“I’m bored,” Cruz said.
“You don’t like this cave?”
“I want to see the rest of it.”
“I bet there are bats.”
His brown eyes lit up with curiosity. He had clay dust in his hair and on his lashes, giving him an angelic look. “Where?”
Penny was about to answer when she heard a man calling her name. He sounded frantic. He sounded like...Owen.
Cruz tried to respond, but she clapped her palm over his mouth. This might be a trick to draw them out. She also didn’t trust her ears. She’d seen Owen’s lifeless body. Heart racing, she stared at the narrow entrance, half expecting a zombie hand to reach through.
“Penny,” he shouted, closer now. “Cruz?”
She released her grip on Cruz, trembling with emotion. “Owen?”
“Where are you?”
“Over here!” She scrambled toward the opening and stuck her arm out, waving to get his attention.
Then he was right there with her. The hand that clasped hers wasn’t ghostly pale or black-veined. It was dirty and strong and vibrant. His skin was lightly tanned, not quite as dark as hers or Cruz’s. She wept at the sight and feel of him.
He was alive! She didn’t care how. He was alive.
Owen couldn’t fit through the narrow space, so she climbed out to greet him. With a strangled sob, she threw her arms around his neck. His stiff shoulders betrayed his discomfort; he’d always reacted strangely to touch.
Penny had been friends with Owen since he’d gotten out of prison. She’d stayed in contact with all of the earthquake survivors. They exchanged emails and shared Facebook photos. She’d taken Cruz to visit Owen a few times in Sierra National Park. The three of them had a special connection. He seemed to enjoy their company as much as they enjoyed his. Penny cherished every moment with him.
Over the years, Owen had gained confidence. He no longer flinched at a simple handshake, but he still avoided overt displays of affection. She didn’t think he was repulsed by the feel of her body against his. There was something else going on.
His behavior reminded her of an incident from her childhood. Their dog, Blanca, had run away on a rainy day, only to be captured and returned by a neighbor. Her mother had tried to thank the man with a hug, but he’d been wet and dirty, too polite to soil her clothes.
That was Owen, to a T.
She knew he’d had a dysfunctional home life. She knew he’d done things he regretted, in and out of prison. Maybe her father had told him, in no uncertain terms, that he wasn’t good enough for her.
“I thought you were dead,” she said, for his ears only.
“Shh,” he said, patting her hair. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
When Cruz joined them, she released Owen, wiping the tears from her cheeks. He hugged her son with ease, proving his self-consciousness was reserved for grown-ups. Perhaps her, in particular.
A groan emitted from the shadows behind Owen. She froze, peering into the dark. He turned and directed his flashlight toward the sound. She could only guess that he’d harmed someone in order to break free.
“We have to go now,” Owen said.
She gathered her vest and water, following as he led them back to the main tunnel. Owen took Cruz by the hand and skirted him around a prone figure on the ground. It was a semiconscious man, his face splattered with blood.
“Who’s that?” Cruz asked.
“A bad guy,” Owen replied.
“Did you hit him?”
“Yes.”
“You must hit hard.”
Penny hurried past him, cringing. They headed into the deep recesses of the cave, traveling a serpentine path.
“Is there another way out?” Owen asked.
She thought he knew where he was going. “I didn’t check.”
He stopped, considering. “They’re going to come looking for that guy. If we don’t find an exit soon, we’ll return to your safe spot.”
“You can’t fit there.”
“That’s okay,” he said, showing her the gun he had tucked into his waistband.
Penny stared at the weapon in dismay. She felt faint, as if she might forget to breathe and pass out from fear. Five minutes ago, she’d thought Owen was gone for good. Now they were together, but they weren’t safe. The idea of him getting into a shoot-out and dying for them made her chest ache.
“Don’t risk your life again,” she whispered. “If it comes to that, surrender.”
He nodded his agreement. Then he continued forward, into the dark.
* * *
AROUND THE NEXT CORNER, natural light beckoned.
The tunnel emptied into a large room with an opening at one end. It was exactly what Owen had been hoping for. Scrambling toward the narrow passageway, he got down on his hands and knees, ducking his head out. The area was deserted. They were on the opposite side of the mud cave, nowhere near the other entrance. A steep slope downhill could pose a challenge for Penny and Cruz, but it wasn’t impossible. He’d sooner navigate rocky, crumbling terrain than tangle with members of Shane’s crew.
“How does it look?” Penny asked.
“Like freedom,” he said, straightening.
He was embarrassed by his reaction to Penny’s earlier embrace, and by the tears that clogged his throat now. It had always been this way with her. Even casual hugs from friends made him uneasy, but he could handle it. He couldn’t handle his feelings for her. They were too intense, too threatening to his self-control. Whenever she got close to him, he felt as if he was on the edge of something, ready to fall over. Her touch affected him on a deeper level, reaching the places he was afraid to access.
Instead of urging Penny and Cruz through the opening, he hesitated. They might be spotted as they fled the area. He needed to buy them a little more time. “I have to create a diversion so we can get away without being followed.”
Penny gave him a curious look. Her eye makeup from last night was smudged, her pretty face streaked with dirt. “How?”
He had an idea, but he couldn’t explain it with Cruz listening. So he gave her a watered-down version. “I’ll shoot a hole in the tunnel. While the guys come in to see what happened, we’ll climb out.”
“Okay,” she said.
“Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
She nodded, her mouth trembling. He didn’t think she suspected what he really planned to do, but he avoided her gaze as he left the cavern. Heart racing, he returned to the place Brett had fallen. He was conscious now, sitting up with his back to the wall. Owen couldn’t decide if that made his task easier or harder. He’d already broken the guy’s nose. Now he was really going to jack him up.
He took the weapon from his waistband. It was loaded and ready; he’d checked. Raising the gun, he assumed a ready stance. The flashlight in his left hand supported his right.
Brett cowered against the cave wall, trying to scoot backward. “No,” he cried, his voice muffled by the hand cupped over his face. “Don’t, please!”
Owen took aim and pulled the trigger, shooting him in the foot. If he’d waited another second, he might have lost his nerve. It was probably the most difficult, most horrific thing he’d ever done—and he’d done a lot of shitty things.
Brett screamed at