Aftershock (20 page)

His first strike with the hammer and stake broke off several
sizable chunks. They crumbled inward and fell to the ground. Success!

Owen chipped away as much concrete as possible before using the
torch again. His arms started aching almost immediately, but that didn’t
surprise him. Lifting weights in the exercise yard and doing manual labor hadn’t
given him superhuman strength. He wasn’t built like Garrett, bulging with
muscle.

Within an hour, he’d made enough room for his skinny ass to
squeeze through. He cut through the rebar easily. It melted like butter. A hot
drip rolled into the cuff of his sweatshirt, burning a path down to his
elbow.

“Fuck,” he muttered, shaking it out of his sleeve. That was
going to leave a mark.

Ignoring the pain, he gritted his teeth and continued cutting,
gripping the rebar with his free hand. When the thick crosshatch of metal
finally came loose, he let it drop to the side. It hit the ground with a muted
clatter.

His final task was to smooth the jagged edges. He melted down
the remaining bits of rebar so they wouldn’t impale him on the way out. If Jeb
was going to shoot him, now would be a good time. He’d already done all the
work.

For whatever reason, no bullets struck him as he descended the
rope ladder. Lauren threw her arms around him the instant his feet touched the
ground. “You did it!” she said, hugging him as if they’d won the damned
lottery.

It felt good. Soft and female and not quite motherly. He was
torn between liking her breasts and getting choked up. Then she made it even
more confusing by kissing him smack on the mouth.

He laughed, wiping his stinging eyes. “Garrett’s going to kick
my ass.”

“I don’t think so,” she said, laying her palm against his
cheek. “Go say goodbye to Penny.”

Oh, man. If he couldn’t hide his emotions from Lauren, how was
he going to manage with Penny? He’d survived the past few years by burying his
feelings. In prison, sensitivity was crushed and tenderness preyed upon.

It was cowardice, he realized. Emotions caused pain.

Although avoiding a sentimental scene would be easier, he
squared his shoulders and strode to the RV. Penny opened the door before he got
there. She must have been watching him from the front seat of the motor
home.

Her eyes were wet.

“Why are you crying?” he asked, stepping inside.

“I’m not,” she said, but her lips trembled with dismay.
Clapping a hand over her eyes, she turned her back on him.

He reached out to touch her shoulder. After a short hesitation,
she whirled around, pressing her face to his chest.

“What’s wrong?”

“I was worried about you.”

“I’m fine,” he said, astounded.

“I know. It’s just...post-baby hormones. And...I don’t want you
to go.”

He put his arms around her, unsure how to react. Two women had
hugged him in the space of two minutes. It was sensory overload. When Cruz
started crying, Penny slipped out of his embrace. Her instinctive choice to put
the baby first felt reassuring. Too often, Owen had been surrounded by people
who did the wrong thing.

Cradling the baby in her arms, she returned to Owen’s side.

“I have to go,” he said, although it broke his heart to leave.
His attachment wasn’t just to Penny, either. It extended to Cruz. Owen was proud
to have helped bring an innocent child into the world. On his short list of
positive accomplishments, it ranked number one. So he leaned down to kiss the
baby’s forehead gently. When he tried to do the same to Penny, she lifted her
lips to his.

He inhaled an unsteady breath and went with it, touching his
mouth directly to hers. This kiss was more intimate than the one he’d received
from Lauren. It went beyond friendship, beyond affection.

When he broke the contact, his mouth tingled with sensation. He
wished he could tell her how he felt about her. Instead, he left before he lost
control of his emotions. He was brave enough to kiss her goodbye, but not to
fall apart in front of her.

CHAPTER TWENTY

L
AUREN
HELD
THE
ROPE
LADDER
for Owen as he made his final climb.

When he reached the top, he attached his harness to the lead
rope, which he would use to climb down the outside of the structure. With a
jaunty salute to Garrett, he slipped through the crevice.

