Badlands (15 page)

“Go get it,” he told Penny.

She didn’t like being bossed around any more than she liked being manhandled, but she acquiesced to his demands. When she returned with the bottle of whiskey, Shane gulped down a few swallows. Owen said nothing. Although his brother was a mean drunk, like their father, they’d have a chance to escape if Shane got wasted.

Drink up, brother. Drink up.

“What’s your plan?” Owen asked.

“The exchange was supposed to happen today, but that went to shit.”

“Why?”

“I don’t have any help, thanks to you.” He flicked his ashes into an empty cup. “I need at least one other guy to pull it off.”

Owen didn’t feel bad about throwing a wrench in the works. Nor did he consider it his fault that Dirk was dead. He’d defended himself during the first strike. Then he’d defended Cruz. His only regret was letting his brother cuff him so easily. But he’d been sick and stunned, overwhelmed by the bloody mayhem.

Shane lit another cigarette using the cherry of his previous one. “Dirk was my friend.”

“I’m your brother.”

“Right now, you’re a fucking thorn in my side.”

“Why did you get even involved in this?” Owen asked, frustrated. “Do you
want
to go back to prison?”

“I had no choice.”

“You still have a choice. You can turn yourself in.”

“No, I can’t,” Shane said. “They’ll go after Jamie.”

Owen studied Shane from across the table, his pulse pounding with animosity. Shane had gone forward with this plan, knowing it might endanger his son. His actions were unconscionable. Owen calculated the possibility of disarming him, but decided against it. In these close quarters, bullets might fly. And...he was weary of violence. He didn’t want to attack his brother in their childhood home.

“Who are they?” Owen asked.

“I don’t know. They’re affiliated with the Brotherhood. The guy I answer to is just a middleman.”

“What’s his name?”

Shane didn’t answer.

“Do they want to assassinate Sandoval?”

“No,” Shane said. He rose, grabbing a folded newspaper from the countertop. Reading the front page, he tossed it down. “They don’t need to.”

Owen glanced at the bold headline: Sandoval Drops Out. The accompanying article included a vaguely worded press release from his campaign, citing a family emergency. Speculation was rampant that his wife had a recently diagnosed terminal illness. Sandoval’s top competitor, the runner-up for the GOP nomination, was slated to take his place. “You’re responsible for this?”

“That was one of the conditions,” Shane said. “It was supposed to be a simple exchange, no problems. Your girl and the kid would be home right now if you hadn’t decided to play hero. We never meant to hurt them.”

Owen stared at the newspaper, stunned.

Shane took another drag of his cigarette, glancing across the room. Penny was sitting on the couch with Cruz. “Is she your girlfriend?”

“No.”

“Liar,” Shane said.

“I care about her. You can’t understand that because you’re a heartless bastard.”

“You have her son’s name tattooed on your chest.”

“So what?”

“She says he’s yours.”

“He might as well be.”

Shane made a skeptical noise.

“I’ll help you if you let him go,” Owen said.

“What?”

“You said you didn’t mean to take Cruz. So, give him back.”

“How?”

“Mom can drive him. She’ll be home from work soon.”

“She can’t deliver him to their front door,” he said, shaking his head. “They’ll arrest her on the spot.”

“She can put him in a cab at LAX.”

Penny was listening to their conversation. She turned her gaze to Shane, hopeful. Owen would have liked to bargain for them both to go home, but his brother would never agree to that. Shane needed someone to ransom.

“You know it’s the right thing to do,” Owen said.

“Since when have I ever done the right thing?”

“Do it, just this once. Think of Jamie.”

Shane didn’t like the idea, but his options were limited. If he wanted Owen’s cooperation, this was the only way to get it. “Shit,” he said in a defeated tone, swigging whiskey.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

P
ENNY
KISSED
C
RUZ
on the head and rose, leaving him to watch cartoons.

The thought of leaving without him made her anxious, but not as anxious as him staying here with Owen’s brother.

Shane was handsome, like Owen, but his shaggy blond hair and pumped-up muscles didn’t appeal to her. Although they shared the same pale blue eyes, Shane’s held no warmth or depth. A hint of sensitivity softened Owen’s strong, angular features, while the lack of it lent Shane a cruel edge.

He stared at Penny, his expression flat. “Bring me the phone.”

She went to get the cordless receiver from the console, passing it to Shane. She slid into the chair beside him.

“Call Janelle,” Shane said to Owen. “I told her to take Jamie to her mother’s, and I want to make sure she did it.”

Owen dialed the number and listened. “No answer. She’s probably working.”

“Where at?”

He hesitated, seeming uneasy with this topic. “Club Vixen.”

Shane’s face went slack. “Since when?”

“Since you went away.”

“Did Mom know?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t she tell me?”

“You’ll have to ask her.”

“She can’t find a job that doesn’t involve showing her tits?”

“Kids are expensive,” he said. “You’ve never paid child support. She has to make ends meet somehow.”

