Instead of I wish, her heart whispered, soon.
Although he hadn’t admitted to anything, she’d seen the desire in his gaze. The kiss he’d given her yesterday afternoon had been smoldering with it. His reasons for holding back might be complicated, but she no longer thought he wasn’t interested.
“Do you still want to be a firefighter?” she asked, tentative.
“Yes.”
“Why did you take this job?”
He hesitated before answering. “Your father promised me a recommendation letter to the Los Angeles Fire Department. I don’t have a chance of getting hired without it.”
“Why not?”
“I’m a convicted felon, and it’s a competitive market.”
She’d wondered about that. Another friend of theirs from the earthquake, Sam Rutherford, had helped Owen get the job at Sierra National Park. Of course he needed a reference to gain entry to the LAFD.
“Your father also arranged for my transfer from Santee Lakes to Pleasant Valley. I owe him big for that.”
It was the least her father could do, after Owen had risked his life for Penny and the others trapped under the collapsed freeway. She was sure her father would come through with the recommendation, as well. Assuming they survived this horrible experience. Owen had gone above and beyond in his bodyguard duties.
“Speaking of letters, you never responded to mine.” She’d written him several times at Pleasant Valley State Prison. She’d asked him about it once, years ago. He’d merely said that he’d read them and changed the subject.
“I promised your father I wouldn’t contact you.”
She frowned at this unexpected news. “Why?”
“It was one of the terms of the transfer.”
“And after you got out?”
“I was a free man,” he said, shrugging. “As powerful as your father is, I doubted he’d get me thrown back in prison for being friends with you.”
He said this jokingly, but her father’s actions didn’t sit well with Penny. It felt like a conspiracy, an attack on her autonomy. Had he suspected she had a crush on Owen, even then? Her cheeks burned with indignation. She couldn’t believe Owen had gone along with all of this and never told her about it. She suspected that her father’s sneaky machinations fed into Owen’s lack of self-worth.
He thought he was doing the right thing by keeping his distance.
Instead of continuing the conversation, Owen got up and prepared to leave the train. She woke Cruz while he took some of the seat cushions to the wheelbarrow, making a comfortable padding. Penny climbed in with Cruz, who went back to sleep on her lap.
“How’s your arm?” she asked Owen, glancing at the bandage.
“It’s not bad.”
She took that to mean it hurt. He needed first aid and antibiotics. The man he’d...killed...had probably bled all over his open wound. The risk of contracting a communicable disease that way was small, but not insignificant. It was more likely that he’d get parasites or a bacterial infection from the water he’d used to wash with.
The injury didn’t seem to slow him down. He pushed hard as the sun blossomed over the horizon, shining warm rays across the barren landscape. Cruz woke up, hungry and irritable. He walked along the tracks until he got bored.
Penny’s muscles started to feel better as the temperature rose. She traded places with Cruz, stretching her legs. It was difficult to keep pace with Owen. Her feet hurt and she was hungry. But sitting in the wheelbarrow gave her a claustrophobic vibe that reminded her of the San Diego earthquake. In this vast wasteland, escape seemed impossible. There was rubble everywhere, death around every corner. No end in sight.
A blue flag fluttered in the distance. “What’s that?”
“Water station,” Owen said, wiping the sweat from his brow.
When they reached it, he removed the lid from a blue plastic bin. There were rocks inside to weigh down the bin, along with a gallon jug of water. Owen unscrewed the top and took a long drink, his throat working. Then he handed it to Penny, who shared with Cruz. As he reached up to steady the jug, an object slipped from his grip.
She bent to retrieve the pocketknife. “Where did you get this?”
“I gave it to him,” Owen said. “I forgot to ask for it back.”
“He could have cut his fingers, or tripped and fallen on the blade.”
Owen replaced the lid on the bin, appearing contrite.
“Can I keep it?” Cruz asked.
“No,” she said, appalled. “Didn’t you hear what I said? You could hurt yourself playing with knives.”
His brown eyes filled with tears. “I wasn’t playing with it.”
“What were you doing with it?”
