Sure enough, his brother opened the door partway and stuck his head inside. Penny roused at the sound, blinking in confusion. When Shane saw her bare shoulders, he smirked. “Rise and shine, kids.”
“Can you unlock these?” Owen asked in a roughened voice, raising their cuffed wrists. “We can’t get dressed like this.”
Shane took the key out of his pocket and released Penny’s cuff, which was closer to him. Owen couldn’t stand up without exposing them both, so he stayed on the floor, waiting for Shane to shut the door again.
“Two minutes,” Shane said.
Owen kissed Penny’s forehead and rose, tugging on underwear. She watched, clutching the sheet to her breasts. Although her gaze wasn’t sexual, his body responded to it, unsatisfied by the fleeting pleasure of the previous night.
He grabbed his clothes, which were hanging over the shower door, and pulled them on. Not bothering to zip up his pants, he turned his back to her and lifted the toilet seat. Attempting to piss while half-hard was a familiar chore, made slightly more challenging by the handcuff dangling from his right wrist.
When he was finished, he flushed and washed his hands. She stood up, her body still wrapped in the sheet. With her tangled hair, lush mouth and honeyed skin, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
He was so in love with her, he could die.
The realization stunned him, even though it shouldn’t have. Something had shifted inside him the first moment he’d seen her. That feeling had grown over the years, but he hadn’t recognized it for what it was.
Last night, all of his fears had come true. He’d had a flashback and embarrassed himself. A lifetime’s worth of pent-up emotions had flooded out of him, unleashing tears and passion and a soul-deep love for Penny. He’d held it inside, buried with everything else.
Shane popped back in before Owen had a chance to say anything. He wasn’t ready to declare his affections, anyway. If the exchange went well, he could tell her afterward. If it didn’t...the less said, the better.
“Cuff your free hand,” Shane said. “Let’s go.”
Owen snapped it into place and followed his brother out the door, giving Penny some privacy. Shane had several snack items from their mother’s pantry on the bed. He sat down, tossing Owen a small bag of chips. Owen ripped open the bag and took a seat in the armchair across from Shane.
“What’s the plan?”
“We need another boat for Sandoval,” Shane said. “I know a guy who’ll rent me one.”
“You want to do the exchange on the water?”
“Yeah.”
It was smart. The Salton Sea was forty miles wide and offered infinite escape routes. “What was the original location?”
“Red Mountain Mine. I was going to grab the cash, enter the mine shaft, and get to the Jeep waiting on the side.”
Owen wasn’t sure why he’d decided against the mine idea. His crew was gone, and he hadn’t called for reinforcements. Maybe he didn’t want whoever was in charge to know how much of a disaster this kidnapping had become. But they’d find out soon enough and make Shane pay the ultimate price for his mistakes.
“Who’s your contact with the AB?” Owen asked.
“Don’t worry about it. He’s just a middleman.”
“Does he know I was in the gang?”
“No.”
“They’ll kill you after you deliver the money.”
Shane didn’t argue that.
“Why don’t you run now, while you have a chance?”
“I already told you. They’ll go after Jamie.”
“Since when do you care about Jamie?”
“Fuck you,” Shane said tiredly. Grabbing the empty bottle of whiskey by his pillow, he chucked it at the trash can—and missed. “I’ve always cared.”
Owen ate a handful of chips, skeptical.
“You think you’re some kind of role model father, is that it? Getting a tattoo of a kid’s name because you want a piece of the mother’s ass doesn’t make you a parent, dude.”
Owen’s temper flared. “I never said it did.”
“Then who are you to criticize?”
“I’ve been there for Jamie, more than you have. I’ve seen him more often. You weren’t even in his life before you went to prison.”
Shane rubbed his jaw, mouth twisting.
“You didn’t call or send letters from the joint, either.”
“Janelle wouldn’t take my calls.”
“For good reason.” Shane had been verbally abusive throughout their relationship. They’d argued constantly.
