest, and though she was exhausted, her mind refused to settle.

Michael stirred slightly, his hand twitching in his sleep. She smiled, the weight of worry slowly lifting.

He was okay.

They were all okay. Safe, whole, and alive.

A knock on the door drew her attention, and a nurse peeked her head in. "Excuse me, miss. You wanted me to let you know if anyone came in asking about Michael?"

Rhiannon straightened, her heart thudding in her chest. "Yes?"

The nurse smiled as she stepped into the room. "His parents are here."

His parents.

She had been so afraid they were gone—that this little boy had lost them forever. But they were alive, and now they were here.

"They're alive?" she asked, her voice shaky.

The nurse tilted her head toward the door. "They're right outside."

"Well, let them in!" She rose from the bed just as the door opened wider, revealing a man and a woman with tear-streaked faces, clutching each other as if afraid to let go. Their eyes locked onto Michael, and in that moment, the world seemed to stop.

"Michael!" his mother cried, rushing forward. She knelt by the bed, gently cradling her son's hand, her shoulders shaking with sobs. Michael's father stood frozen for a second before he stepped forward, his large frame trembling as he ran a hand over his son's head. " Thank you," he signed to Rhiannon. "Thank you for taking care of our boy."

A woman hung back in the doorway, her eyes brimming with tears, and echoed his signs in English. She must be their ASL interpreter.

Rhiannon nodded an acknowledgment to her, then signed, "It really wasn't a hardship. He's a very sweet boy."

"I don't know how we'll ever repay you," Michael's mother signed one-handed.

Rhiannon stepped back, giving them space, her chest tightening with emotion. She couldn't imagine what they must have gone through—the fear, the helplessness, not knowing if their son was alive or dead. And now, after everything, they were here, reunited.

Michael stirred again, his eyes fluttering open. When he saw his parents, a weak smile broke across his face. "Mommy… Daddy?"

Tears streamed down their faces as they pulled him into a gentle embrace. Rhiannon swallowed hard, blinking back her tears. She slipped out of the room, and the interpreter followed, quietly closing the door behind them.

"Hi," the woman said and held out a hand. "I'm Sarah, the Bennetts' friend and interpreter."

"Rhiannon," she replied, shaking Sarah's hand. "It's nice to meet you."

Sarah's eyes were still bright with tears. "What you did for our Mikey... it's incredible. You're a hero."

"Oh, I wouldn't go that far. Pierce saved him. Dottie, Brooke, and Hailey also helped take care of him. I was mostly just his interpreter."

Sarah squeezed her hand gently. "You gave him a voice in a situation where he otherwise wouldn't have had one. That's heroic in my book. Thank you." She looked through the narrow window in the door. "They've been looking for him for days. They walked to the nearest town after the quake and wouldn't stop pushing the authorities to search the remains of that rest shop for their boy. They never gave up hope. Not for a second."

Rhiannon's breath caught in her throat. Michael's parents were the reason they'd been found. If it weren't for them, they might still be trapped beneath the rubble.

"Then I owe them a thank you. They saved all of our lives. Please make sure they know that."

Sarah nodded. "I will."

Rhiannon walked away, the hum of hospital activity dulling her senses as she turned the corner at the end of the hall and leaned against the wall. She just needed a moment to breathe. To still exist and be thankful for it.

Then she drew herself up, threw her shoulders back, and continued down the hall. Reunions were happening all around her—Hailey with her parents; Dottie with her grown sons; Brooke with her father; the retired couple, Ray and Sharon, with their adult children; Will with his entire large family gathered around his bed.

And the Sasaki family was already on their way back to Japan.

Gage had strangely disappeared as soon as they were rescued, but she figured that was probably for the best.

She heard Alan's voice coming from one room and hurried by, her face turned away. She didn't want to see or talk to that man ever again. He hadn't claimed responsibility for any of the chaos he'd caused. Not one word of remorse for turning people against each other, for almost getting them killed.

Her stomach twisted in disgust at the thought. She tried to force the feeling away. It was unsettling, as if the ground beneath her feet wasn't as steady as it seemed.

But Alan wasn't her problem anymore.

Michael was safe. Pierce and Raszta were safe. And that was all that mattered.

She turned the corner and headed toward Pierce's room, her heart fluttering at the thought of seeing him. He'd protected her so thoroughly that he'd sustained more injuries than even she'd known about. The doctor wanted to keep him overnight for observation and IV antibiotics, which he wasn't thrilled about. He was even less thrilled when they tried to take Raszta from him. She smiled a little at the memory of him sitting on his bed in the hospital gown, IVs in his arm, holding Raszta like a child who refused to give up his teddy while the nurses and local shelter workers tried to remove the dog. She'd eventually managed to convince the hospital staff that Razzy was his service dog, though they didn't have the paperwork to prove it.

Rhiannon paused outside Pierce's room, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She pushed the door open quietly, not wanting to disturb him if he was resting.

Pierce was sitting up in bed, his eyes fixed on the television mounted on the wall. Raszta lay curled at his feet, ears perked and alert. As she entered, both man and dog turned to look at her.

Pierce's hands moved in a flurry of signs. "How's Michael?"

"He's awake." She moved to sit in the chair beside his bed and grinned. "His parents are here."

Pierce's eyes widened, a mix of relief and something else—regret, perhaps?—flashing across his face. "Are they okay?"

She nodded, her throat tightening with emotion. "They're alive and well. They've been searching for him since the earthquake. They never gave up hope. They're the reason we were found."