“Just holding it. In case I needed to protect you.”
She looked at Owen, whose gaze reflected her heartache. “Mijo,” she said, curving her hand around her son’s neck. “You can protect me when you’re all grown up.”
He jerked away from her, refusing to be consoled. “I want to protect you now. Owen showed me how.”
“Great,” she muttered.
“I won’t get hurt.”
“You can’t have the knife, Cruz.”
He stared at Owen, his mouth trembling. When Owen didn’t offer any rebuke, he turned to Penny. “Owen said I could.”
“He’s not your mother,” she said, touching the center of her chest. “I am.”
“I wish you weren’t!”
She’d heard this kind of outburst before. Cruz had temper tantrums when he was tired or overexcited. Once, at Disneyland, he’d kicked her shin because she’d refused to wait two hours in the line for the Dumbo ride. Although she knew that this behavior was normal for children, especially during stressful situations, it made her feel like a failure. Maybe she wasn’t meeting his needs as a single parent.
Cruz stomped away from the tracks. He lay down on the ground and cried, his little body full of frustration.
She crossed her arms over her chest, sighing.
“He doesn’t mean it,” Owen said.
“I know.”
He snapped the flagpole in half, struck by inspiration. “Can he play with this?”
She smiled weakly. “Yes.”
They let Cruz blow off steam for a few minutes. When Owen approached him with the new toy, she tucked the pocketknife into her bra. Cruz wasn’t as excited about the flag, but he accepted it. He sat in the wheelbarrow, waving it back and forth.
About a mile down the tracks, something far more magnificent caught his attention. A huge bridgelike structure stretched over a steep gorge. The flag and the knife were forgotten in an instant. Cruz scrambled out of the wheelbarrow to look.
“World’s largest trestle,” Owen said, staring across the expanse.
“What’s it made out of?” Cruz asked.
“Redwood.”
An intricate maze of rust-colored wooden beams supported the tracks. They were as thick as railroad ties, crisscrossed like lattice. It must have been two hundred feet high, and three or four times as long. Not only that, the structure curved to the right. The tracks disappeared into a dark tunnel on the opposite cliff.
“Whoa,” Cruz said.
“Hold my hand,” Penny ordered as they got closer.
Cruz didn’t argue. It was an intimidating tangle of wood, sturdy-looking but old. The only thing separating them from the edge was a railing of thin metal cord.
“Is it safe?” she asked.
“Sure,” Owen said. “It was made to bear a lot of weight.”
“What if the wood is rotten?”
“It’s not. They built it in the early 1900s, and there were trains running this track five years ago.”
She hesitated to step forward, her pulse pounding.
“I’ll push you across in the wheelbarrow,” he offered.
“No.”
“You think I’ll dump you over the edge?”
She shook her head. “I just want to go at my own pace.”
“This is the last tunnel,” he said. “On the other side, we’re home free.”
“Close to the road, you mean?”
“Just a few miles.”
“It’s all right, Mommy,” Cruz said. “I won’t let you fall.”
She kissed the top of his head, forgiving his earlier misbehavior. “In that case, I’m ready.”
“I’ll go first,” Owen said.
He pushed the wheelbarrow while they walked on an aluminum grate next to the tracks. She couldn’t look down. Every step felt risky. Her stomach clenched with anxiety, empty and shriveled from lack of sustenance.
This would be a very bad place to faint.
When they got to the other side, she almost wilted with relief. She stopped to look back at the deep gorge in amazement. Owen put his arm around her, and she held on to Cruz’s small shoulders. They were like a family at the Grand Canyon.
After a quiet moment, they turned and headed toward the tunnel. Penny and Cruz followed Owen, who was pushing the empty wheelbarrow. She got the flashlight ready. Before they entered the dark recesses, a figure flew out and tackled Owen. They rolled across the tracks, perilously close to the cliff’s edge.
Penny screamed and pulled Cruz closer to her body, protecting him on instinct. But there was more than one attacker. A second man grabbed her from behind. He clasped his palm over her mouth and barred her waist with his arm. She was wrenched away from Cruz, yanked into the shadows of the tunnel.
