Badlands

by Jill Sorenson

  “No, I said you could kill me if I did. I’d rather not, but the choice is yours. Do you want to fight me now and risk her safety? Or do you want to shut the fuck up and wait here while I deliver her to her father?”

  Clenching his jaw, Owen put the cuff on.

  “That’s what I thought,” Shane said.

  Penny tried to jerk her arm from Shane’s grasp. When he held tight, she cursed him in Spanish.

  “Speak English,” he reminded her.

  “Fuck you.”

  He laughed in approval and let her go. With a strangled sob, she threw her arms around Owen’s neck and pressed her lips to his, kissing him desperately. Not caring that Shane had orchestrated this scene, Owen kissed her back with the same fervor, dipping his tongue into her mouth.

  “Break it up,” Shane said, clearing his throat. “Jesus, you two are like a couple of teenagers.”

  Penny released Owen with reluctance, returning to Shane’s side. He holstered the gun and secured her arms behind her back with duct tape. Then he lifted her into the boat, climbed inside, and pushed away from the shore. The ignition started the first try.

  “Do me a favor,” he shouted above the roar of the engine. “Say goodbye to Mom and Jamie for me. Tell them...tell them I love them.”

  Owen sank to a sitting position on the shore, devastated.

  “Will you do it?”

  “No,” he yelled back in a hoarse voice, but it was a lie. He held Penny’s gaze until she disappeared into the blue.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  JANELLE WOKE WITH A START.

  She lifted her head, disoriented. Her wrists were still bound, her right shoulder stiff from leaning on it. Sometime during the long, terrifying night, she’d fallen asleep in the passenger seat of the stranger’s pickup. He’d given her a balled-up sweatshirt to use as a pillow. The fabric smelled of motor oil, Marlboros and male deodorant. She straightened, glancing around. The stranger wasn’t in the cab.

  Janelle reached for the door handle with numb fingers. When it didn’t work, she remembered the door was locked. She scooted across the seat and tried the driver’s side door, her mind sluggish from sleep. It swung open, and she tumbled out, falling on her hands and knees in the dusty gravel.

  “Going somewhere?”

  The stranger was standing nearby, facing a concrete wall. Before turning toward her, he made a shaking motion and zipped up his pants.

  Heart racing, she searched for an escape route. It was early morning. They were in Bombay Beach, a local ghost town. Other than the run-down motel and a bunch of condemned buildings, there was nothing out here.

  She had nowhere to run. And she couldn’t actually get up. “I’ll scream,” she said in a tremulous voice.

  He shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest.

  Tears welled in her eyes, and blood trickled down her shin. She didn’t make a sound. When he stepped forward to help her to her feet, she said, “I have to pee.”

  “Go ahead.”

  She unbuttoned her shorts with trembling hands. He averted his gaze, as if he hadn’t already seen the goods, while she squatted down. After she was done, she stood, pulling her shorts and panties up.

  He lifted her back into the cab and pushed her across the seat. Climbing behind the wheel, he slammed the door and shook two cigarettes out of the pack, giving her one. She put the end in her mouth and leaned toward the flame of his lighter to spark it.

  The stranger didn’t want sex. That much was clear. He’d made no attempt to touch her, harm her, or humiliate her. Maybe he would keep her as his domestic slave, or get her hooked on drugs and turn her into a prostitute.

  Whatever his intentions, he was a sick fuck. She could tell by the way he just sat there, smoking. And by the way he twisted off the cap from a bottle of water before offering her a sip. Only a deeply disturbed individual could remain so calm and polite, as if he wasn’t planning to hack her up with a chain saw.

  He stared at the Jeep in the parking lot, saying nothing.

  It occurred to her, somewhat belatedly, that he knew the person inside the motel room. The stranger might have stolen her to fulfill another man’s perverse appetites. What were they waiting for? Why didn’t he hand over the goods?

  She watched the motel door with increasing anxiety. Finally, a man came out. “Shane,” she breathed, recognizing him on sight. He had the same bad-boy swagger, with bigger muscles and longer hair.