Shane stood, swearing under his breath. It was the first display of emotion she’d seen from him. He’d executed Dirk without batting an eye. He had no qualms about kidnapping and murder, but this bothered him? Penny couldn’t tell if he didn’t want his child’s mother stripping for selfish reasons, or if he felt guilty about being a deadbeat dad.

A bit of both, perhaps.

Owen called Janelle’s mother to confirm that Jamie was there. He asked to say hello to Jamie, at Shane’s request. Shane took the phone and listened to his son’s voice for a moment. Although his face didn’t reveal it, Penny imagined that he felt something. She tore her gaze away before her sympathy reflex could get triggered.

Shane handed the phone back without speaking. Owen had a short conversation with Jamie about soccer and hung up.

“Does Dad’s boat still run?” Shane asked, looking at Owen.

He shrugged. “It’s been sitting idle for over a year.”

“Can you get it started?”

“Probably.”

“We have to go.”

Before they left, Shane allowed Penny to grab a change of clothes and some first-aid supplies from their mother’s bedroom. There were several metallic disks on top of her dresser, like award medals. One of them said Ninety Days.

Shane picked it up, turning to Owen. “When did Mom get back in the program?”

“About a year ago.”

“What program?” Penny asked, curious.

“Twelve Steps,” Shane replied. “It’s like rehab, for poor people.”

“I’ve heard of it,” she said.

“She never mentioned it to me,” Shane said.

“Maybe she wanted it to be a surprise.”

Penny looked through the drawers, finding some old clothes for her and Owen. She put the items in a plastic bag, along with underwear and some bandages. Shane didn’t protest when she added a few toiletries to the mix.

He removed Owen’s handcuffs, letting him use the restroom and wash up. When Owen came out, bare-chested, he put on the clean shirt Penny offered. Shane watched him like a hawk, even though Owen had promised to cooperate. At least Shane cuffed his hands in front, which was more comfortable.

“Get some food from the pantry,” he told Penny. “And a cup of ice.”

While she followed those instructions, Shane sat down to write a note for his mother.

He slid the paper across the table to Owen. “I need the kid’s info.”

Penny didn’t want to leave Cruz. She’d hoped Shane would have a change of heart and decide to let them both go. He was a father and a son, but he seemed barely human. Her throat tightened as Owen jotted down her full name, address and phone number.

“Can I say goodbye?” Penny asked, swallowing hard.

Shane nodded, so she walked into the living room, kneeling in front of the couch. “Owen’s mother is going to take you to the airport.”

Cruz’s face lit up. “Will I fly in an airplane?”

“Not this time. You’ll get in a taxi and ride home by yourself.”

The novelty of a solo taxi ride didn’t appeal to him as much as an airplane. “Where are you going?”

Her heart clenched inside her chest, like water being wrung from wet cloth. “I’m going with Owen.”

His little mouth trembled. “I want to stay with you.”

Now that she was well hydrated, the tears didn’t build slowly. They gushed into her eyes and spilled over as she hugged him tight. “I know you do. But try to be a big boy, for Mommy. I’ll be home soon.” She choked out the last words. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

She didn’t want to let him go, but she was afraid he’d pick up on her anxiety and make a scene if she held on too long. As soon as she released him, Cruz ran into the kitchen and flung his arms around Owen.

“I’ll protect her,” Owen said. “Don’t worry.”

“Do you promise?”

“Yes.”

Penny bent down to kiss her son’s cheek. “Go watch TV until Owen’s mother gets here,” she said, ruffling his hair.

Cruz obeyed with reluctance.

Shane poured coffee over ice and used the phone to call his mother. Apparently, she was already on her way home.

They went into the garage to examine the condition of an old fishing boat. Penny stood by the Jeep, sniffling, while the brothers discussed which set of tools to bring. Shane grabbed a large bucket and tossed a garden hose into it, among other things. Owen climbed into the backseat and Penny took the front. Shane hitched up the boat trailer. Then they were riding down a lonely road. She felt hollow to the core, having left her baby—her heart and soul, her reason for living—alone in a trailer in Salton City.

Owen held her hand, stroking her fingers to comfort her. Shane noticed this and grunted, lighting another cigarette. He was drinking iced coffee now instead of booze, but she didn’t trust his driving.

“You think Mom will call the cops?” Shane asked.

“She might.”

He drove for about an hour, brooding in silence. When Penny’s tears dried up, she acknowledged that Cruz was in a much better situation. Her son would get home safe, whether Sally contacted the police or not. But Penny couldn’t take a deep breath until she knew for sure. Concern for him weighed heavily on her chest.

Although they passed by the Salton Sea, she couldn’t see it. The shore was on the driver’s side and only visible at brief intervals. She didn’t want to crane her neck toward Shane to catch a glimpse. She could smell it, however. The odor reminded her of the salted cod available in Mexican markets, mixed with the unpleasant stench of a Baja fish factory.

Soon they reached another small town. Shane pulled over at a deserted campground and parked in the day-use area. He turned off the engine, tossing Owen the handcuff keys. “Lock her to the wheel.”

Owen removed the cuffs and attached one of her wrists to the wheel, giving her an apologetic look. Then he pocketed the keys and got out.