She sank her teeth into his rough, salty skin.
“Goddamn it!”
Tasting blood, she bit harder.
Releasing her mouth, with some difficulty, he employed a different tactic: pressing the barrel of a gun to her temple. “Be still.”
She went still.
Cruz watched this, his eyes wide with terror. He couldn’t run away even if he wanted to. Penny and her captor where blocking the tunnel. Owen and Dirk were wrestling on the dusty ground in front of the trestle. Cruz was trapped between two horrifying struggles.
“Let go of my mommy!” Cruz said.
“Shut him up,” the man behind her said. Shane, she figured.
“I’m okay,” she choked out. “Stay right there. Stay quiet.”
He clenched his little hands into fists but obeyed. She shuddered to think of what he might have done with the pocketknife.
Shane probably meant to control Owen by threatening her, but Owen had his hands full with Dirk. He appeared to be fighting for his life, trading punches next to the overturned wheelbarrow.
When Owen drew the gun from his waistband, Shane inhaled a sharp breath. “I’ve got your woman, brother!”
Owen glanced at Penny. In that second of distraction, Dirk pounced. He straddled Owen and grabbed his wrist, slamming it against the ground. The weapon discharged with an earsplitting boom and tumbled over the edge of the cliff.
The battle would have been over at that point if Cruz hadn’t interfered. To her absolute horror, her son ran toward the melee. He drew back his foot and kicked Dirk in the ribs, hard enough to make him grunt.
When Dirk raised a hand to retaliate, Penny’s world came to a grinding halt. The next moment unfolded in slow motion. Dirk struck her son across the face and sent him flying. Cruz landed near the front of the tunnel, crumpled in a heap. His eyes were open but dazed. Penny screamed his name, reaching out to him.
Shane swore under his breath and tightened his grip.
Owen went nuts.
With a feral growl, he slammed his fist into Dirk’s stomach and shoved him aside. Dirk scrambled to his feet, coughing. Owen jumped up and pulled a knife from his belt. He advanced, slashing it at the other man’s midsection. His opponent leaped backward just in time. Dirk retreated toward the trestle, waggling his fingers at Owen in a clear invitation to bring it on. His nostrils were dripping blood, his eyes wild.
“Enough,” Shane yelled, dragging Penny from the shadows. “I have a gun to her head, you dumb fuck!”
Penny wanted to tell him not to surrender, but the words died in her throat. Even if Owen defeated Dirk, Shane would decide how this ended. Maybe he’d have mercy on Owen. Maybe he wouldn’t.
Owen looked over his shoulder at Cruz, wiping blood from his mouth. Her son was curled up in a little ball, crying. A muscle in Owen’s jaw clenched at the sight. He tossed his knife in the dirt, defeated.
“Turn around and get on the ground,” Dirk shouted. “Facedown.”
Owen followed those instructions, his eyes dead.
Dirk picked up the knife and rushed forward, stepping on the back of Owen’s neck. Owen bared his gritted teeth as Dirk applied more pressure, smashing his cheek against the ground. “You’re not so tough now, are you, motherfucker? You’re not so tough without a gun to shoot someone in the foot, or a knife to stab them with.”
Penny hated to watch this. She hated for Cruz to watch this. Her son continued to weep quietly, tears leaving tracks in the dust on his face.
Dirk lifted his boot up and grabbed Owen by the collar, dragging him toward the edge of the cliff. Shoving Owen’s head under the thin metal guardrail, Dirk crouched on top of him, pressing his knee between Owen’s shoulder blades. He gripped Owen’s short hair and touched the tip of the blade to his taut throat.
“No!” Penny wailed. She pummeled her fists against Shane’s arm to get free, but he wouldn’t budge.
“How tough will you feel, watching your blood spill out?”
“Not in front of Cruz,” Owen rasped.
“What did you say?” Dirk asked.
“Not in front of the boy. Please.”
Dirk deferred to Shane. “Do you want to finish this? If you’re not going to take care of business, I will.”
“Is that my brother’s kid?” Shane asked Penny.
