Explaining the second shot to Dirk would have been tricky, also.
“Yeah, come in,” Shane said into the radio. “We’re on the right side.”
Brett slumped against the dirt wall, relieved.
“How did he take your gun?”
“I don’t know. He just...attacked me.”
“Did you try to shoot him?”
“I didn’t get the chance.”
“You had the flashlight,” Shane explained. “He was in front of you.”
“He said something about bats,” Brett said, panting. His forehead was dotted with sweat. “I looked up for a second.”
Shane stared at his misshapen nose, wanting to break it again. Every minute that ticked by gave Owen and that Spanish cunt a greater opportunity to escape. He wondered if his brother had lied to him about their relationship. They acted like a couple, and he had her son’s name tattooed on his chest. What kind of sucker did that for a girl he wasn’t even dating? Why get a tribute for a kid who wasn’t his?
By the time Dirk and Roach reached them, Shane was seething. He’d been pissed at Gardener for dropping the ball, but confident that a woman with a child wouldn’t get far. Now they had Owen’s help. The three of them might leave this cave and walk all the way back to civilization.
Shane felt the situation slipping from his hands. These idiots were going to ruin everything, and the stakes were too high for him to back out. He owed the Aryan Brotherhood more money than he could ever pay. If he skipped town, they might threaten his family. It was a matter of honor, if nothing else.
Dirk went nuts when he saw Brett. He paced back and forth, plotting revenge on Owen. “I’ll kill him,” he repeated, baring his teeth. “When I find him, I’ll cut off his head and piss on his neck.”
“Shut up,” Shane said wearily.
“I’ll do his bitch, too. I’ll do her right in front of him.”
Shane fisted his hand in Dirk’s shirt. “You won’t do a goddamned thing unless I say so. Got that?”
Dirk didn’t agree, but he didn’t argue, either.
Shane let him go. “Stay here while Roach and I check the rest of the cave.”
He sat down beside Brett, his nostrils flaring. Shane crept down the passageway with his gun drawn. They came to a large room with an opening to the outside. Cursing, he bent down and looked through the hole.
There was no sign of them.
As Shane straightened, the implications of Owen’s actions began to sink in. His little brother had a gun. He knew the badlands as well as Shane did, if not better. Owen could survive out here. He could hide.
That wasn’t Shane’s only challenge. He’d planned to recapture this bitch and her brat before checking in with Ace. Now Shane had to deliver the bad news. He’d lost his quarry, and he had an injured man to deal with.
He turned to Roach, his eyes narrow. “Find their trail and follow it. We can’t afford to let them get away.”
“What do I do if I see them?”
“Keep your distance. Watch them until we come back.”
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Roach left the cavern, armed with a jug of water and a walkie-talkie. Shane went back down the tunnel to rejoin Dirk and Brett. “They’re gone,” he said, clenching his hand into a fist. “Let’s get him out of here.”
Dirk helped Brett stand up and supported him on one side as they limped away. The return trip to the SUV took forever. Brett might have been prepared to face death like a man, but he handled a gunshot wound like a total pussy. He moaned every time his boot dragged along the ground. Dirk had to lift him up and carry him the last half mile.
Shane didn’t slow down or offer to help. When they reached the SUV, Dirk loaded him into the backseat, elevating the injured foot. It was still bleeding.
“Should I take off his boot?” Dirk asked.
“Hell if I know.”
“Don’t touch it,” Brett wailed.
Dirk removed the soaked T-shirt, to Brett’s dismay. He had a small hole in the top of his boot and a slightly larger one in the sole.
“It went in and out,” Shane said.
Brett grimaced. “Is that good?”
“It’s better than ricocheting around in there, shattering bones.”
Dirk wrapped another shirt around Brett’s boot and gave him a bottle of whiskey, which he sucked on like a tit. “He needs to go to the hospital.”
“Let’s go,” Shane said, annoyed.
He got behind the wheel of the SUV while Dirk climbed into the back with his brother. Brett made a sound of agony every time Shane went over a bump. He turned the radio up to drown out his whimpers.
Back at camp, he slowed down to talk to Gardener, another useless wretch. He was sitting in the shade, smoking a joint.
“Get in,” Shane said.
Gardener blinked at him stupidly. “I just started this.”
“Bring it.”
As soon as he got in the passenger seat, Shane took the joint away, bringing it to his lips and inhaling deeply. He was going to smoke the rest without sharing, but then the mellow mood hit him and he handed it back.
“What happened?” Gardener asked.
“Brett got shot.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
They followed the road to the highway. It was a long drive, so long that they were sober again by the time they arrived. Brett hadn’t lost consciousness, and his color looked better. Shane was glad; he didn’t want to go to all this trouble for a goner.
While he drove, he tried to plan what he would say to the boss. Ace was really just a middleman, a connection between Shane and his unknown clients. Shane knew they were affiliated with the AB, but he’d never met any of them. He didn’t want to meet them. He just wanted to do the job and get the hell out of Dodge.
Before he bit the bullet and called Ace, he took Owen’s phone from his pocket, scrolling through his list of contacts.
Janelle was there. Owen had her home number and her cell phone number, unlike Shane. She refused any communication from him, even letters. She told him that he had to apply for visitation rights if he wanted to see Jamie.
Shane knew Janelle was friendly with Owen, but he’d never envied their relationship. Probably because he’d held an outdated view of his little brother, like an old picture he hadn’t bothered to replace. Owen was a man now. The better man, according to Janelle. The man who was allowed to visit Jamie.
Shane dialed her number on his throwaway cell. She picked up right away, her voice raspy from sleep. The sound hit him like a main-line rush. She wouldn’t have answered if she’d known it was him. They hadn’t shared an uncontentious conversation in years. Shane wished he could ask to speak to his son.
Instead, he shoved the phone at Gardener. “Tell her to take Jamie and go to her mother’s house. Stay there for a few days.”
Gardener repeated this message.
Shane listened as Janelle’s tone turned shrill. She demanded answers and issued threats.