  This was all about Shane, she realized. The stranger was after him, not her.

  Leaving the door open, Shane grabbed a bag from the back of the Jeep. Then he walked back inside the motel room.

  “Does he owe you money?” she asked.

  The stranger didn’t answer.

  “If you think you can get revenge on him by hurting me, you’re wrong. He doesn’t care about me.”

  “Is there someone else he cares about?”

  Her stomach dropped. Did he mean Jamie? “No.”

  “I know where your son is,” he said. “I followed you Saturday night, too. You went to your mother’s house.”

  “Don’t you dare touch my son,” she growled, ready to claw his eyes out. “I will rip your goddamned face off.”

  He smiled at this warning, a bit sadly.

  The fact that he hadn’t kidnapped her for deviant sexual purposes didn’t ease her fears. Shane wouldn’t bail her out. He wasn’t capable of unselfish actions. She could have endured another rape, or survived years locked in a dungeon. But counting on Shane to save her? That was laughable.

  “You want something from Shane,” she said, “and you’re holding me hostage until you get it.”

  “Yes.”

  “Does he know what you want?”

  “Of course.”

  “Are you sure he has it?”

  “He doesn’t have it yet. That’s why we’re waiting.”

  “What if he can’t get it?”

  “Then he’d better hope the police find him before I do.”

  “What if he gets it but doesn’t give it to you?”

  “He dies.”

  A chill traveled up her spine, because she believed him. She was afraid to ask what he’d do to her in that case. If this man was going to kill her, he wouldn’t tell her about it. And she wouldn’t believe him if he said otherwise.

  Janelle wasn’t interested in the details of whatever deal Shane had made with this devil. She only knew that her ex wasn’t dependable. He was cocky and charming, fairly good in bed, but useless in all other things. He wouldn’t hold up his end of the bargain. So she had to negotiate a release on her own terms.

  Or at least give herself some...wiggle room.

  She studied the stranger once again. He was attractive in a rough-edged way, his skin coarsely tanned. She pegged him as a former drug user as well as an ex-con, though he looked strong and clear-eyed now. He’d probably grown up poor in this area or a similar community. Janelle knew a desert rat when she saw one.

  Beneath the harsh exterior, he seemed hollow. But he hadn’t been disrespectful in the VIP room, and he hadn’t forced himself on her. She was almost certain he’d declined her offer for a blow job because he didn’t believe she wanted to.

  Maybe if she was more convincing, he’d weaken. She had no other tools at her disposal, no weapons but sex.

  “Why did you come into the club?” she asked.

  “Why not?”

  “You already knew who I was.”

  “I wanted to make sure.”

  “And you needed a lap dance to identify me?”

  “No,” he said. “I identified you while we were discussing your...price. Then it seemed rude to walk away.”

  She shook her head, feigning insult. “Wow.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve never had a pity customer.”

  “I didn’t feel sorry for you, honey. You’re hot, and I was curious. Pity doesn’t make a man’s dick hard.”

  Biting her lower lip, she let her gaze slide down to his
crotch.

  He looked from her mouth to the motel room door and back again. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

  Her eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

  “Just spare me the stripper bullshit. You’re a lot more appealing as yourself.”

  She’d been too obvious. Cheeks heating with shame, she looked away. Fake-horny was the only card she knew how to play, and now she was out of ideas. She should have asked him about himself, warmed him up a little. It wasn’t like she’d never worked a mark before. Fear had made her clumsy.

  He wasn’t stupid.

  After a tense silence, the motel room door opened again. A dark-haired young woman Janelle recognized as Penny Sandoval stepped out. Owen followed, his hands cuffed in front. Shane didn’t seem to catch sight of the black truck in the distance. It was disguised among palm trees and piles of rubble.

  “Who’s that, his brother?”

  Janelle didn’t answer.

  “Doesn’t look like he’s in on it.”

  In on what? she wondered. “He wouldn’t be involved in anything illegal.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I just do. I know him.”

