Maybe keeping him around wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.
* * *
PENNY 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.
How naive.
When he came home for the winter holidays, he hadn’t wanted anything to do with her—or the baby. She’d been forced to contact his parents. They offered her a small settlement in exchange for Tyler signing away his rights, and she hadn’t been too proud to take it.
The money wasn’t enough to give her a comfortable life, however. Caring for a child was a huge responsibility. Penny didn’t know how she would juggle college classes with diaper changes and midnight feedings. Her parents wouldn’t support her as a single mother. They thought she’d brought shame to their family.
Thankfully, her aunt Bernice had stepped in. She wasn’t as conservative as Penny’s parents. Her kids were all grown, and she had plenty of room at her house. Bernice told Penny that she could stay with her as long as she needed to. Penny felt as though a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders. With Bernice’s help, she could manage.
But now Bernice was dead—and Penny was terrified. Maybe she’d been crazy to want to keep the baby. She didn’t know the first thing about umbilical cords or breast milk. What if she’d made the wrong decision?
She could die in childbirth. They could both die.
Cadence rapped on the door. “Penny?”
“What?”
“Are you okay?”
Wiping the tears from her eyes, she left the bathroom. “I’m fine.”
“I had a dream last night that the baby came,” Cadence said, picking up her Nintendo. “We were in Mario Kart land, driving around on the track with the baby in the front seat. The bad guys were chasing us.”
“Which bad guys?”
“The convicts. Jeb and Mickey.”
“Not Owen?”
“No. I don’t know where he was.”
Penny cupped one hand over her belly, using the other to rub her lower back. The ache was worse today. “I’m going to see Lauren.”
She looked up from the screen. “Can I come?”
“I’ll only be a few minutes. Stay here.”
Penny waved at Don before she walked away from the RV. Although she didn’t acknowledge Garrett or Owen, their conversation stalled as she passed by. Garrett asked a question about the welding equipment, but Owen didn’t answer. He stared at Penny, his eyes trailing down the front of her body.
She ducked into the triage tent, frowning. What was his problem? He acted like he’d never seen a pregnant woman before.
Lauren was inside, checking some tubes attached to Sam. He hadn’t so much as blinked since the earthquake.
“Where’s Mrs. Engle?” Penny asked.
“She died last night.”
Her mouth fell open. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
Lauren tucked a blanket around Sam. “I don’t know. I guess I felt...overwhelmed. Like I let her down.”
“You didn’t let her down,” Penny protested. “What more could you have done?”
“Stayed by her side. Not slept.”
Penny didn’t know what to say to comfort Lauren, or how to broach the next subject.
“How are you feeling?” Lauren asked.
“Okay.”
“No contractions?”
Although she’d had a few cramplike sensations, she shook her head. “I’d like to talk to you about Owen.”
“You don’t want him here.”
“How did you know?”
“It’s pretty obvious.”
Penny moistened her lips, nervous. “He has a swastika tattoo.”
“Yes.”
“And...his brother killed someone.”
“I’m more concerned about the way he looks at you, but I doubt he’ll try anything with Garrett and Don around.”
She pressed her lips together, close to tears. “I can’t stand sitting in the RV. I feel like I’m going to explode.”
Lauren’s expression softened. “Why don’t you walk around a little? You can go back and forth from the semi to the RV. I’d appreciate it if you kept listening to the radio and trying the SOS signal every few minutes.”
Penny promised to help, but she felt self-conscious about strolling around in circles. Owen’s scrutiny made her uneasy. She left the triage tent and trudged toward the semi with her hands splayed over her belly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Owen doing a demonstration with the cutting tool.
He put his face shield down and turned on the torch. It was like a spray wand to wash a car, except blue flames hissed from the tip. He touched the end to
a thick piece of metal, slicing it neatly.
Garrett’s grin indicated that he liked what he saw. Owen turned off the torch and flipped up his face shield. They talked excitedly together, not paying attention to her. Something about them reminded Penny of outlaws.
