Shane shouted into the radio, demanding answers.
Owen engaged the safety and tucked the gun into his waistband. It sizzled against the small of his back. The burn wasn’t worth wincing at, under the circumstances. His stomach lurched suddenly. He stopped in the middle of the tunnel and retched, emptying its meager contents. After his nausea abated, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and continued down the corridor on wobbly legs. This wasn’t the first time he’d shot a man. It was the first time he’d shot a defenseless man, and the difference wrecked him.
“We haven’t found another way in,” Dirk said to Shane on the radio. “Do you want us to come back to where you are?”
“Yes,” Shane growled. “Fuck!”
Owen turned down the volume on the radio. His risk had paid off, but he felt no triumph. When he reentered the cavern, Penny flinched. Her arms were wrapped around Cruz, her hands covering his ears. She seemed reluctant to let go, which was understandable. Brett’s hoarse cries faded into the background as Owen came forward.
He wondered how he looked to her. Like a monster, not a hero.
Owen felt disconnected from reality, as if studying the scene from above. He didn’t want to be the kind of person who shot a man as a strategy, instead of in self-defense, but here he was. He just wished Penny and Cruz didn’t have to witness it.
“You climb out first,” he said to Penny. “Cruz can go next.”
She edged closer to the opening, kissing Cruz on the top of the head.
“Wait for us right outside,” Owen said.
“Be careful, Mommy.”
She had to get down on her hands and knees to pass through the narrow space. Her skirt impeded her progress, so she hiked it up to her waist. He watched her crawl forward, his pulse jackknifing. It was an incredibly inappropriate moment to ogle her. They were still in danger. He’d shot an unarmed man two minutes ago. Even so, his mind wasn’t so detached from his body that he failed to admire her perfect backside, framed by lacy black panties. His libido was like the heat of the muzzle—irrelevant, but undeniable. Seeing her in this position appealed to the animal in him. He couldn’t have averted his gaze if he’d tried.
When she reached daylight, she sat up and glanced around carefully before signaling for them to join her. Cruz climbed out next, followed by Owen. The path along the side of the hill looked much steeper from here.
“Don’t stand up,” he said to Penny. “Crouch down and slide on your butt if you have to. I’ll take Cruz.”
She did what he said, her movements clumsy. He winced as she half slid, half scrambled down the slope, probably scraping her hands and bruising her bottom in the process. But she reached the ground safely.
“Ready?” he asked Cruz.
The boy looked up at him with huge brown eyes. “I’m scared.”
“I won’t let you fall.”
Cruz clung to his neck, trembling with fear. He made short work of the climb. Penny watched them descend, her face tense. She took Cruz away from Owen at the first opportunity. Making a strangled sound, she cradled her son to her chest.
He studied the hole they’d climbed out of, raking a hand through his dusty hair. Although he didn’t want to push Penny too hard, they couldn’t afford to delay. Brett’s injury would create problems for Shane and his ragtag crew, but that didn’t mean their ordeal was over. Someone would come after them.
“Let’s go,” he said to Penny as gently as possible.
She set Cruz on his feet and trudged forward, her shoulders trembling. She knew what he’d done to Brett. He’d exposed her to his true nature. She’d seen the ugliness inside him, the savagery he’d always tried to hide. He’d been raised this way. Infected with dysfunction, hardened by circumstances. He couldn’t shed his criminal past. He was the kind of person who got off on the sight of a crawling woman. He’d just committed a stunning act of violence. There was no going back now.
He wasn’t one of the kidnappers, but he wasn’t one of the good guys, either.
CHAPTER SIX
“WHAT THE FUCK is going on in there?”
Shane released the talk button, listening for a response from Brett. Still nothing. Jesus. When he’d told Brett to shoot Owen in the foot, he’d been bluffing! He never thought Brett would actually do it. He’d just wanted to ensure Owen’s cooperation. Maybe Brett had gotten trigger-happy. He was young and green and eager.
Shane didn’t want to wait for Dirk and Roach to return to the entrance. “I’m heading inside,” he said to Dirk on the radio. He turned on his flashlight and made his way through the narrow passageway, taking care not to bump his head or scrape his elbows. He could barely fit through the tight squeezes.
He should have taken Owen through the tunnel instead of Brett. Shane didn’t trust Dirk—he was an arrogant bastard. Shane didn’t trust himself, either. He couldn’t shoot a family member. Owen clearly had feelings for this girl and her kid, which complicated the situation. Putting a gun to his brother’s head had made Shane’s flesh crawl as if a thousand centipedes had walked over his skin.
He hoped Owen wasn’t dead. Their mother would be devastated. She already thought Shane was responsible for ruining her life and for messing up Owen’s. She’d been a shell of a person since they’d both gone to prison.
Fuck.
He couldn’t get Brett to answer on the walkie-talkie, so he gave up and used a loud voice, calling out his name every few minutes. When Shane reached a fork in the path, he paused, pointing the beam of his flashlight in both directions. There was a dark, wet trail on the right, along with the telltale drag marks of a person with an injured limb.
Heart racing, Shane drew his gun from the back of his pants. “Owen!”
“Over here,” Brett shouted.
Shane stepped around the soaked dirt and continued through the tunnel. Brett was around the corner, sitting with his back to the wall. His face was smeared with blood and dust. He’d removed his white T-shirt and tied it around his boot. The effect was cartoonish, like a giant bandaged foot.
“Where are they?” Shane asked.
Brett pointed into the dark. “I think they went that way.”
“How far?”
“I don’t know.”
Shane stared down the twisted passage in disbelief. “I told you to shoot him in the foot,” he said, even though he hadn’t meant it. “Not yourself!”
“He shot me,” Brett mumbled.
“What?”
“He took the gun and knocked me out. Then he came back and shot me.”
No wonder Brett’s face was mangled. On second glance, his nose appeared to be broken.
The radio at his belt sounded. “We’re at the front of the cave,” Dirk said. “Do you want us to come in?”
Shane didn’t answer right away. He squinted at Brett, weighing his options. The shirt wrapped around his boot was soaked with blood. Shane didn’t think he’d die in the next few hours, but he needed immediate medical treatment, and they were out in the middle of nowhere. Driving him to the emergency room would take all day. More importantly, hospitals reported gunshot wounds. His contact, Ace, would probably tell him to eliminate this problem right here, rather than risking capture.
Brett wasn’t so naive that he couldn’t see the wheels turning in Shane’s mind.