She watched until the tension in the lead rope eased, her eyes
swimming with tears. Who would have thought she’d feel admiration for a tattooed
criminal? She didn’t understand Owen’s background or his racist beliefs, but she
liked him. He’d cared for Penny and been sweet to Cadence. Underneath it all, he
was a good person. After this nightmare was over, she hoped he got himself
straightened out.

Although Jeb hadn’t attempted to thwart Owen’s escape, Garrett
stood watch for a long time, seeming suspicious of the quiet. When he rejoined
her near the rope ladder, she gave him a celebratory hug.

They were going to be rescued! Soon—maybe even today.

Freedom would be bittersweet, of course. They’d go back to
their former lives. She couldn’t ride into the sunset with Garrett.

“What should we do about the ladder?” she asked, releasing
him.

“We’ll have to leave it up. Just in case.”

Lauren nodded her agreement. If something happened to Owen,
this was their only hope. “Do you think Jeb will try to climb it?”

“It would be damned near impossible, with a busted knee and no
help.”

The news relaxed her a little. She’d held the ladder steady for
Owen, and the climb hadn’t appeared easy. “Sam woke up again.”

“How is he?”

“Confused. He keeps asking for his girlfriend, Melissa.”

Garrett had read the inscription on the urn, so he recognized
the name. “He doesn’t remember what happened?”

“Apparently not.”

“Wow.”

Sam’s devotion to his girlfriend touched Lauren deeply. He
couldn’t let go of her, not even after death.

She longed to pull Garrett close, and make the most of their
last moments together. When this was over, would he miss her? She wondered how
long he’d stayed with her after she fell asleep last night. Had he savored her
company, or been racked by guilt? Maybe he’d counted the minutes until he could
break away.

When his eyes swept over the cavern, checking once again for
Jeb, she studied his face. Dark stubble extended beyond the line of his jaw,
drawing her attention to the pulse point at the base of his throat. If she’d
thought him handsome while covered in grime, he was irresistible clean. She’d
like to press her lips to his neck, lick the salt from his skin and kiss a trail
down his tautly muscled body.

His gaze darkened as it reconnected with hers, as if he knew
she was fantasizing about unbuttoning his coveralls.

Mickey interrupted her reverie with a string of hoarse curses.
“I can’t breathe,” he yelled. “This fucking chain is choking me!”

Lauren glanced into the shadows. She couldn’t see his face, but
anyone who could shout that loud was getting enough oxygen.

“Don’t listen to him,” Garrett said, putting his arm around
her.

Mickey tried a different tack, and a softer tone: “I won’t
cause any more trouble. Please. Let me go.”

She rested her head against Garrett’s chest, frowning. Mickey
was like a rabid bulldog—mean and unpredictable. There was no way they could
free him to wreak havoc on innocent citizens, or team up with Jeb.

Banging his chains in frustration, Mickey scrambled up on the
trunk of the car. “You think you’re better than us, just because you went to
Iraq? That doesn’t mean shit in the pen. Nobody’s going to give you a Bronze
Star there, you fucking traitor.”

Garrett’s shoulders tensed at the words.

“Wait until we get back, hero. We’ll take care of you real
good.”

It took Lauren a few seconds to puzzle out his meaning. Jeb had
called Garrett “hero” several times, but she hadn’t considered the implications
until now. Mickey was aware of Garrett’s military status. They knew each
other.

They
knew
each other.

From prison.

Her entire world shuddered to a grinding halt. She recoiled in
horror. The realization was more devastating than an aftershock. “You’re a
convict.”

He avoided her gaze, unable to deny it.

“Oh my God,” she said, floored.

All of the signs were there, but she’d failed to see them.
Jeb’s cryptic warning: “We take care of our own.” Their similar work clothes.
Garrett’s story about the bar fight... No wonder he hadn’t been home.

“She didn’t know,” Mickey crowed, his voice high with delight.
“What a dumb bitch. She didn’t know.”