It was like the Wild West down here. There were no rules. Nobody cared about Owen’s white-trash tattoos. Garrett looked uncivilized, with his dirty clothes and beard-shadowed face. They were closed off from the outside world, but it wasn’t really that different. Men were free to do whatever they wanted.
Penny slipped into the semi, feeling as powerless as ever.
CHAPTER TEN
OWEN HEARD PENNY climb into the Kenworth truck and slam the door, but he didn’t turn his head toward the sound.
He’d already been caught leering.
Garrett had seemed amused by his preoccupation with her, and Owen understood why. The situation was laughable. She wasn’t just hostile and unattainable, she was pregnant. No dark-skinned girl would date him, either. The only women he had a chance with were Aryan Brotherhood groupies and trailer-park whores.
Scratch that. To have a chance, you had to have access. He had nothing.
“You like her,” Garrett commented.
“No,” he lied.
“If you touch her, I’ll kill you.”
Owen looked into Garrett’s eyes, startled. Unlike Jeb and Mickey, he wasn’t a big talker. He meant what he said. “I wouldn’t touch her. That’s...sick.”
Garrett grunted, unconvinced. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-one.”
“Been in long?”
“Three years.”
“Look, I can’t blame you for staring. I’m just letting you know how it is.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Owen assured him. “I’m not like Mickey.”
“What’s he been saying?”
Owen didn’t want to repeat it. Garrett had already issued one death threat, and they hadn’t even been talking about Lauren.
“Are they planning anything?” Garrett pressed.
“I don’t know. They hardly spoke to me.”
“What did they say to each other?”
“A lot of bullshit. They want to make you pay for breaking Mickey’s nose. They’d like to get their hands on Lauren.”
His mouth tightened with anger. “How much time are they doing?”
“Jeb’s a lifer. Mickey is almost up for parole.”
“Did they send you over here?”
“Hell, no,” Owen said, affronted. “I told you why I came. I want to get out of this place, not drink myself stupid.”
“They have more alcohol?”
“A few beers, maybe. The hard stuff is gone.”
Garrett hesitated a few seconds before broaching a new subject. “Lauren and the others don’t know where I’m from.”
“No shit,” Owen said, rolling his eyes.
“If she found out, she wouldn’t let me protect her.”
He smirked. “Or let you do anything else to her.”
“It’s not about that.”
Owen didn’t believe him, but he just shrugged. If Garrett wanted to pretend he wasn’t dying to bang Lauren, it was no skin off his back.
He also didn’t understand why Garrett seemed so torn over the deception. Owen had been raised to lie, cheat and steal. In his experience, the only time men regretted this kind of behavior was after they got caught.
Garrett cleared his throat, glancing up at the ceiling of the structure again. “I think this job needs to be done in stages. We have to chip away a lot more of the concrete before cutting the rebar.”
Owen nodded his agreement. He wasn’t in any hurry to fire up the torch. Although he was confident in his skills, the cutting work would be dangerous, like using a chain saw while hanging upside down.
“You have any experience with heights?” Garrett asked.
“Nope.”
“I can do the chipping and you can do the cutting. Or, you can teach me how to use the torch, and I’ll do both.”
“No,” Owen said. “I’ll do both.”
“You’ll get tired.”
“You’re already tired.”
Garrett narrowed his eyes. “Says who?”
“I saw you fall yesterday.”
“You’ve been watching us the whole time?”
Owen didn’t answer. He’d been trying to catch a glimpse of Penny. Seeing her up close gave his system a jolt. He thought he was getting used to it, but when she’d walked by in that blue dress, his heart had jumped into his throat.
“I’m not tired, but my shoulder and arm muscles are sore. Climbing that wall without handholds was a real bitch.”
“I can imagine,” Owen said. “I think my lighter weight will be an advantage.”
Garrett had completed the most difficult task yesterday by securing the climbing rope to the wall. During the aftershock, only the top two clips had busted loose. Owen would have to place some new anchors, preferably on both sides of the crevice. He’d also need to get comfortable, because breaking up the concrete might take all day.
