Aftershock (9 page)

“I’ll come with you.”

She wanted to tell him to fuck off, but she couldn’t. Tears
pricked her eyes as she laced up her shoes and put on a jacket.

Before they left the semi, he grasped her wrist, forcing her to
look at him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have started anything.”

“You didn’t. I threw myself at you.”

The corner of his mouth tipped up. “I enjoyed that.”

She tried to jerk her wrist out of his grip.

“I mean it, Lauren. That was the most exciting five minutes of
my life.”

“Don’t exaggerate.”

“I’m not. You would have been very disappointed in my
performance if we’d continued. I’d have lasted about two seconds.”

“Shut up,” she said, rolling her eyes.

He let go of her wrist, placid. She didn’t believe his
ridiculous assurances, but she was flattered by the compliments. He was an
enigma. Guarded and aloof one moment, teasing and self-derisive the next.

As she entered the triage space, a chill came over her. She
rushed to Mrs. Engle’s side, searching for a pulse. Her skin was cool to the
touch. She glanced at Garrett, suddenly glad they hadn’t surrendered to
lust.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“She’s dead.”

Mrs. Engle wasn’t the first patient Lauren had found
unresponsive. She’d tried, and failed, to revive dozens of people. Sometimes,
the sick or injured were beyond help. The ambulance arrived too late.

A few years ago, a little girl had died on the way to the
hospital. Lauren had fought so hard to save her. Although she’d learned to
separate her emotions from the job, she wasn’t always successful. That day,
she’d been inconsolable. It ranked among the worst experiences of her life,
along with her father’s passing.

And this.

She covered the body with a sheet, her face crumpling with
sadness. The combination of Garrett’s rejection and Mrs. Engle’s death
overwhelmed her. It was compounded by too little sleep and too much stress. She
turned her back on him and squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could just
disappear.

Stay strong,
she ordered herself.
Don’t break down.

Garrett tried to reach out to her again, but she held up a hand
to ward him off. “Leave me alone.”

“Tell me how you’re feeling.”

“I feel like hitting you!”

“Then do it.”

With a choked sob, she rushed out of the triage tent, her heart
racing.

He followed her. “I want to be here for you.”

This was her breaking point. It was his fault she was crying,
and he didn’t even have the decency to give her privacy. When he touched her
arm, she rounded on him, shoving at his chest. He stumbled back a step,
surprised by her ferocity.

And maybe a little impressed.

Furious with his
bemusement,
and
his eagerness to be her punching bag, she did it again, pushing him harder. He
wrapped her up in his powerful embrace, taking away the distance she needed.

Furious, she started pummeling his chest with her fists. “Damn
you,” she cried, hitting him with all her might.

He endured the abuse, his jaw tight with emotion.

She was exhausted after a few minutes, her anger drifting away
like smoke. It left her feeling limp and raw, too weak to stand up. “Damn you,”
she repeated, putting her head against his chest and dissolving into sobs.

“Shh,” he said, holding her. Just holding her.

She couldn’t bring herself to hate him, which made it worse. If
she could stop caring about him, stop caring about anything, she could stop
crying. But she couldn’t. The disaster hadn’t just forged a bond between them;
it had broken down the wall around her heart. She’d let him inside, and he’d
hurt her. Just like every other man in her life.

She’d never learn.

He continued to hold her and stroke her back, murmuring words
of comfort. She thought of his hazy relationship status and found the strength
to pull away. Removing a tissue from her pocket, she wiped her runny nose.

She felt like a weepy mess. He didn’t take his gaze from her
face.

“People die all the time,” she said.

“That’s true.”

“My first year on the job, I responded to an HBC. Hit by a car.
It was a little girl, walking home from school. Seven years old.” Fresh tears
flooded her eyes. “She died in the back of the ambulance.”

His expression softened. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I wouldn’t let her mother ride with us for insurance reasons.”
She shook her head in regret. “Can you believe it? That poor little girl died
alone, without anyone she loved to hold her hand or say goodbye.”

“I’m sorry.”

She stared into the dark space that surrounded them,
distraught. Over the years, she’d seen a lot of debilitating injuries and
untimely deaths. Kids were the hardest to deal with. Mrs. Engle hadn’t even been
young. But she’d been alone.