“I sent letters. Birthday cards, too.”
“He never got any.”
“I sent them,” he repeated.
Owen was surprised to hear this. Maybe Janelle had kept the cards or thrown them away in an attempt to protect Jamie from Shane’s negative influence. “You put him in danger when you agreed to this plot.”
“You put everyone in danger by playing hero,” he said, his voice rising. Typical Shane. He’d never taken responsibility for his actions when he was younger, either.
“Did you really expect me to go along with it?”
“Yes! You could have pretended to go along with it, like you did in prison. Instead you took on a group like Rambo.”
“What were you planning to do if I didn’t cooperate?”
“Not this,” he said.
“Obviously.”
“You were going to let Dirk kill me.”
“No. I said I’d do it myself, but I wouldn’t have. I didn’t care if you ratted on me. I’d planned on making a run for the border anyway.”
Owen massaged his eye sockets, saddened by his brother’s life choices. Shane was better off behind bars, where he couldn’t hurt anyone, including himself. He wouldn’t be able to stay out of trouble in Mexico.
“I should have known it would end up like this,” Shane said, bitter. “You’re such a fucking White Knight.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re the good one, the smart one, the noble one. Mom’s favorite. Dad’s favorite.”
“Dad’s favorite? Are you high?”
“He was proud of you.”
“For what, getting sent to prison?”
“For playing the hero during the earthquake, and again at that nature park.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“He was excited for you. The last time we spoke on the phone, he kept blabbing about how you were going to be a firefighter and save people.”
Owen shook his head, unable to fathom it. He couldn’t remember a single compliment his father had given him, other than a pat on the back after he’d rebuilt that Chevy. But the insults still rang in Owen’s ears. “He called me a faggot every day of my childhood. And a pussy.”
Shane laughed under his breath. “Guess he was wrong on both counts.”
“You were the strong one. He liked you.”
“He liked to hit me,” Shane corrected. “You got yelled at. I got beat up.”
“You made him mad on purpose.”
His brother fell silent, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.
“Why did you do that?” Owen asked.
“Why do you think?”
Owen had never questioned his brother’s motives for violence before. Shane just reacted, often without thinking. He was argumentative and impulsive. It hadn’t occurred to him that Shane might have provoked their father for altruistic reasons.
“You couldn’t handle the beatings,” Shane said. “You were too sensitive. So I took most of them for you.”
“No,” Owen said, his stomach clenching.
“When I was big enough, I stepped in for Mom, too. And when I was big enough to win, he stopped beating all of us.”
That was the truth. After Shane busted their father’s lip in an epic, bloody battle, the abuse had ended. Until both brothers went to prison. With them out of the way, Christian had picked up where he’d left off, and their mother had us
ed drugs to escape.
Owen finished his bag of chips, disturbed by the revelation. Shane might have protected him from some of their father’s abuse, but he’d also bullied Owen relentlessly. Their boyish scuffles hadn’t felt like abuse, though. They were just kids.
Shane passed Owen a soda, which he accepted with gratitude. Penny stayed in the bathroom, maybe brushing her teeth or trying to untangle her hair.
“How was she?” Shane asked.
“Shut up,” Owen said, flushing.
“I don’t know what a girl that good-looking sees in you.”
“I don’t, either.”
“Looks like you’ve been working out,” Shane said. “If you wear a bag over your head she might keep you around.”
Owen didn’t laugh at the lame joke. Pressure built behind his eyes, and he had to will the tears away. His brother hadn’t kidded around with him like this in almost a decade. Owen had a bad feeling that they wouldn’t do it again for ten more years.
Maybe never.
Penny came out of the bathroom a moment later, carrying his shoes. His mother’s faded dress looked nice on her. She’d tied her hair back with a strip of cloth. With a nervous glance at Shane, she handed Owen his shoes. Fresh socks were tucked inside.
“Thanks,” he said, wanting to kiss her. A real kiss, like he’d done last night.
