Chapter 8

chapter

eight

What was taking so long?

Rhiannon tried to keep herself busy, checking in with everyone and making sure they were as comfortable as possible under the circumstances. Still, her gaze kept drifting to the corner where Pierce spoke with Gareth. The two of them had been in an intense conversation for what felt like hours, and she desperately wanted to eavesdrop. She told herself it was wrong. She told herself she'd respect their privacy, even if it gnawed at her patience.

Wasn't her fault that the Japanese family was sitting apart from the rest of the group, close enough to Pierce and Gareth that she was able to read Gareth's lips when she checked on them.

"I don't know why you ran, Pierce. I don't know anything about Project Iron Horizon beyond its name, and I don't want to know. But I'll tell you this—when Halston thinks they own you, they don't let go."

Gareth's gaze met hers as he spoke, and Pierce turned to look at her.

Crap. She didn't want him to think she was spying. Okay, so maybe she had been—a little—but she didn't want him to know it. His hard hazel eyes locked onto hers, and her breath hitched. Then he snapped his fingers at Gareth and scribbled something on the pad. Gareth's face was almost as unreliable as Pierce's as he read the note.

She signed " Sorry " and quickly looked away, focusing all of her attention back on the Japanese family, who were nervously huddled together. Despite the two years she'd lived in Japan, she only had a rudimentary grasp of the spoken language since she'd lived in the deaf community there. She was more fluent in JSL—Japanese Sign Language—but nobody in the family knew it. Still, she managed to convey they were safe and that help was on the way.

She just hoped she wasn't lying to them.

When she left them, she peeked in Pierce's direction again. The two men were still deep in conversation, and Pierce looked angry.

Halston.

She knew who they were, of course. A private military that had been all over the news a few years ago due to some controversial operations overseas. The details were murky, but it hadn't been good for their reputation.

"When Halston thinks they own you…"

Had Pierce worked for them?

And what was Project Iron Horizon? It sounded more like a crazy internet conspiracy theory than a legitimate operation. But if Gareth knew about it, and Pierce was involved... it had to be real, right?

She shook her head. It wasn't important, had no bearing on their current situation. She needed to stop overthinking it and focus on keeping everyone safe. Just because Pierce might have worked on some secret military project, it didn't mean he was suddenly a danger to them.

She trusted him.

Right?

Yes.

She had to.

Eventually, she ran out of ways to distract herself and made her way back to where Dottie and Brooke sat with Michael.

"How is he?" she asked, crouching beside the boy.

"As good as can be expected," Brooke said, her gaze on Michael soft with affection. She gently brushed a wayward lock of hair from his forehead. "He's been asking for you." She made a series of hesitant signs with one hand, spelling out R-H-I-A. "That's you, isn't it?"

A pang of guilt shot through her. She'd been so caught up with worrying about Pierce and everyone else that she hadn't checked on Michael. "Yes, that's how you sign my name. Or you can do this." She signed an R and made a wave motion beside her head. "That's my ASL name sign."

"What's a name sign?" Dottie asked.

"They're given by someone in the deaf community as a kind of nickname, so we don't always have to spell out a person's full name. The sign usually has something to do with the person's personality or something unique about them. Mine is the letter R." She formed the letter with her hand. "And the sign for wavy hair." Keeping her fingers in the shape of R, she mimed waves beside her head. "Because I've always had a lot of wild, wavy hair, even as a kid."

Brooke smiled and copied the sign. "Like this?"

Her attempt was awkward but earnest, and Rhiannon nodded. "Just like that."

Turning her attention back to Michael, she signed, "Hi, Michael."

The boy's eyes brightened at the sight of her. "Missed you."

Her heart clenched. "I missed you, too, buddy. How are you feeling?"

"Sleepy. Hungry."

"We have to wait for a bit before we can eat, so why don't you rest some more now? I'll wake you when it's time for dinner."

"Okay. Where's Pierce?" he asked and scanned the store hopefully.

"Oh, he's talking to someone right now. He'll be back soon, okay?"

Michael nodded and settled back down, snuggling in next to her, seeming satisfied with her answer.

"He's a brave little boy," Dottie said after a few moments of silence. "Poor thing must be terrified, but he hasn't cried once. Not since you brought him inside."

"Yeah, he's a tough kid," Rhiannon agreed.

"Do you think his parents are looking for him?" Brooke asked.

Dottie's expression grew somber. "God, I hope so. For his sake."

"I'm sure they are." Rhiannon swallowed the lump in her throat and stood. She couldn't just sit here. She had to move, had to do… something.

Michael protested, and she signed to him, "I'll be right back." Then, to Dottie, she said, "Are there any specialty sweets in the store? Something more than the brand name candy. Maybe something special like that will take his mind off things for a bit."

"Oh, good idea! We have a lot of fudge. The world's best."

"I was thinking something more colorful, like lollipops?"

