Page 92 of Searching Blind

His hands shook as he reached for the door handle, pushing it open with more force than necessary. He needed fresh air— real fresh air— not the artificial chill that came from the car's air conditioning. He stepped out of the vehicle, bending double like he had just run a marathon.

“Are you okay?”

The woman’s voice reminded him of sultry Southern nights and sweet tea. It was a soothing balm against his frayed nerves. He looked up, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. A petite woman was standing next to the car that had just pulled into the space beside his, her straight dark hair was piled in an artfully messy bun on top of her head with wisps spilling out around her lightly freckled face. She had big eyes that looked as green as a spring meadow from a distance, but the green darkened to a greenish-gold as she approached.

Beautiful.

He scowled at the wayward thought and gave sharp nod, reaching for the Bronco’s door.

“Wait, I think I know you,” she said suddenly. “You’re Pierce St. James, right?”

His spine snapped straight, and he looked at her again. Shit, she did look familiar. Something about her eyes, that mercurial green-gold was not something one easily forgot. His heart started ramping up again, every alarm bell in his body screaming danger.

Was she one of them?

Had they found him again so quickly?

He didn’t have a weapon. His gun was tucked in his duffle bag in the back seat.

He slowly turned toward her, keeping his expression carefully blank. At least face-to-face, if she tried something, he’d have a better chance at defending himself.

“I mean, I don’t know you personally,” she added quickly, obviously flustered. Color splashed over her cheeks. “I know of you from my brother. He talks about y’all all the time and sent me a picture of the team once. I recognize your dog.” She nodded toward Razzy, who was hanging out the driver’s side window now. “Raszta, right?”

At the sound of his name from the newcomer, the dog’s tail wagged happily. Traitor.

“Who are you?” he signed. It was instinctive—he didn’t actually expect an answer. Most people didn’t know sign language.

But her hands instantly came up and started signing as she spoke. “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot Rylan said you use ASL to communicate. I’m Rhiannon, Ry’s sister.”

Pierce vaguely remember Rylan mentioning that his sister was coming for a visit. But what were the chances he’d run into here at this rest stop miles away from Steam Valley?

He didn’t like coincidences.

Trust no one. That was his motto, even if paranoia made him see threats where there were none.

Raszta jumped out of the car, his tail wagging harder as he trotted up to greet Rhiannon. Her laugh was bright and genuine as she crouched and allowed the dog to happily lick her face. Pierce watched the scene, a scowl pulling at his mouth. No apprehension whatsoever in the mutt, no suspicion. Raszta trusted easily, loved everyone he met.

Pierce didn’t have that luxury.

“Aww, look at you! You really do look like a mop and a bear made a puppy,” Rhiannon said, smushing the dog’s face between her hands. She let Raszta give her one more lick before she ruffled his ears and stood. “Ry told me he was a unique dog.”

Pierce found himself relaxing slightly at her words. He loosened his grip on the car door and looked Rhiannon over again. She shrugged out of her denim jacket as the sun began to heat up, revealing a pretty floral sundress that complemented her freckled skin. Her eyes twinkled with laughter as she watched Raszta chase his own tail.

She seemed genuine, and Raszta's reaction to her was positive. There was a warmth in Rhiannon's eyes as she interacted with Raszta that made his chest twinge in an unfamiliar way.

His breaths were coming a little easier now, he realized. The air no longer felt like sandpaper against his throat. Why was that when moments ago he thought he might pass out from lack of oxygen?

Bewildered, he ran his hand over his short hair. Rhiannon had the same air of calm as her brother—the same soothing and steady presence that encouraged you to drop your walls, to unwind, to trust. It was a trait that had annoyed Pierce when he first met Rylan, but with Rhiannon, it seemed different, somehow. More appealing. With her, it felt like a soothing balm to wounds he didn’t even know were still open. This woman, this stranger who was not a stranger, made him want to trust her, and that went against everything that had kept him alive for the past few years.

He couldn’t let down his guard. He had been blindsided before by people who seemed harmless.

He lifted his hands to tell her he needed to go, but the ground beneath him lurched violently, throwing him off balance. The air filled with a cacophony of car alarms and panicked shouts as the world shifted and buckled. A nearby telephone pole snapped like a toothpick, slamming into a parked car with a sickening crunch.

Rhiannon staggered, arms flailing for balance. She barely managed to keep her feet under her as Raszta yelped. Pierce reached out and grabbed hold of her arm, pulling her toward him just as the ground gave another ferocious lurch that sent them both sprawling. He curled around her, cushioning her fall, and his head hit the asphalt hard. Stars danced in his vision. Raszta huddled against them, shaking with each tremor.

Then, just as suddenly as it began, the earthquake stopped.

For a moment, there was just silence– an eerie calm following the earth’s violent tantrum. Pierce's ears rang, his heart thundering as he lay on the asphalt with Rhiannon sprawled on top of him. Her body was warm against his, her quick shallow breaths matching his own. His senses were hyper-aware; the smell of hot asphalt and disturbed earth filled his nostrils, and he could taste dust and blood on his tongue from where he’d bitten down during the quake.

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