Scared, confused and alone.

CHAPTER NINE

G
ARRETT
HELPED
L
AUREN
roll the stretcher to the corner.

They removed the rocks from the tarp and placed Mrs. Engle
among the others. The temperature had dropped over the past couple of days,
slowing the rate of decomposition. Even so, he tried not to inhale through his
nose as he covered up the bodies.

Neither of them said any last words. This wasn’t the final
resting place for Mrs. Engle—he hoped.

He was glad Lauren had opened up to him emotionally. In extreme
situations, a lot of people became detached. Garrett had seen this phenomenon in
Iraq. He’d lived it. Dissociation helped Marines get through day-to-day battle,
but they paid more in the long run. They paid with nightmares and cold
sweats.

She stuck her hands in the pockets of her jacket, watching him
pile more rocks at the edge of the tarp. Although he did a thorough job, he used
chunks of concrete that could be easily moved aside again.

Sam Rutherford wasn’t looking too good.

“We have to find a way out of here today,” she murmured,
kicking at the gritty debris beneath her feet.

Garrett agreed with her. It would be a miracle if their water
lasted through tomorrow. Penny was about to pop. The convicts were growing
restless. They’d had a difficult time so far, but the situation could get a lot
worse.

Dying of thirst was a slow, agonizing process. Their mental
faculties would break down before their organs failed. They’d become walking
zombies—if they didn’t kill each other over the last drink.

He dusted off his hands and straightened. “I’ll climb the wall
again.”

“Why?”

“I need to try to chip through the concrete. Make an escape
route.”

“Do you think you can fit?”

“Not with the rebar in the way.”

“How are you going to get around it?”

“I don’t know.”

He also wasn’t sure he’d be able to climb down the outside of
the structure in the unlikely event that he freed himself. But he kept that
drawback to himself, not wanting to worry her. Since they’d found Mrs. Engle
dead, Lauren seemed vulnerable.

Now that she’d come to her senses, she was probably relieved
they hadn’t slept together. It would have been an epic mistake.

Garrett couldn’t share her relief. He was too keyed up to feel
anything but shame and acute disappointment. For her protection, he couldn’t
tell her why he wasn’t available. If she knew what he was hiding, she’d tell him
to get the hell away from her. He had to guard his secret in order to keep her
close.

As they walked past an old Ford, he noticed condensation on the
windows. Putting his arm around Lauren, he directed her away from the car before
glancing into the interior. Owen was asleep in the backseat.

Garrett didn’t wake him up.

“What it is?” Lauren asked.

“One of the convicts. The youngest.”

“Do you think he’s dangerous?”

“Yes.”

“As dangerous as the others?”

“Maybe.”

“Don told me he brought some toys for Cadence, and baby
blankets for Penny.”

It was possible that Owen had a soft spot for women and
children, but Garrett wasn’t convinced of his good intentions. He might be
trying to ingratiate himself to them. The kid had a feral glint in his eyes, as
if he expected violence at every turn. Garrett had seen that look before. In
Ramadi, they’d have put him on point.

Owen was a loose cannon. He also knew Garrett’s secret. For
that reason alone, Garrett didn’t want him around.

“Those dumb fucks wasted their water putting out a fire last
night,” he said.

“You’re joking.”

He shook his head. “I wish.”

She continued to the triage area to care for Sam. Garrett stood
watch outside the tent, his mind in turmoil.

He was so hung up on what happened after he woke that he hadn’t
even begun to process what he’d done before. He had no recollection of the
nightmare. When he came to on top of Lauren, his face stinging from her
blows...

He’d feared the worst.

Garrett was glad he hadn’t sexually assaulted her. That would
have destroyed them both. He’d never forgive himself for hurting a woman that
way.

Last night’s fires and car crashes had reminded him of war. He
should have anticipated a flashback. Memories of Jessica Morales must have
seeped into his subconscious. He rarely thought of her while he was awake. It
was too painful.

Lauren elicited some of the same feelings that Jessica had
inspired in him. Fear, protectiveness, respect. Caring.