"Yes, we had some of the big twisty ones in a box behind the register. We just got them in, and I hadn't put them on display yet." Dottie started to stand, but Rhiannon held up a hand, stopping her.

"No, it's okay. I'll get them." As she moved toward the registers, she noticed how quiet it had become. The murmurs of conversation had faded, replaced by the soft static of the radio.

So far, they'd heard no further broadcasts, and the white noise was starting to grate on her nerves. She turned it down a bit as she passed and all but heard the group collectively exhale. They were tense, their fear a tangible, living thing in the cramped space, and the static hadn't been helping.

Okay. They needed her to stay positive, to keep the hope alive, and she figured a lollipop—even a broken one—would do just that.

She found the lollipops—twisty ones in rainbow colors—scattered on the floor behind the U-shaped register desk. Some were broken beyond recognition, but she collected the whole ones in the hem of her shirt. As she straightened, her gaze fell on the dusty glass showcase housing an assortment of liquor bottles.

One was missing.

She searched the floor, expecting to see it shattered among the lollipops, another victim of the earthquake. But, no, that didn't make sense. The door to the case was shut, and none of the other bottles inside had shattered. She tested the door. It was latched firmly, but it wasn't locked.

"Huh."

She returned to Michael and offered him one of the lollipops. His grin was tentative, but it was a start. She passed the rest of the lollipops to Brooke. "Would you mind passing the rest of these out to whoever wants one?"

"What's wrong?" Dottie asked when Brooke was out of earshot.

"The liquor cabinet behind the registers? Did you keep it locked?"

Dottie's brows furrowed in confusion. "Well, yeah. It's store policy, but… honestly, we get sloppy with it sometimes and leave it unlocked. Why?"

"One of the bottles is missing."

The color drained from Dottie's face, and she pressed a hand over her heart. "God. Everyone is already stressed. If we mix alcohol into this situation…"

"I know. It could get bad." Rhiannon sighed, rubbing at the tension headache at her temples. "Is it possible one of your staff could've taken it?"

Dottie looked toward her two workers, who had joined Brooke in passing out the candy. "I suppose it's possible but unlikely," she answered after a moment. "Will and Hailey are both decent kids. Will's working here to save money for a foreign exchange program with his college. He's going to Austria for the spring semester. And Hailey is only sixteen. She's quiet but a good worker, a sweet girl. She's hoping to get a volleyball scholarship. I don't think either of them would steal liquor. They aren't the types."

Yeah, Rhiannon hadn't thought so, but she needed to ask. And the families were too frightened, the older couple too frail—the husband, Ray, was almost eighty and hadn't stopped coughing since the landslide. Brooke had been with Michael for most of the time. Gareth was injured. And she knew from her brother that Pierce was sober. She doubted he'd risk his sobriety for a bottle of liquor, even under the current circumstances.

That left only one other person…

"Dean," Dottie said at the same time the name popped into her head.

Of course.

She searched for him and found him sulking in the corner behind the camping supplies, his eyes glassy and unfocused. He'd been trouble since the beginning – belligerent, on edge, hostile—and she doubted alcohol would improve his disposition.

"I'll handle it," Rhiannon said with a sigh and started in his direction, but Dottie caught her arm.

"Maybe you should wait for Pierce."

She smiled and patted the older woman's hand reassuringly. "Pierce is busy. I'll be okay."

Dottie looked as though she was about to argue, but she swallowed her protest, letting Rhiannon's hand slip from hers. "Just be careful, hon."

With a quick breath, Rhiannon turned and made her way toward Dean. On her way, she stopped to take a lollipop from Brooke. Her tennis shoes crunched over the debris strewn across the floor as she navigated through the maze of upturned clothing racks and broken souvenirs. The air over here was stale and thick with dust.

He was sitting on a stack of camping mattresses, slumped against the wall, his long legs sprawled out in front of him. As she approached, he glanced up from the half-empty bottle of rum cradled in his hands.

She held out the lollipop in a peace offering.

He didn't move to take it. Resentment blazed in his eyes.

"Come on, Dean. It's not poison."

"I'm not in the mood for fucking candy." His words came out slurred; he was already drunk.

"All right." So much for the gentle approach. She held out her free hand. "Give me the bottle."

His lips curled into a smirk. "Why should I? I found it."

"You stole it."

He swept the bottle in a wide arc. "We're all stealing."

Rhiannon knew his hostility wasn't entirely his fault. The withdrawal symptoms were taking their toll, making him even more irritable than usual, and he probably thought the alcohol would take the edge off. But her patience was running thin. They all had their demons to deal with. Dean wasn't the only one suffering.

"You're going to dehydrate yourself." She placed the lollipop on a shelf next to him, then went to grab a bottle of water. She returned and set it next to the candy. "Drink that."

As she turned away to go back to the group, he grumbled, "Why do you care?"

She paused and glanced back at him. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"Why are you handing out candy, playing nanny to the deaf kid, pretending to give a damn about any of us? What's your endgame?"