  He squinted at her. “How well?”

  “Well enough.”

  “Are you sleeping with him?”

  She gave him a dirty look. “He’s my son’s uncle.”

  “He’s not your uncle.”

  “I’m not sleeping with him.”

  “And he’s a straight arrow, you say?”

  “Yes.”

  He made a noncommittal sound.

  “What?”

  “Looks like you picked the wrong brother to have a kid with.”

  True or not, the observation stung. She regretted getting mixed up with a loser and becoming a teen mother, but she loved Jamie to pieces. Her son was perfect and innocent. Without Shane, she wouldn’t have Jamie. “Don’t talk about my son.”

  The stranger followed Shane’s vehicle away from the motel, keeping several deserted city blocks between them. They entered the Salton Sea State Recreation Area. Shane left Owen there and headed back to Bombay Beach, parking the Jeep among the ruins of an old playground. He got out and walked across the bone-scattered beach with Penny, a gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans.

  “She’s his prisoner,” Janelle guessed. She’d never met Penny Sandoval, but she’d watched the recent television interview with interest. Penny was beautiful and smart and rich. She wouldn’t go anywhere with Shane by choice. “He’s ransoming her to her father.”

  “Do you know her?”

  “No.”

  The stranger parked behind a ripped canvas billboard, close enough to keep an eye on the Jeep without being noticed.

  “Now what?” Janelle asked.

  “We wait.”

  * * *

  PENNY SAT ON the aluminum bench in the middle of the boat, her heart pounding.

  Owen knelt in the crushed bones on the beach and watched them speed away. She held his gaze as long as possible, terrified she’d never see him again.

  Shane puttered around the Salton Sea until he found the right spot to do the money exchange. Then he looked up the coordinates on his GPS radio and gave them to her father. They settled in, waiting for him to arrive.

  Penny felt Shane watching her. She didn’t want to look at him or speak to him. She wanted to close her eyes and think of Owen, to touch her fingertips to her lips and replay their goodbye kiss.

  Last night, she’d been so full of unfamiliar feelings. The intimate contact had caused something to shift inside her, revealing a hidden bud she hadn’t known was there. This morning, it had blossomed, spreading throughout her chest.

  She was in love with Owen.

  She was in love with him.

  She loved him.

  Penny wasn’t sure if she’d felt this way all along, and their frantic groping had broken down her inhibitions, or if the connection they’d always shared had deepened little by little, growing exponentially in the past few days.

  How unfair it was to realize this now, after they’d parted. She should have known earlier, whispered it to him in the shower. She hoped that Shane wouldn’t cause some terrible tragedy before she had the chance to tell Owen.

  Tears blurred her vision as she studied their surroundings. The Salton Sea wasn’t ugly up close, and it only smelled bad on the shore. Out in the middle, its surface was like a blue mirror, shimmering with hidden depths.

  “My brother’s in love with you,” Shane said.

  She turned her gaze to him, surprised. “Did he tell you that?”

  “He didn’t have to.”

  Her pulse jumped, and she glanced away, uncomfortable. Shane bore an uncanny resemblance to Owen, only his good looks hid a black interior. She assumed his reason for starting this conversation was to needle her, and she resented being pushed around by him, physically and emotionally.

  “Are you toying with him?” Shane asked.

  “No.”

  “Some rich girls like to go slumming.”

  “I’m not slumming.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “Then we disagree on the definition. Slumming is hanging out with someone from a lower social class just for kicks.”

  “I think it means dating a guy you wouldn’t introduce to daddy.”

  “My father already knows Owen.”

  “Does he know you’re fucking him?”

  She fell silent, refusing to answer. Then she said, “You’re breaking his heart, you know. He can’t help but love you.”

  Shane paused for a moment, weighing her words. “He might love me, but he doesn’t expect anything from me. I’m a worthless bastard. You’re his dream girl. He got a taste of you, and now he’s done for. He’s so whipped on you, he thinks your pussy’s the pathway to heaven. You’ll crush him.”