His shoulders relaxed, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. "That kid deserves a happy ending."

"We all do," Rhiannon said softly.

His eyes met hers, the hazel depths swirling with an intensity that made her breath catch. "We do." He moved over in the bed and patted the space beside him. "I need to hold you."

Her breath rushed out in something that sounded dangerously close to a sob as she crawled onto the bed and nestled into Pierce's side. His arm wrapped around her, pulling her close, and she felt the steady thrum of his heartbeat against her cheek. The warmth of his body seeped into her, chasing away the chill that had settled in her bones.

Raszta sent them an annoyed look and quietly slipped off the bed to stretch out on the floor.

For a long moment, they simply held each other. She breathed in his scent—a mix of antiseptic, sweat, and something uniquely him—and felt the last of her tension melt away.

Pierce's fingers traced gentle patterns on her arm, sending shivers down her spine. She tilted her head to look up at him, her breath catching at the intensity in his eyes. The warm golden flecks in his hazel irises seemed to glow in the soft hospital lighting, drawing her in like a moth to flame. His gaze dropped to her mouth and lingered there with naked longing.

Her lips tingled with anticipation. She lifted a hand to trace the strong line of his jaw, loving the feel of his rough stubble beneath her fingertips. He leaned into her touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

Pierce's eyes opened, locking onto hers with an intensity that made her heart race. His hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing softly across her skin. Rhiannon's breath hitched as he leaned in, his lips hovering just a hair's breadth from hers.

"Rhia," he mouthed, and although no sound left his lips, there was something revenant in the way he said her name.

She closed the minuscule distance between them, pressing her mouth to his in a kiss that sent sparks shooting through her entire body.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative and exploring. His lips were warm and slightly chapped, moving against hers with a gentleness that made her heart ache. She moaned into the kiss, her hand sliding up to tangle in his hair.

As if that small sound broke something loose inside him, Pierce growled softly, and his arm tightened around her waist, pulling her flush against him. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, seeking entrance, and she opened to him willingly, letting him take and devour. She met him stroke for stroke, reveling in the way he tasted, the way he felt against her.

And she wanted more.

Before she could think better of it, she straddled him. She could feel the heat of him through the thin hospital gown and her borrowed scrubs, the solid planes of his chest pressing against her breasts, the ridge of his cock nudging her right where she wanted him.

Pierce groaned, the sound rough and hungry. It vibrated through her as his fingers dug into her hips. The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more desperate. His tongue danced with hers, and she rocked against him instinctively, drawing a sharp hiss of breath from him.

His hands slid up her sides, fingers splaying across her ribcage, thumbs just brushing the undersides of her breasts as he traced his lips down the length of her neck. She arched into his touch, but it still wasn't enough. He wasn't close enough. She wanted to feel every inch of him, to erase the distance that remained between them, even if it was just the thin fabric of their clothes. She wanted to lose herself in him, to meld their bodies together until there was no distinction between them. She wanted him to consume her, to make her forget everything outside this moment.

She dragged his mouth back to hers and nipped at his bottom lip, soothing the sting with her tongue. Pierce's hips bucked up against her in response, and she felt the hard length of him pressing insistently against her core.

Rhiannon broke the kiss, gasping for air. She trailed her lips along his jaw, reveling in the rough scrape of stubble against her sensitive skin. When she reached his ear, she took the lobe between her teeth, tugging gently. Pierce's breath hitched, his hands tightening almost painfully on her waist.

She loved it.

A crash from the hallway had them breaking the kiss, both gasping. The door flew open, and a group of men filed inside, their presence commanding the space around them. The last one was dragging an unconscious man behind him.

Pierce tensed beneath her, his arms tightening protectively around her as he glared at the intruders.

The man at the front of the group stepped forward, his piercing blue eyes scanning the room before settling on Pierce. "St. James," he said, his voice clipped and authoritative. "We need to move. Now."

She scrambled off his lap, her cheeks burning with embarrassment and frustration. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"This doesn't concern you."

Raszta growled.

Pierce threw his legs over the side of the bed and motioned for his dog to stay. He pulled out his IV, silencing the alarm. "Like hell it doesn't. She's with me. "

Rhiannon translated, and the two lead men looked at each other, seemingly communicating without saying anything at all.

"Who are you?" Pierce demanded and motioned to the unconscious man. "And who the hell is that?"

When she translated, the men again exchanged a glance, and then the man with the piercing blue eyes stepped forward, his expression grim. "I'm Ethan Voss. We're here to extract you. That man"—he nodded toward the unconscious figure—"is an assassin sent to eliminate you. We intercepted him in the hallway."

Pierce's eyes narrowed as he signed rapidly.

Rhiannon translated, "Who sent you?"

Ethan's gaze flickered between them. "That's classified."

"Halston?" Pierce asked.

Something like disgust flickered over Ethan's face, there and gone so fast Rhiannon almost wondered if she'd imagined it. "You think we're with Halston? I assure you, we're not. We're here to take you to a safe house, away from them." He motioned to one of his men, who dropped a duffle bag with a heavy thump on the end of the bed. "Get dressed. We need to move. Now."

Rhiannon glanced between them, her mind racing. Could this be true? They weren't here to hurt them?

She didn't trust it. Not yet.

"You expect us to just take your word for it?"

"We don't have the fucking time for this," Ethan said, his patience suddenly snapping. He motioned his men forward. "Bring them both. Knock them out if you have to."

"No," Pierce signed. "We'll go."

"Smart choice. Let's move." Ethan spun toward the door. "And leave the dog."