LITMIR.BIZ

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inspected the blue-green material and turned to Owen. “Call out to her.”

      Although his body still ached from last night, he hesitated. He’d take another beating before he betrayed Penny.

      His brother drew the 9 mm from his waistband and pressed it to Owen’s cheek. This wasn’t up for discussion. “Do it.”

      “Penny,” he shouted, his voice hoarse with anger. Most of it was directed at Shane but some bled inward. He’d been warring with these feelings his entire life. This sick, dysfunctional mixture of love and hate. As much as Owen loathed his father, he’d also sought his approval in many ways. He’d learned welding, his father’s trade, to earn a rare pat on the back. He hadn’t wanted to be like his father, but he’d wanted be liked by him.

      That desire had never quite faded.

      He was furious with Shane for picking up where their dad had left off, and with himself for being unable to break this vicious cycle.

      Penny didn’t answer his call. She might not be able to hear him. She might not even be inside the cave anymore. Some tunnels went on for miles and offered multiple escape routes. Others were dead ends.

      Shane returned his gun to his waistband, his eyes moving from Dirk to Brett. They were brothers, too, Owen realized. The younger, smaller Brett was a criminal-in-training.

      “Give Brett your piece,” Shane said to Dirk.

      “What for?”

      “I’m sending him in. They might be hiding in a narrow space. He’ll fit through the tight spots easier than you.”

      Dirk handed his weapon to Brett, seeming to be disappointed. He wanted to hunt down Penny and terrorize her himself. “How will he get her out?”

      Shane sucked on his lip, thinking. “Owen, you go first. Make her come to you.”

      “And if she won’t?” Brett asked.

      “Tell her you’re going to shoot Owen in the head.”

      Brett’s mouth went slack. He wasn’t as hardened as Dirk, or as macho. “O-okay.”

      “If she still doesn’t come out, shoot him in the foot,” Shane conceded. The guy who’d pulled his punches last night was gone, replaced by the cold-eyed sociopath who’d choked Owen into submission. His brother was good at intimidating people, staying in control. He could flip the switch between charming and cruel in an instant. Penny’s actions had challenged his authority—and this was payback.

      Dirk smiled at Owen, enjoying the tension.

      “You two, walk around the perimeter,” Shane said to Roach and Dirk. “If you find another entrance, guard it. I’ll stay here.”

      They followed his instructions, leaving the mouth of the cave. Brett trained the gun on Owen while Shane removed his cuffs. Owen needed free hands to navigate in the dark. Between the twisted tunnels, armed escort and men blocking the exits, he’d be a fool to try running away. Or so they thought.

      Owen rubbed his chafed wrists, his blood pumping with adrenaline. He wasn’t going to let an amateur like Brett shoot him in the foot. He’d take advantage of any opportunity to escape. He’d create an opening if he had to.

      Shane had brought supplies from the SUV’s glove compartment. They had walkie-talkies and flashlights. Brett clipped the walkie-talkie to his waist and held a mini-flashlight in his teeth, gesturing for Owen to precede him. The setup wasn’t ideal. Owen’s shoulders kept blocking the beam of light. Brett wasn’t stupid enough to let him hold the flashlight, so Owen crouched as low as possible, picking his way forward.

      He was comfortable in this kind of setting. Dark, confined spaces didn’t bother him, even after his experience in the earthquake. Neither did heat, usually. During his firefighter training, he’d endured both better than most students. He’d grown up near the badlands, in Salton City. High temperatures and harsh conditions just reminded him of home.

      They came to a fork in the tunnel. Owen stopped and listened, detecting the faintest hint of wind. He couldn’t wait any longer. If they reached the end of the cave before he had a chance to strike, all would be lost.

      “Bats,” he shouted at the top of his lungs, flapping his arms around.

      Brett looked up at the ceiling of the tunnel, where there were bats. Sleeping bats, tucked up and motionless.

      Owen seized the moment of distraction. He grabbed Brett’s right wrist and slammed it against the cave wall, knocking the gun loose from his grip. It clattered to the floor, along with the flashlight from Brett’s surprised mouth. Owen couldn’t see his face, but he didn’t need to. He drew back his arm and punched Brett in the stomach with full force. The air rushed out of him in an audible whoosh.

      Brett doubled over, as men who’d been gut-checked often did. Owen grabbed Brett’s head and brought it down on his raised knee, crushing the small bones and cartilage in his nose. The blow was delivered with enough force to knock him out, apparently. He slumped to the ground, unconscious.

      Owen scrambled for the gun and flashlight. He also took Brett’s walkie-talkie. Then he crept forward, his heart hammering against his chest. “Penny?” he called out, unsure which direction to take.

      He had no idea how they would get out of this. His actions might have saved them or sealed their doom.

      * * *

      PENNY JOLTED AWAKE with a start.

      She’d had a dream about Owen. He’d been calling out to her in the dark, crawling through the earthquake wreckage, searching vehicles full of dead bodies. She was pregnant again, sitting in the passenger seat of her aunt’s car. Not trapped under the freeway, as she had been, but among the victims in the massive pileup outside. Owen had found her and reached inside. His grasping hand was blue-tinged, his forearm ropey with black veins.

      Shivering, she cleared her mind of the disturbing image.

      Cruz was about ten feet away from her, carving designs on the wall with a sharp stick. It was hard-packed clay, not crumbly, but it had a fine, siltlike surface. The powdery substance clung to her dress and skin. Cruz looked like he’d taken a bath in it. He was singing songs under his breath, not being quiet at all.

      “Shh,” she told him, straightening. “Did you hear anything?”

      “No.”

      “Come here.”

      He dropped the stick with reluctance and returned to her side. The light coming from the hole in the ceiling seemed a little brighter. She took a sip of water, doubting she’d slept more than an hour. “How long was I asleep?”

      “I don’t know.” He had no sense of time. Five minutes was an eternity to him.

      She put her arm around him and listened, her pulse still pounding from the nightmare. Although she was exhausted, she couldn’t believe she’d drifted off. She’d been quaking with tension and sorrow, tortured by the thought of Owen dying.

      Catastrophic events made some people stronger. Owen had been a hero during the earthquake. He’d emerged from prison a reformed man. At his national park job, he’d proven himself again by rushing to help a female ranger in trouble. These experiences had inspired him to pursue a career in rescue work. He was naturally courageous.

      Penny wasn’t.

      She’d had the opposite reaction to trauma, retreating from any hint of danger. Playing it safe was more her style. She didn’t know how she’d drummed up the nerve to hit a man over the head with a rock. If not for the blood under her fingernails, she’d have suspected the episode was just another bad dream.

      “I’m hungry,” Cruz whispered.

      Penny gave him a drink of water. It was the only thing she had.

      “When can we leave?”

      “Soon.”

      “What

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