“I wish we had some sort of pulley device,” Garrett muttered, searching through the gear. “That way we could go up and down without any trouble.”
Don helped them rig a simple system to lift Owen straight up in the air. The rope was still hanging from the uppermost clip, where Garrett had left it. They attached one end of the rope to Owen’s harness, and the other to the semitruck hitch.
As Garrett pulled the rope, Don took up the slack and wound it around the hitch to keep it from slipping.
The ascent wasn’t effortless, but it was faster than the technique Garrett had used yesterday. The main advantage was that Owen could save his strength for chipping. He reached the top clip without breaking a sweat.
Garrett held the rope steady, nodding at Owen to get started.
Owen turned his attention to the wall above him. He was only about twenty feet off the ground, but it seemed like a steep drop. Things shifted during earthquakes, and another aftershock could hit at any moment.
He didn’t feel very safe, hanging from a crumbling wall.
Putting the danger out of his mind, he focused on shortening the distance to the crevice. Instead of wedging a metal square into the cracks, as Garrett had, Owen hooked one of the clips directly to the rebar.
Pulse racing, he threaded his short rope through the clip. Now the lead rope was just a backup, and he had to climb higher on his own. With shaking hands, he pulled on the short rope, his muscles straining. It was a lot harder than it looked, and Garrett hadn’t made it look easy. When his harness was even with the clip, he attached them.
Christ. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, glancing down at Garrett.
“How’s it going?”
“It sucks,” Owen replied.
Garrett laughed in agreement.
Undeterred by the difficulty, Owen secured another clip to the rebar and heaved himself up another few feet. Twice more, and he was at the summit, panting like a worn-out dog. He attached two clips to the exposed rebar and hung suspended from his harness. It took a minute to catch his breath.
When he was ready, he removed the hammer and stake from his tool belt. Placing the pointy tip of the metal stake against the edge of the crack, he drew back his arm and struck the blunt end. A walnut-size piece of concrete broke loose and fell to his right. Owen made the mistake of watching it
hurtle toward the ground.
He squeezed his eyes shut and tightened his grip on the hammer, fighting vertigo. Nausea and dizziness slammed into him.
“Breathe,” Garrett said.
Owen sucked in oxygen, his heart racing. After a few gulps, the prickly sensation eased. He lifted the hammer again, determined to keep going. On his second attempt, the concrete didn’t budge. His third strike loosened another tiny piece.
Because he was reclining so far back, his arms were already tired. The hammer felt like it weighed twenty pounds.
This wasn’t working. He was going to fail.
Discouraged by his slow progress, he stared at the red SOS flag, flapping in the breeze. Cool air drifted in from the outside. Between the metal bars, the sky was gray. It smelled damp, like approaching rain.
Prisoners were kept inside during stormy weather, which was unusual in San Diego. Owen hadn’t felt rain on his face in a long, long time.
His mother had liked the rain.
For some reason, the thought made him feel like crying. He wasn’t the type to get choked up over little things. They were trapped in a hellhole with some crazy motherfuckers. He should cry about that.
“What’s wrong?” Garrett asked.
Owen blinked away the tears. “Nothing,” he said, setting the stake in place again. “Concrete dust in my eyes.”
He didn’t know what kept him going. Maybe it was Penny’s reluctance to let him stay. By breaking through this barrier, he could prove himself worthy of their group. Maybe it was a cumulative collection of all the bad things he’d done in his life. He could pretend that every strike of the hammer canceled one of them out.
Mostly, he just wanted to feel rain on his face.
An hour later, the stake slipped from his sweaty fist. It sailed through the air and clattered against the floor. Owen hooked the hammer to his belt, studying the space he’d created. Someone Cadence’s size might be able to fit through.
The rest of them needed more room.
His arms shook uncontrollably as he unclipped his harness from the rebar. He felt wasted, as if he’d drunk a fifth of Jack. This was the hardest work he’d ever done. And it wasn’t enough. They wouldn’t be able to get out today. Probably not tomorrow, either.
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