Friday, July 23. 10:39 a.m. Lower Hutt, greater Wellington area, New Zealand.

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Ana had helped defend men accused of heinous crimes and represented clients with the dead-eyed stare of hardened sociopaths. Once she’d even been chased along the sidewalk by an enraged relative.

But waiting alone under her desk tested Ana’s ability to remain calm more than all the years of courtroom dramas. Every clunk and crash, every murmur of Daniel’s voice, every siren scream, sent mini shocks to her heart.

Since Daniel had left she’d tried Theo’s cell phone, her home phone, and Nadia’s cell a dozen times. It was a futile exercise with no signal, but the focus of punching their numbers over and over served as a momentary distraction.

Dammit, she couldn’t stay under there one second longer, glass or no glass. Ana crawled out from under the desk and struggled to her feet. Stepping past a broken ‘No. 1 Mum’ mug, a Mother’s Day gift from Theo, her stomach clenched hard, almost twisting around her spine.

Oh, Theo.

Wobbly legs propelled her across scattered papers and ballpoint pens. If she paused to think any more about her kids, she might just go nuts.

When Daniel called for help, Ana’s heart ricocheted against her ribs. Irene had a tough spirit and a can-do attitude, but they’d celebrated her sixtieth birthday last week. That their receptionist wasn’t currently bellowing orders like a drill sergeant sent skitters of unease over her scalp.

Footsteps pounded outside and Daniel strode into the room, the expression on his face unreadable.

“Is Irene hurt? What’s—”

Two long steps later, he scooped her up against his chest. Ana’s mouth snapped shut. Thirty-five years old and a man had never swept her off her feet. How lame was it that when one finally did, she had her poor choice in footwear to thank?

Daniel’s sensible boots crushed the glass and plaster littered on the office floor as he carried her into the hallway, moving as though she weighed nothing. The warmth of his body and the faint scent of his cologne tripped her stomach into a tumble.

“Don’t worry, I won’t drop you,” he said as her fingernails dug into his shoulder. “I’m used to hauling bags of fertilizer on the farm.”

Fertilizer? Her ego squawked. “Thanks for the reassurance, Farm Boy.”

“You’re welcome, Counselor.”

The nickname startled a hum of amusement from her. “You’ve been watching too much TV. We don’t call lawyers counselor here.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Well, counselor suits you.”

Daniel set Ana on her feet in the reception area, the only place so far free of broken glass. She appreciated his banter as an attempt to distract her from Irene and her kids. While effective in the short term, her shoulders still tensed again at the toppled coffee table and chalky dust covering every surface.

“I’m no medic but I think Irene could be having a heart attack.” He moved behind the desk and Ana followed him. “You stay with her while I get help from outside.”

Irene was sprawled half underneath the desk. She’d obviously tried to get herself to safety. Tried, but failed. Palm pressed so hard against her mouth her teeth dug into her lips, Ana staggered and dropped to her knees. She cradled Irene’s limp hand, forcing the scratchy obstruction from her throat. “I’m here, Irene. I’m right here.”

Irene’s breaths continued to rasp without a noticeable response, and Ana looked up. “What about Joel? How’s his arm?”

“It’s broken, but he’ll be fine.”

She pointed her chin toward a desk drawer. “She keeps a flashlight in there. Take it with you, just in case.”

He slid it open and fished out the small metal tube. “I’ll be as quick as I can.”

Daniel’s footsteps faded and the reception door squeaked and sighed as it closed. Her heart wrenched apart wanting to follow him. Half tore to be on her way to her kids; the other, heavier side remained bound in duty and responsibility to her coworkers.

Muffled under the piles of wreckage, Irene’s mantelpiece clock that she kept sentimentally on her desk tick, tick, ticked. How much time had slipped by since the quake? How many minutes had Theo and Alyssa spent terrified? Alone?

No. She couldn’t think like that.

Ana brushed a strand of hair from Irene’s face and lay a palm on her forehead, the same way she checked for a temperature with her kids. Cool skin shifted under her fingertips.

“Can you hear me?” Ana squeezed her hand. “Hang on, Irene. Help’s coming.”

“What’s going on?” Joel yelled.

“We think Irene’s having a heart attack,” she called back. “Daniel’s gone to get help.”