Garrett’s neck flushed with anger. Instead of speaking, he
clamped a hand over his jaw, his blunt-tipped fingers digging into his cheek.
She imagined that he wanted to storm over there and shut Mickey up, perhaps by
tightening the chain around his neck.

It pained her to look at him.

“You lied to me,” she said, trembling with outrage. “You told
me you were involved with someone.”

“I never said that.”

“It’s what you led me to believe.”

He seemed reluctant to argue in front of Mickey, who was still
hooting with glee. Gripping her upper arm, he directed her to a more private
corner, between the semi and the RV. “I didn’t lie to you. Ever.”

She jerked out of his grasp. “You’re so full of shit! I’ve been
dying inside, thinking of you with another woman.”

“There’s no other woman. Obviously.”

“Are you married?”

“No!”

Her heart flooded with adrenaline, beating fast from stress.
She might have a myocardial infarction at any moment. “How can I believe
anything you say?”

“I’ve been honest with you, Lauren. As much as I could be.”

“You didn’t tell me you were an escaped prisoner,” she pointed
out. “It’s an important goddamned detail!”

“Would you have let me be your bodyguard if you’d known?”

Instead of answering, she thought back to their first meeting.
“How—how did you even get separated from the others?”

“Our transport van rolled over several times during the
earthquake,” he said. “The guard right next to me was unconscious, so I grabbed
his keys. We were handcuffed together in pairs. As soon as I got free, I took
off.”

“Who were you cuffed to?”

“Jeb,” he admitted.

“Did you know each other?”

“Not really. It’s a big prison with thousands of inmates. For
the work program, they choose men from different cellblocks, but of the same
race. They don’t want us to fight or to make escape plans.”

“Are you in a gang, like Owen?”

“No,” he said, scowling.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t need to be. Nobody messes with guys my size.
If they did, a group of ex-Marines would have my back.”

“I can’t believe you kept this from me.”

“What was I supposed to say? You wouldn’t have trusted a felon
to protect you.”

“I wouldn’t have run away, screaming! I’m not stupid, Garrett.
You could have told me the second day, or the third. We shared a lot of personal
information. You had countless opportunities to come clean.”

He raked a hand through his hair, struggling to explain
himself. “I didn’t want to disappoint you, okay? I enjoyed the way you...admired
me. You treated me like I was one of the good guys. Like I was worth
something.”

“Being honest with me wouldn’t have changed that.”

“Right,” he scoffed.

“At the very least, you should have told me before we slept
together,” she said, lowering her voice to a furious whisper.

“You didn’t want to hear it.”

“Of course I did!”

“I told you that I killed a man and you still couldn’t connect
the dots. Do you think veterans don’t get jail time?”

Her mind whirred with confusion, stuttering out. “I
assumed...it was an accident. An unfortunate mistake.”

“It was manslaughter,” he said. “I got ten years.”

She touched her fingertips to her temples. “Oh my God.”

“Come on, Lauren. Let’s
both
be
honest. You’re well educated and privileged. Your last boyfriend was a
doctor.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that you wanted to fuck a war hero, not a
convict.”

She drew back her arm and slapped him across the face. A muscle
in his jaw flexed as his cheek turned white, then angry red.

Lauren was appalled by her loss of control. She’d never struck
anyone in her life, besides him. It felt awful to be brought so low. Pressing
her lips together to keep them from trembling, she clenched her stinging palm
into a fist.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “That was out of line.”

So was her slap, but she couldn’t form an apology.

“If I’d confessed last night, you wouldn’t have let me touch
you. You’re a sexy, beautiful woman. I couldn’t...deny myself.”

“How long has it been?”

“Five years.”

God. No wonder he’d been fast. “Is that all it was about,
then?”

“You know it wasn’t.”

He was too polite to remind her that she’d made the sexual
advances, culminating in that oh-so-classy display on her knees. When she
flushed at the memory, the corner of his mouth tipped up.

Enjoyed that, had he? She didn’t flatter herself. A man who’d
abstained for so long would get excited over anything.