She understood Shane’s strategy. It was the same one he’d used with her and Cruz. Owen wouldn’t leave her, so Shane didn’t have to worry about him running away. Owen might make a grab for the gun if he got the chance, so Shane wisely kept his distance. He wasn’t as stupid as she’d figured.

Shane sat down on a picnic table under a shade structure while Owen got to work. He filled up a bucket with water from a spigot and stuck the propeller into it. After tinkering with the engine for a while, adding fuel and oil and spraying some gunk on the parts, he cranked the ignition cord. It turned over.

Shane grinned around the butt of his cigarette, pleased. “I knew you could do it.”

Owen’s expression was more difficult to read. Penny couldn’t tell if he felt pride or shame or resignation. He seemed to bask in his brother’s praise and resent it at the same time. “Now what?”

Shane checked the time on his phone. “It’s almost four, too late to do the exchange. We’ll hide the boat somewhere and find a motel in Bombay.”

Owen dumped out the bucket and gathered their supplies, placing them in the backseat.

“Lock your wrist to hers,” Shane ordered.

He used the keys to remove the cuff from the steering wheel and snapped it on his wrist, attaching his right hand to her left. It was an uncomfortable arrangement. He had to extend his arm from the backseat and she was forced to keep hers bent.

Shane hopped behind the wheel, his mood punchy. As they left the campground, he glanced at Penny. He’d seen her before, but he’d never really
looked
at her. “Why did you say your son was Owen’s?”

“You had a gun to my head,” she said stiffly.

“Are you sleeping with him?”

She flushed with anger, refusing to answer.

“Lay off,” Owen said.

“Who’s the real dad?” Shane persisted.

“Some jerk,” she shot back.

“That kid likes you,” Shane said to Owen. “What’s the harm in telling him you’re the father?”

“How would you feel if Janelle did that with Jamie?”

He mulled it over. “Maybe he’d be better off thinking I was someone else.”

“Too late,” Owen said.

Shane dropped the subject. He didn’t seem upset, just contemplative, as if his feelings were buried so deep, he couldn’t access them. After a few minutes, he reached into his pocket for a cell phone. “Tell your dad to bring the money to the Texaco gas station in Brawley at 10:00 a.m. He has to come alone, with his phone. Repeat that back to me.”

Penny did.

He handed her his cell. “Remember to speak English. This is America, even if it looks like Mexico.”

“Mexico is part of America.”

“What?”

“Mexico is in North America, along with Canada and the United States.”

“Just make the call, smart-ass.”

She dialed the number, her heart pounding. About three hours had passed since she’d left Cruz in Salton City. He probably hadn’t arrived in L.A. yet.

“This is Jorge Sandoval.”

“Daddy,” she choked, instantly emotional.

“Gracias a Dios,”
he said. “Where are you?”

She gave him the instructions, word for word.

“I’ll be there,” he promised. “A cabdriver just called me from the airport. Cruz is coming home.”

Shane grabbed the phone and hung up before she could respond, but it didn’t matter. She let out a strangled sob. Her baby was safe.

“He said he’d heard from a cabdriver,” she told Owen. “Cruz is on the way.”

Owen squeezed her hand, sharing the moment with her. His eyes gleamed with tears. Although Penny desperately wanted to be reunited with her son, it was a huge relief to know he was okay.

Maybe this would all work out. Her father would bring the money, and she’d be back in L.A. with Cruz tomorrow afternoon.

Shane seemed annoyed by their display of affection. Obviously, a happy ending wasn’t in the cards for him. Penny could identify him by name. Even if he pulled off the exchange and paid his debt, he couldn’t just walk away. He’d spend the rest of his life on the run or in prison...assuming he lived.

She looked away, refusing to feel sorry for a man who’d threatened to cut out her tongue and search her body cavities. He’d arranged for Owen to be beaten and almost allowed Dirk to kill him. Shane had made his bed; now he could die in it.

They traveled around the southernmost tip of the Salton Sea and headed north. Again, the shore was on the driver’s side, and miles in the distance. By the time she spotted a sign that read Bombay Beach, it was early evening. As Shane turned left and drove toward the sea, she straightened in her seat, eager to get a better view.

It wasn’t what she expected.

Bombay Beach was a small community of aluminum trailers and ramshackle dwellings. Despite its name, she saw no Indian influence. If anything, there was a Dutch theme in the sprinkling of pointed roofs and windmills. Many of the houses appeared empty, their windows boarded, surfaces scrawled with graffiti. Others were occupied, judging by the dusty vehicles parked outside. She saw several golf carts milling around.

“Is there a golf course nearby?” she asked.

Shane laughed at the question. “There’s nothing out here.”

“They use electric carts because the gas station is so far away,” Owen said.

“Why is it called Bombay?”

“You tell us, Miss Geography.”

She had no answer, being only vaguely familiar with India. They continued over a man-made barrier that separated the town from an even more devastated area by the shore. It looked like a postapocalyptic junkyard. Abandoned structures and vehicles, some half-buried in sand, littered the landscape. Boats, buses, trailers, furniture—everything had been ravaged by the elements and left to rot.