Joel replied with a stream of curses. Ana found a thin cushion from the toppled office chair and cupped Irene’s head with the intention of sliding it underneath.

“Ron?” Irene’s voice escaped from deep inside her, cracked but eerily beautiful.

Goose bumps rose in a rash along Ana’s arms. Ron was Irene’s husband, a marathon runner who’d died of cancer last year.

Ana rocked back on her heels. Irene’s unfocused gaze stared into the distance, far beyond the underbelly of her desk. Lips trembling around a lopsided smile, Irene sighed, the sound of a schoolgirl swooning over her first crush.

She didn’t inhale.

Daniel opened the stairwell’s heavy fire door, flicked the flashlight on, and aimed it through the murky gloom.

An instinctive and cautious action that saved his life.

A short time ago he’d trudged up the same stairwell, and if he was honest, his focus hadn’t been on his surroundings as much as it should’ve been. Now most of those stairs had vanished. Only particles of concrete dust danced through the trapped beam of light.

He jerked away from the missing landing. The metal handle slipped from his grip and the door slammed shut. Heart plunging into his gut with it, he hooked the door open again, this time bracing it with his foot. Holding the doorjamb with his other hand, Daniel aimed the flashlight down.

The thin tube of light refused to penetrate through the gloom to the ground floor, but it was strong enough to see the stair treads below the third floor crumbled close to the supporting wall. No way would he test the remaining steps’ stability by venturing out onto the landing. He shut the door and walked past the entrance to Ana’s law firm to the one other door on that level.

An accountancy firm that had moved location, according to the door sign, owned this other office space. He called out through the broken floor-to-ceiling window, but no one answered. He decided to check anyway, delaying the unpleasant task of telling Ana they couldn’t get Irene down to the street via the stairs. After yanking the tangled remains of venetian blinds aside, Daniel eased through the empty window and into the reception area.

The offices mirrored Ana’s but lay empty. He followed a short corridor to the rear of the building, checking each room. Maybe he’d get lucky and find something useful, like a portable defibrillator. Though, God, he hoped Irene wouldn’t need one. A rope or even a decorator’s extension ladder would be more useful.

No such luck. The place was deserted.

The last room’s door flew open and a cool breeze puffed across Daniel’s face. His jaw sagged and his eyes widened. A huge chunk of the back wall had collapsed and fallen outward, exposing the broken building across the street. He edged closer, stopping well short of the floorboards jutting into space. Filthy water funneled through the four-way intersection below. The water appeared to be knee deep, and it gushed and bubbled through piles of debris.

The tail end of a tsunami, as good a guess as any. Holy hell.

Thank God Ana’s law firm was situated a few miles inland from the harborside. To contemplate the devastation a tsunami would’ve caused at the foreshore was to risk losing his mind. The surrealism of the moment, the cries from floors below, the alarms, the hiss of water, the stench of brine—all threatened to overwhelm.

He would get his head together in a minute. Years of training and his core nature would see to it. But for now, with no one to see, Daniel closed his eyes and just breathed.

Hey, daylight’s wasting. Think you’re at a church picnic? Harden up, mate.

Not the barked orders of a fellow soldier, but the gruff, wry tone of his father’s voice.

It figured. Nothing could mobilize him like one word from Andrew Calder, not even a dressing down by one of Daniel’s captains during his first year in the army. While the incident with the captain taught him not to repeat his mistakes, the tangled strands of love and respect anchoring him to his father motivated him more than simple obedience to a commanding officer.

All right, old man. Daniel opened his eyes. I’m moving.

He lowered himself to the floor and belly-crawled to where the floorboards vanished. Inching forward, he tested each splintered board with his weight and craned his neck over the edge. The back wall of the floor below remained intact, though deep zigzagging cracks compromised its stability. A building inspector would likely condemn the whole structure, though that wasn’t his problem.

His problem was to figure out a way down.

Directly across from him, the back wall of Ana’s offices was also missing. Three stories up? Far too high to jump. Part of his army and parkour training involved scaling the outside of buildings, but it had been a while since he’d pitted himself against an urban environment.

Like riding a bike.

Half a dozen bricks from the wall below plummeted into the churning foam.

Then again, maybe not.

Even if he could find a way down, they weren’t going anywhere yet. To wade into the water, to pit pitiful human strength against tsunami waves which could surge ashore for hours?

Suicidal.