“I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you,” he said, wrapping
his hand around her fist. Although she didn’t unclench it, neither did she pull
away. “I’m sorry I did that. But everything I told you was true. I never meant
to hurt you, Lauren. I might have been able to resist...if I hadn’t fallen in
love with you.”

Lauren felt like the breath had been stolen from her lungs. She
searched his eyes and saw no hint of deception. But she couldn’t accept his
words at face value. He’d broken her trust. She’d been tortured by the idea that
he had a girlfriend.

Nothing he could say would make it okay.

“I need to be alone,” she said, turning her back to him. Shaken
by the heartfelt declaration, and still stinging from his betrayal, she reacted
in her typical style—by running away from her emotions.

* * *

G
ARRETT
DIDN
’
T
KNOW
who he wanted to kill more: Mickey or himself.

After Lauren left him, he climbed into the semi and turned on
the radio, feeling surly. She’d never forgive him. By telling her he loved her,
he’d only made things worse. The fact that it was true didn’t matter.

He’d tried to protect her and fucked up. The story of his life,
right?

The latest radio report wasn’t encouraging. National Guard
stations had been inundated with SOS calls. They were working their way toward
the epicenter, but progress was slow due to the enormity of the disaster.
Residents on the outskirts of the city would be rescued first. Those within the
downtown area were advised to escape by any means possible. Disaster crews were
dealing with massive fires, explosions and chemical spills. Hundreds of victims
were trapped inside buildings and thousands were unaccounted for.

Garrett wondered how Owen would cope with the horrors he
encountered. It probably looked like a war zone outside.

It felt like one inside. He was furious with Mickey, and full
of regret. The same dark feelings that had plagued him after he returned from
Iraq festered within him now. Violence wasn’t the answer; five years in prison
had taught him that. But the temptation to lash out at someone was still
strong.

He wanted to put his fist through a wall. Why had he told
Lauren he loved her? It didn’t change anything. There was no hope for them. He
was a murdering scumbag; she saved lives. Even if he was free, she wouldn’t want
him.

Mickey continued to yell taunts, rattling his chains and
banging on the hood of the car. Motherfucker. Garrett wished he could knock him
out again. Then it occurred to him that the noise might be designed to cover an
approach by Jeb.

Cursing, he got out of the semi. Hooking the hammer in his
belt, he picked up a flashlight, preparing to do another sweep of the cavern.
Jeb hadn’t made a peep since yesterday. Garrett figured he was holed up in his
truck, doped to the gills on the drugs Lauren had given him. He’d checked every
car before Owen went up the ladder, just in case.

They didn’t need any more surprises.

Ignoring Mickey’s hollering, he weaved his way through the
shadows, investigating the space. Despite the cleansing rain, the cadaver smell
had worsened. Garrett held his breath as he surveyed the rubble in the southwest
corner. He saw no evidence that Jeb had slithered past while Garrett was making
a fool of himself.

Jeb probably couldn’t walk, let alone climb a ladder, so the
chances of him turning up again were slim. Satisfied that he wasn’t lurking on
this side of the cavern, Garrett turned off his flashlight and headed back.

Mickey sank to his knees on the asphalt as Garrett approached.
“Please let me out. I’m begging you.”

Garrett didn’t bother to answer.

“Come on, man. Let’s both go. By the time the rescue crew shows
up, we could be on the beach in Mexico.”

He pictured Mickey wearing a straw hat and a pair of flowered
swim trucks. “I’d rather die in prison.”

“Are you short time?”

“No.”

Mickey rose from his supplicant position. “Then why are you
being such a pussy about escaping? This is the chance of a lifetime. It’ll take
months to sort through the bodies. They’ll never know we ran.”

“They’ll know.”

“Goddamn it,” he growled, tugging on the padlock at his neck.
Mickey was an ugly man on a good day. With a ravaged nose, swollen eye and
blood-caked teeth, he looked hideous. “You’re going to take a beating when the
other guys find out that you played prison guard. Nobody likes a traitor.”