“Have some breakfast,” Shane said.
She selected a snack bag and sat at the edge of the bed. Although she must have been starving, she nibbled slowly, as if each bite of junk food was a spoonful of medicine she had to force down.
“Your chef doesn’t serve chili-cheese chips, princess?”
“They’re stale.”
“Let me see.” Shane grabbed the chips away from her and shoved a few into his mouth. Grimacing, he reached for another bag. “Try these.”
She seemed to find the second snack edible.
“Did you sleep well?”
“Knock it off,” Owen said.
“I’m just making conversation.”
“You’re trying to embarrass her.”
His brows rose with mock surprise. “Does she have something to be embarrassed about?”
“I slept fine,” Penny said, ignoring Shane’s innuendo. “Knowing Cruz was safe helped. Thank you for that.”
Shane scowled at her polite response. After she finished the snack, they left the motel room. Owen took the passenger seat while Penny sat behind him in the back of the Jeep. They headed a few miles north, to the Salton Sea State Recreation Area. The maintained shoreline was a little cleaner and less bizarre looking than the ruins of Bombay Beach, but it was no crown jewel. Oxygen-deprived fish and diseased birds died here, just like everywhere else.
Shane met an old man at the boat launch facility, paying him a couple of twenties for the use of a small powerboat. As soon as the owner drove away, Shane left one of the walkie-talkies on the nearest the picnic table and called Sandoval.
“Tell him to come here alone with the money,” he ordered Penny.
She spoke into the receiver, giving the terse instructions. Shane hung up and flung the phone far out into the sea before turning to Owen. “Find a hiding place down the shore,” he said, handing him another walkie-talkie. “Watch him from a distance and make sure he follows my instructions.”
“Then what?”
“Then run like hell to Bombay Beach. How long will it take you?”
Owen figured it was about two miles as the crow flies. “Ten minutes.”
“We’ll be waiting for you.”
Owen didn’t want to leave Penny with Shane, but he had no choice. Shane unlocked the handcuffs, aware that he could control Owen through Penny. Owen shoved the radio into his pocket, glancing over his shoulder at her. She looked scared.
“Why don’t you kiss your girl goodbye?”
Owen tore his gaze away, his heart pounding. He refused to put on a show for his brother’s entertainment. “If you hurt her I’ll fucking kill you.”
Shane inclined his head, accepting those terms.
There was nothing he could say to change Shane’s mind. Owen felt powerless over the situation. With each second that ticked by, he became more convinced that everything would fall apart. He couldn’t stop the impending disaster. Shane was going to shoot someone or get shot. This plan had been doomed from the start.
With a sound of frustration, Owen opened the passenger door and exited the vehicle.
“Owen!”
He stared at Penny, his brother’s prisoner. She didn’t deserve to be traumatized this way. No woman did.
“Be careful,” she said, her eyes swimming with tears.
His throat closed up, so he just nodded. Shane stepped on the gas, leaving a cloud of pulverized fish bones in his wake. Owen had to walk down the shore for half a mile, searching for cover. Tilapia skulls from recent die-offs crunched beneath his shoes with every step. There were a few lonely palm trees along this stretch of the Salton Sea, but nothing else. No convenient hills or boulders to duck behind. The water was blue, and the shore was bleached white. Everything flat and still, as far as the eye could see.
The hiding place he found was just a dip in the ground, like a natural fort. Unfortunately, there was a murky orange puddle on the other side. Scientists said the color of the water reflected algae, not chemical pollution or human waste, but it looked nasty. He lowered himself into the lukewarm cesspool, watched the picnic table and waited.
His thoughts turned to Penny, to the night they’d shared. After his painful confession and humiliating crying jag, he’d felt pretty low. He’d wanted to stay strong for her, to protect her and comfort her. He’d let his guard down instead, sobbing like a baby, and she hadn’t seemed fazed. Upset and saddened, but not disgusted.
She’d still found him attractive. She’d kissed him and rubbed against him and begged him to touch her.
