Daniel strode around Ana’s desk, swiftly noting the conditions—evaluating, strategizing. Once, being on constant alert, never fully relaxed, had been second nature. But habits, even ones ingrained by a decade in the armed forces, disappeared without discipline and conscientiousness.

He’d been a civilian for too long.

Glass glittered on the beige carpet. On the way in, he’d paid scant attention to the huge glass-faced offices set on either side of the short corridor. Now most of the panes lay in impressive shards, and each time he moved they crunched underfoot. He made a mental note to search for something to move the worst pieces so Ana could walk safely.

An image of her slid into his mind. Ana curled next to him as the floor pitched and heaved. A brief awareness simmered between them under the desk. He’d seen Ana not as his sister’s employer and not as a woman trapped with him in a desperate situation. He’d just seen her.

Daniel flicked the thought away and stepped into the hallway littered with more glass and chunks of plaster. Dust tempests whirled in the dim light, and the muffled voices of survivors from the two lower floors drifted up from under his feet. He opened the door directly opposite Ana’s office where he thought he’d heard the secretary’s voice coming from. The office floor was white with a jumble of papers, the black office chair tipped on its side in front of her desk, the wheels still spinning. Books had fallen off shelves, her desktop screen had fallen flat on its face, and on the floor by the desk lay an upside-down keyboard. His gaze tracked down into the shadows under the desk where Maggie was huddled, one arm wrapped around her bent knees, the other hand at her mouth as she gnawed on a fingernail. She stared up at him with wide, vacant eyes.

“Maggie? Are you okay?” he said.

The woman’s gaze skidded to a spot above his shoulder. She waved in a half-hearted manner and then frowned, as if she’d forgotten the correct protocol for greeting a stranger after a natural disaster.

“All good,” she said, but her voice quavered on the last word.

“Uh, I think it’s safer if you stay here for a bit while I check things out,” he said.

She nodded and continued to chew off her fingernails. Daniel backed away. At least she wasn’t bouncing off the walls in hysterics. The next office along from Maggie’s was empty, as was the one next to Ana’s. In the office closest to the reception, he eased his head through the empty window, keeping well away from the remaining glass trapped in the frame. A man lay on his stomach with the wooden back of a large bookcase covering the left side of his body from his upper arm down. The flushed-pink dome of his bald head poked out from beneath one end of the case and stubby legs kicked ineffectually at the other.

Daniel squeezed through the partially blocked door. “Joel, I’m guessing? I’m Daniel.” He edged around the man’s feet. “Mate, you’re pinned like an entomologist’s wet dream.”

Joel huffed and tried to roll an eye backward to see him. “Who’re you calling a bug?”

Daniel picked a hard-covered book off the stack spilling over Joel’s legs and tossed it aside before scanning the rest of the office to see if anything else would fall on them during an aftershock. He checked his watch and estimated less than ten minutes had passed since the initial quake. Filtering through his knowledge of earthquakes and how soon they could expect aftershocks, he drew a blank.

“What’s that sound?” Joel’s ear was pressed to the carpet.

“What can you hear?” Wary of expected aftershocks, Daniel chucked books faster. If necessary he’d drag Joel to safety, but the sudden movement would hurt like hell and possibly cause more damage.

“I’m not sure. It’s weird. Maybe it’s just buildings settling.”

Daniel removed the last pile of books. As long as it wasn’t an aftershock, he couldn’t care less about stuff outside right at this moment. Crouching beside Joel’s legs, he got a firm grip on the case. “It’s gonna hurt like a son of a bitch, but you need to roll on your back or shuffle over to the right when I lift this.”

“Gotcha.”

Joel better move quickly. Who didn’t screw such a monstrous bookcase to the wall in an earthquake-prone city? He shook his head and counted. “One, two—”

The solid wood creaked as he got his shoulder under and heaved. Joel swore a blue streak, his legs scissoring on the carpet as he flipped laboriously onto his back. After checking he’d rolled clear, Daniel lowered the case gently back to the carpet, just in case the floor wasn’t as solid beneath his boots as he hoped.

“Hell’s bells.” Joel rested his forearm on his chest and cradled his wrist, sweat popping on his brow. “Forty-four years old and I’ve never broken a bone before. Didn’t think it would hurt this much.”

The arm below Joel’s rolled-up shirt sleeve had begun to swell. Fortunately, no bone fragments had broken through the skin.

“Joel? Are you all right?” Ana called from next door.

“Just peachy. Your friend’s doing a bang-up job,” Joel yelled back. “For a bleeding sadist.” His voice lowered to a growl, but the corner of his mouth twitched up.

“Harden up.” Daniel spotted a suit jacket on the floor, dragged it over, and tucked the folds around Joel’s torso. Not much, but it’d do. “Where’s the first aid kit?”

“Staff room. Last door on the right, top cupboard.”

Daniel stood and glanced through shattered glass to the hallway. “I’ll grab it in a sec then get you under the conference table and fix you up.”

“What about Irene? Can you go make sure she’s really okay? She’s not half as tough as she likes to think, and she’s gone quiet. Trust me, when Irene’s got nothing to say, something’s up.”

“I’ll go check and come back for you.”

“Okay, I’ll live. We lawyers are like cockroaches.”

Daniel offered a contorted smile at the weak joke. How effective would a basic first aid kit be in treating a broken arm? And the odds of getting the man to a fracture clinic any time soon were slight. “You said it, mate, not me.”

Daniel entered the reception area, expecting to find the woman in much the same position as Maggie. “Hey, Ir—” His mouth snapped shut on the last syllable of her name as he stepped behind the giant desk.

Irene was lying with her upper body under the shelter of her desk, but her legs were splayed gracelessly open poking out from it. He dropped to his knees and lifted her hand, finding the skin of her palm smooth but clammy. On her face her bright yellow spectacles were knocked askew, and even in the poor light he could see the older woman’s lips were tinged an unhealthy blue, her complexion the color of concrete.

He blinked.

Another woman, years younger. Eyes wide with pain and shock, mouth pressed tight in a grimace while raindrops left dark blotches on her still—too still—camouflage pants.

Daniel wrestled the picture from his mind and touched her shoulder. “Irene? Can you hear me?”

Irene’s eyes inched opened then flickered shut again. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven movements.

Daniel dug into his jeans’ pocket and pulled out his cell phone. No reception bars, but that was not unexpected. A phone headset poked out among the jumble of stationery on the floor, and he snatched it up, pressing the speaker to his ear. Dead. He swore and tossed it aside.

Irene needed urgent medical treatment and she wouldn’t get it here. Someone had to care for her while he went for help. Ana was the logical choice since Maggie seemed out of it. God only knew if Ana would cope or fragment into pieces like before.

“Ana,” he bellowed. “Irene needs you. Be ready.”