  She flushed at his crude language. “He doesn’t believe he’s good enough for me.”

  “He’s wrong,” Shane said, staring across the sea. “I got all the bad in the family. He’s as good as gold, always has been.”

  Penny didn’t like Shane, but she could appreciate his sincerity. “Let’s make a deal. I won’t hurt him if you won’t.”

  He studied her face, seeming to be conflicted. Although he didn’t agree to uphold his end of the bargain, she got the impression that he wanted to. Maybe he didn’t trust himself to follow through on any promises.

  The sound of a powerboat alerted them to her father’s presence. He slowed down and drifted closer, his body language tense. His state of undress made him look unbearably vulnerable. Penny wasn’t used to seeing him shirtless, scared or alone. Her eyes filled with tears, and she pictured Cruz. There was nothing worse than being afraid for your child. She couldn’t wait to be reunited with her son.

  Shane held up a hand in greeting. “I’m going to throw you this bag,” he said, showing him a canvas knapsack. “Transfer the money into it slowly.”

  Her father looked at her. “Are you okay, mija?”

  “I’m fine, Daddy.”

  Shane didn’t ask Jorge to speak English, but he seemed annoyed as he tossed the bag into the powerboat. Her father unzipped his black duffel bag and took out fat green stacks of bills, shoving them into the knapsack. Shane watched closely, as if he suspected the money of being marked or bugged. He kept glancing up at the sky.

  When her father was finished with the task, he cinched the knapsack closed. “Do you want me to hand it to you?”

  “No,” Shane said. “Leave it there. Throw the empty bag into the water.”

  Jorge did as he was told. The duffel bag floated on the flat surface like a black stingray, handles outstretched.

  “How’s Cruz?” Penny asked.

  “He’s safe,” her father answered. “Worried about you.”

  She nodded, blinking her tears away.

  “Thank you for sending my grandson home early,” her father said to Shane. “And for not harming my daughter. I am forever in your
debt.”

  Shane grunted a response, unimpressed by the lip service. “You’re paying good money for something I stole from you, so cut the crap. I’m not going to be impressed by the fancy manners you learned here in America.”

  Her father didn’t even flinch at the insult. “Very well.”

  “What do you think of your daughter and my brother?”

  His brows rose. Racially charged remarks, he expected. This, he did not. “Your brother?”

  “Don’t pretend not to know what I mean.”

  “Owen Jackson, of my security team,” her father said, nodding. “He helped Penny during the San Diego earthquake. He’s earned my gratitude and my respect.”

  “How about your daughter? Has he earned the right to touch her?”

  Her father wore a bland expression. “My daughter makes her own decisions,” he said, lying with casual diplomacy.

  “Tell him how you feel about Owen,” Shane ordered Penny.

  She didn’t know what to say. She’d only just realized how she felt. Her love for Owen was too new to share with anyone. She wanted to savor it, hold it inside, and declare it to Owen—when she was ready.

  The pressure was too much. She resented Shane’s manipulations, as well as her father’s. Trapped between two opposing forces, she had no room to breathe. She was tired of being told what to do and who to date.

  “That’s what I figured,” Shane said, drawing his gun.

  “No,” her father shouted. “Please!”

  “Quiet down, padre,” he said, breaking his English-only rule. He grabbed Penny by the arm and yanked her to her feet.

  She just stared at him, her heart in her throat.

  “Maybe my brother’s too good for you.” He was so close she could see the individual whiskers above his lip, short and spiky. He crushed his mouth over hers cruelly, stealing the sweet kiss Owen had given her.

  Then he pushed her overboard.

  She screamed as she hit the water, her legs flailing. Her cry was swallowed by the sea as she sank below the surface. Bubbles flurried from her nostrils and salt burned her eyes, as if she’d been submerged in lukewarm brine. Gagging on the brackish taste, she struggled to free her hands, to no avail.

  Above her, the muffled sound of gunshots rang out. Bullets tore through the bottom of the boat, whizzing past her like submarine missiles.