Penny wasn’t sure how to respond. Anyone who could do basic math would know Cruz wasn’t Owen’s son. Shane must be an idiot.
He dug the barrel into her temple. “Is it?”
“Yes,” she sobbed. “Yes!”
“Cover his eyes,” Shane said, shoving her toward Cruz. She stumbled and fell down hard. Tears blurring her vision, she crawled to her son on her hands and knees. Her entire body quaked as she drew Cruz into her embrace. Turning him away from the carnage, she cradled his head to her chest and closed her hands over his ears.
The sound of a gunshot bounced off the walls of the gorge, making her jump. She felt it penetrate, straight through the heart.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
OWEN STARED AT the bottom of the gorge, his bile rising.
He was determined not to glance at Cruz or Penny. He didn’t want either of them to get hurt in a futile attempt to help him. Better to just take a deep breath, let his mind go blank and accept his fate. Hold steady. It would all be over soon.
Instead of cutting his throat, Dirk merely nicked him. Blood coursed over his Adam’s apple in a thin trickle. A couple of drops splashed on the rocks below. Owen heard Penny’s agonized sob as Shane shoved her aside.
His brother came forward. To kill him.
In his peripheral vision, he saw Penny crawling across the dirt, toward Cruz. She cowered at the mouth of the tunnel, protecting him with her body. Cruz was also crying. He didn’t appear to be badly injured. If the boy had been knocked unconscious, Owen would have gutted Dirk like a fish.
He wasn’t sure he’d made the right decision by dropping the knife. Sacrificing himself for Penny and Cruz was a no-brainer, but he didn’t want his life to end like this. Not at his brother’s hands. Not facedown and helpless, staring at his own blood.
Pebbles crunched under Shane’s boots as he approached. Owen smelled rust and sweat and cigarette-stinking fingers. The unpleasant odor reminded him of his father. He squeezed his eyes shut, holding the tears at bay.
How fucking stupid, to care about looking like a wimp before he got his head blown off. What insidious, asinine macho bullshit. Even at the cusp of death, his father’s words haunted him so much that he re
fused to beg and blubber.
Like it mattered. Would he rather be a corpse or a coward? If he had a choice, he’d take coward. It wasn’t as if he’d always stayed strong or held his head high. Some of the things he’d done in prison—well, he’d proved the old man right.
Shane stepped up to finish him. His brother didn’t mess around with big talk and intimidation, like Dirk. It was cold comfort, but Owen knew Shane wouldn’t savor this. He’d carry the guilt with him to the grave.
Owen flinched as the gun went off. The sound ricocheted throughout the canyon, oddly flat and lacking impact.
He hadn’t even felt the bullet.
Dirk let go of the knife and slumped forward, on top of him. Something warm and sloppy slid across the back of his neck, soaking the collar of his shirt. Owen opened his eyes, realizing he hadn’t been shot. Dirk had.
The scene was like a Picasso, difficult to process. He blinked a few times until his brain solved the gruesome puzzle. What was left of Dirk’s face rested right next to Owen’s. The top of his head was gone, his scalp hanging loose.
Owen recoiled in shock.
Shane shoved the corpse aside with his foot. It toppled over the edge, glancing off rocks and turning cartwheels before hitting the bottom of the gorge with a sickening thud. Owen rolled away from the guardrail and retched. A small amount of water and stomach acid came up, burning his throat.
Shane wrenched Owen’s arms behind his back and snapped cuffs on his wrists. Owen was too traumatized to struggle. He didn’t even understand what his brother wanted to do to him. Maybe Shane had another bullet with his name on it.
Shane picked up Roach’s knife and stuck the blade in his boot. Apparently his brother intended to go through with the money exchange and whatever else the plan called for. Shane might have chosen Owen’s life over Dirk’s, but he wasn’t giving up. Once he committed to a crime, he didn’t quit.
Owen dragged his gaze toward the entrance of the tunnel. His head throbbed from hanging off the edge, and his ears were ringing. The sun was too bright for his bleary eyes. Penny had her back to him. She appeared to be weeping.
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