He didn’t fool himself into believing that Lauren had any
special regard for him. She might be into casual hookups, or she might not. It
didn’t really matter. He knew what she wanted from him: an escape.

He’d love to give it to her.

After her short crying jag, she seemed to have regained her
senses. He didn’t think he’d have to worry about going too far with her again.
He couldn’t believe that she’d let him put his dirty hands on her once. She’d
felt so goddamned good underneath him, so soft and warm and responsive. As if
she was made for him.

Smothering a groan, he pushed the erotic images from his mind.
He was lucky he’d found the strength to stop. Taking advantage of her under
these circumstances would have been really fucked up of him.

The cavern was cold and eerie at this time of morning. It
smelled faintly of decay, mixed with the stronger odors of burned trash and
spilled gasoline. Later, light would filter in and the temperature would
rise.

Right now it felt like a tomb.

The silence was deafening. San Diego wasn’t New York, but its
freeways were usually packed from before dawn to well after sunset. His ears
strained for the familiar thrum of traffic, or the encouraging whine of a plane
engine.

Nothing.

After sunrise, Don got up to make coffee. Cadence and Penny
came outside, their eyes sleepy and hair mussed. The girls, Lauren included, sat
in camp chairs in front of the RV. Don and Garrett made seats of overturned
buckets.

Breakfast consisted of canned fruit and honey-nut granola bars.
While Don passed out the slim pickings, Garrett fantasized about steak and eggs.
A few minutes later, Owen emerged from the Ford in the corner, looking as wary
as a stray dog. His face was gaunt, as well as bruised. Garrett wondered if Jeb
and Mickey had been feeding him.

Don glanced into the can of peaches he was holding. He’d given
everyone a half slice. There was one left. When Don shot him a questioning look,
Garrett shrugged, referring to Lauren. She didn’t raise any objections.

“You hungry?” Don called out.

Owen nodded, adjusting the backpack on his shoulder.

“Come on, then.”

He came forward and sat down on the empty bucket next to Penny.
She acted as if he wasn’t there. Don handed him the can, along with the last
piece of granola.

“Thanks,” he said, wolfing down the food. He swallowed the
peach slice without chewing and drank the juice straight from the can.

Penny wrinkled her nose at his poor manners.

“Is there anything else to eat, Grandpa?” Cadence asked.

“Not until lunch, sugarplum. But you can have hot cocoa.”

Don made cocoa for Cadence while everyone else drank
watered-down coffee. Although no one complained about being hungry, Garrett knew
that mealtimes would be disappointing from here on out. There wasn’t enough to
go around. Penny squinted at Owen in annoyance, as if he’d stolen her share.

“You can’t eat with us
and
them,”
she said. “It’s not fair.”

His gaze slid over Penny’s rounded stomach. Her condition
seemed to make him nervous. “I don’t want to go back to them.”

“Did someone invite you to stay here?”

Shifting in discomfort, he surveyed the group. Garrett kept his
mouth shut. If Owen thought they were going to welcome him with open arms, he
was in for a surprise. Garrett would let the women decide Owen’s fate.

“Maybe we should consider it,” Lauren said.

Penny gaped at her. “He could be a rapist!”

Owen’s tattooed neck flushed red.

“Are you a rapist?” Lauren asked, sipping her coffee.

“No,” he said hotly. “Hell, no.”

“At least one of your friends is,” Garrett pointed out.

“What do you mean?”

“Mickey tried to assault Lauren the first night.”

His gaze moved from Lauren’s face to Garrett’s bandaged fist.
“Guess he got what he deserved.”

Not by a long shot,
Garrett
thought. “If Jeb hadn’t pulled his gun, he’d have got a little more.”

“Fair enough,” Owen said, unperturbed. “He’s not my
friend.”

“Why were you with him?”

He lifted his left arm, showing a dark line around his wrist.
“We were shackled together in the transport vehicle. Jeb got free and took off
with the keys. Mickey followed, dragging me along behind him.”

Garrett had wondered about that. They hadn’t saved an
unconscious man out of the kindness of their hearts.

“You’re not wearing stripes,” Cadence said.

Owen’s clothes were identical to Garrett’s: black boots, dirty
white T-shirt, blue jeans. But if either Lauren or Don noticed the coincidence,
they didn’t remark on it.