"I don't have an endgame."

"Everyone has an endgame, sweetheart. You're no exception."

Wow. He sounded… like Pierce.

She turned back to face Dean fully, planting her hands on her hips. "Fine, you want to know my endgame? It's simple: to keep us alive and get us out of here. I'm not asking for you to trust me, but working against me won't help anyone."

Dean just looked at her, his stare filled with hostility. But beneath the hostility, she saw something else. Fear? Frustration? Loneliness? She wasn't sure.

He sneered and gestured vaguely at the others. "Why waste time caring about these people? They'll stab you in the back the first chance they get."

Okay, she really didn't like how little faith everyone had in each other. First, Dottie warned her away from Pierce, and now Dean's bitter cynicism painted the group as a den of vipers, ready to strike at the first sign of weakness.

Well, they were both wrong.

She refused to believe that they couldn't depend on each other. They were stronger together, and she was determined to prove it. "I choose to have faith in people. You should try it."

She didn't wait for him to respond. Instead, she walked away from the camping section.

Back at Michael's side, her spirits lifted again when he gave her a shy grin with the lollipop stick jutting from the corner of his mouth. She ruffled his hair affectionately before helping Dottie set up their sleeping arrangements. Then, she busied herself with passing out their first rations for dinner. They were eating the food from the coolers first—premade sandwiches, salads, and wraps—the stuff that wouldn't be edible when their ice melted.

Halfway through passing out dinner, she noticed Pierce return to the group. Of course she noticed him. She was aware of him even when she tried not to be.

He took up a sentinel position near the entrance of the store. His body was tense, his gaze moving ceaselessly as he studied the surroundings. He was staying on guard while everyone else ate, but he seemed more distracted than before, and she could feel his stare on her more often than not. She refused to give in to the temptation of looking his way… but eventually, she couldn't resist any longer and turned her head to catch his eye.

For a moment, they stared at each other in silence, the world around them dissolving into nothingness. Butterflies swarmed in her stomach, their wings fluttering frantically against her ribcage, and she was sure her cheeks were flushed.

Dammit, why did he affect her like this?

It wasn't the time or place to entertain a stupid crush, especially one that would never be reciprocated. Yes, she was drawn to Pierce—maybe more than she'd ever been to anyone before—but he kept everyone at arm's length. He was a puzzle wrapped in a mystery, tucked inside an enigma, and every time she thought she was getting closer to understanding him, another layer of his history revealed itself, pushing her two steps back.

Finally, he broke eye contact and signed, "We need to talk."

His words were like a cold splash of water, halting the fluttering wings in her stomach and bringing her back to reality. She nodded and placed the wrap she'd been about to open back in the cooler as she rose from her seat.

Pierce turned and led the way to the front of the store, past the few aisles that were still miraculously standing. She followed him until they reached a spot near a tipped-over display of chips—secluded enough to afford them some privacy yet still within earshot if something went wrong.

He turned to face her. " Gareth's lying."

"Why do you think that?" she asked, her voice low so as not to draw attention.

"Use signs."

She switched to ASL. "Okay, so what makes you think he's lying?"

"Because his story doesn't add up. He's hiding something."

A shiver of unease crept down her back. "Did he tell you where he came from or how he ended up buried in the hallway?"

"He claims he was using the bathroom back there because the men's room is out of order. We need to check with Dottie about that."

"Easy enough to corroborate. Why do you think he's lying about that?"

"He's not. About that, at least."

"So what else did he say?"

Pierce shook his head, and a faint smile curved his lips. "Nice try. I'm still not telling you the details. Classified, remember?"

"Is he dangerous?" she asked, her signs hesitant .

"I don't know." A faint scowl crossed his face before he hid it. "Probably not to you or anyone else here."

"But to you, he is?"

He didn't respond.

She sighed heavily. "I really wish you'd tell me what this is all about."

He hesitated for a long moment. "It's safer if you don't know."

Safer? How? Frustration sizzled through her, fraying her already threadbare patience. None of them were safe right now, and if Gareth was dangerous—even if it was only to Pierce—she needed to know.

"I disagree." Her hands trembled slightly as she signed, and she hated it. She hated the fear that was slowly creeping into her, the uncertainty that was making her second-guess everything and everyone. She didn't want to be cynical like Pierce and Dean. She didn't want to doubt everyone she met. She wanted to trust and believe in the goodness of people. But she was starting to realize that she didn't have that luxury right now. "We all need to know if there's a potential threat among us."

Pierce studied her for a long moment. "I understand your concerns. But, like I said, he's probably not a threat to you."

"Pierce—"

"Trust me, it's better this way."

She sighed and rubbed at the sudden throb in her temples. This wasn't getting them anywhere, and judging by the hardened set of his jaw, Pierce wasn't going to budge.

She wanted to trust him. She really did…

But how could she when he kept so much hidden from her?