He’d studied her for signs of sincerity, wondering if she was throwing him a pity bone. The desire in her eyes seemed genuine, and her physical responses...God. She couldn’t fake being wet. He didn’t think she’d exaggerated the moans and gasps of pleasure. If anything, she’d been trying to stay quiet. Owen couldn’t believe how easy it had been to get her off, or how satisfied he’d felt after pleasing her. Twice.
He’d brought her to climax twice.
The fact that he’d come all over her from less than a minute of stimulation was a little embarrassing, but she hadn’t seemed to mind that, either. Maybe next time—if there was a next time—he could do her right. He wanted to kiss her for hours and get inside her, with his fingers and tongue and cock.
The stirrings of arousal made it difficult for him to concentrate on surveillance, so he focused on the present. This was no place for sexual fantasies. He was lying on his belly in a puddle of foul-smelling muck.
He’d be lucky to get out of this situation alive. There would be a media shit storm no matter what happened. Penny might not want to continue their relationship. He could face criminal charges.
Taking shallow breaths, he stared at the powerboat in the distance. It was docked and ready to go. The sun beat down with relentless heat, burning the back of his neck, his hairline, the tips of his ears.
Finally Jorge Sandoval arrived in his modified SUV. The windows were tinted, the body bulletproof. There could be six FBI agents crouched in the back.
“He’s here,” Owen said into the radio.
“Is he alone?”
Owen couldn’t tell. Sandoval got out of the driver’s seat, hefting a large duffel bag. “Looks like it.”
With cautious steps, Sandoval approached the picnic table. He found the walkie-talkie Shane had left there and lifted it. “Hello?”
“Do you have the money?” Shane asked.
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Two million, unmarked. Just like you said.”
“Take off your clothes and put them on the table. Leave everything there. Your keys, wallet, phone, cl
othes.”
Even from far away, Owen could read Sandoval’s reluctance. He was a former governor, for Christ’s sake. He didn’t want to strip naked in public. But he mumbled an affirmation and set the radio aside. With efficient motions, he kicked off his shiny shoes, unbuttoned his shirt and removed his expensive trousers. When he was standing in socks and boxer shorts, he picked up the radio again. “Now what?”
“Did he do it?” Shane asked Owen.
“Yes.”
“Get in the boat and go south. Bring the money and the radio. I’ll give you the exact coordinates in a minute.”
Sandoval climbed into the powerboat with the duffel bag. The keys were in the ignition. He started it and drove away from the launch area, as instructed. Owen stared at the SUV on the shore, detecting no movement. Maybe Sandoval really had come alone. Maybe he hadn’t contacted the authorities at all.
It seemed impossible. More likely, there was an entire task force nearby, and they were a lot better at hiding than he was.
Owen got up and started running, heedless of being followed. If police officers or members of Sandoval’s security team were in the SUV, they might see him, but they couldn’t catch him. He was fast.
Shane was waiting for him with Penny at the ruins of the yacht club, where he’d hidden their dad’s boat. They’d ducked behind the crumbling concrete wall. Penny’s mouth was tense, her face pinched with fear.
“Did you see any cops?” Shane asked.
“No,” Owen said. “Where’s the Jeep?”
Shane ignored the question. “Help me with the trailer.”
Together, they pushed it into the water. Then Shane pulled the gun from his waistband. Not pointing it at him, just holding it. “Give me the walkie-talkie.”
Owen gave it to him.
He tossed it into the boat. “Now cuff yourself to the trailer.”
Owen glanced down, noting that one of the handcuffs was already attached to the front end. The other hung loose, ready for him to snap it on his wrist. Shane wanted to make him stay here on the shore. “No.”
Shane grabbed Penny by the crook of the arm and jammed the barrel against her ribs. “Do it.”
“You’re not going to shoot her before the exchange.”
“I won’t kill her,” Shane countered.
“You said you wouldn’t hurt her.”
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