“We’re on the manual labor crew,” Owen explained. “They let us
wear work clothes when we go to the job site.”

“How’d you get arrested in the first place?” Penny asked.

“My brother robbed a liquor store,” he said, leaning back in
his chair. “I drove the getaway car.”

“Did you know what he was going to do?”

“Well, I didn’t think he was going to kill the cashier. But I
knew he had a gun, and I understood what he was capable of.”

They fell into an awkward silence.

Penny crossed her arms over her chest and looked away, her body
language closed off. She didn’t want a dangerous criminal around. What would she
say when she discovered what Garrett had done?

More important, what would
Lauren
think? She’d be devastated by the news. She wouldn’t trust him anymore.

“Thanks for the breakfast,” Owen said, finishing his coffee. “I
only came over because I have an idea about how to get out of here.”

“What’s that?” Garrett asked.

“There’s a cutting torch in your supplies. I watched you take
it out of the back of that welding truck.”

“You know how to use it?”

“Yep. It’ll slice right through that rebar.”

Garrett turned to study the crevice in the wall, his pulse
accelerating with excitement.
Well, hot damn.
He’d
thought about trying bolt cutters, but the rebar was as thick as his thumb.
“You’ve done it before?”

“Lots of times. My dad was a welder.”

“Are you familiar with climbing?”

“No. Can’t do much worse than you at it, though.”

Garrett gave Owen another once-over. The kid was an inch or two
taller than him, and he had a lean, whipcord physique. He looked strong and
agile. If he fell, Garrett wouldn’t have any trouble holding his weight on the
line.

Maybe keeping him around wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.

* * *

P
ENNY
MADE
A
SOUND
of frustration and threw the
doll across the RV.

She’d been practicing with the baby blankets Owen had given
her, but she couldn’t get the doll wrapped up right. Those infant-care classes
she’d taken had stressed the importance of “swaddling.”

Penny was doomed. She couldn’t even swaddle a doll. What would
she do with a squalling, squiggling baby?

Cadence picked up the doll and cradled it in her arms,
murmuring soft words of comfort. She had more patience—and better instincts—than
Penny. “I don’t think you’re tucking the corner in tight enough,” she said.
Laying the doll on the blanket again, she folded her into a secure little
bundle. “See?”

“I give up,” Penny said.

Cadence frowned. “Already?”

Sighing, Penny went to the front window. Garrett and Owen were
having an animated conversation about the welding equipment. “He’s going to get
hurt.”

“Who?”

“Owen. He doesn’t know anything about climbing.”

“Neither did Garrett.”

“And look what happened to him.”

Cadence put the doll on her shoulder, patting its back. “He
only fell because of the aftershock.”

“The welding stuff looks really dangerous, too. He’ll probably
cut his arm off.”

“Why do you care?”

Penny tore her gaze away from Owen. “I don’t.”

“You think we should sit and wait, instead of trying to get
out?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I didn’t say that.”

Cadence set aside the doll and started performing her
gymnastics routine. She could do cartwheels, back walkovers, the splits. Her
lively motions made Penny’s head spin with nausea. She felt huge and ungainly,
like a prisoner inside her own body. She was trapped in the RV, stuck under a
freeway.

Instead of yanking her hair out, or screaming at the top of her
lungs, she took a deep breath and glanced around for something to do. She
spotted the clothes Lauren had given her. Desperate for any change, she picked
up the outfit and headed into the bathroom, avoiding her reflection in the
mirror.

She knew she looked awful. Puffy eyes, round cheeks, mussed
braids.

Sniffling, she yanked the borrowed clothes off and moistened a
washcloth. After getting as clean as possible, she donned the dark blue dress.
It was soft and comfortable, draping over her belly. She used a bit of
toothpaste and rebraided her hair. While she applied some of Cadence’s cherry
chapstick, the baby shifted.

She sat down on the toilet lid, trying not to cry.

In the early stages, she’d considered terminating the
pregnancy, but she knew her parents wouldn’t approve. They were very religious.
Tyler had gone away to his Ivy League university, and he was ignoring her
emails. He’d been so sweet at that beach bonfire over the summer. She thought
they might be able to make it work.