CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
JEB MUST HAVE TAKEN A CUE from Garrett and hidden in the dead pile.
Bits of rotten flesh clung to his hair and clothes. Dark smears marred his weathered face. There were maggots...ugh. Maggots squirming in the grime, dropping off his shoulders. The stench was atrocious.
Lauren turned to run, screaming at the top of her lungs.
Mickey rose from the prone position, blocking her escape route by throwing his big arms around her waist. She struggled to break free, kicking wildly, but he held tight. Jeb limped forward like a zombie, dragging one leg behind him.
Grinning, he pointed his gun at her head.
Lauren stopped fighting. Mickey panted against her ear, making her gag with his fetid breath. Although his stomach was soft and doughy against her back, the arm locked around her waist felt very strong. His grip was impenetrable.
Jeb loped closer, raining maggots on his gore-stained boots. She tried not to inhale as he aligned his face with hers.
When he brought the barrel to her temple, she cringed in terror. Pulse pounding, she held her breath and waited for him to shoot her.
Was this the end?
Lauren didn’t want to go like this. She had unfinished business with Garrett. There were issues to resolve. Her father had died without any last words, without tearful goodbyes or heartfelt explanations. So much had been left unsaid. It wasn’t fair! She refused to let Jeb take her life before she’d decided her future.
Jeb’s dark eyes glittered with malice as he pressed the metal into her skull. “Boom,” he whispered.
Mickey laughed like a loon, his chest rising against her back, chains scraping across the trunk of the car. Unable to go without oxygen any longer, she inhaled sharply, choking on the thick odor of decomposition.
Garrett appeared on the other side of the car. He moved warily, with his hands raised to show he was unarmed. He spared one glance for Lauren. Their eyes connected for a split second, communicating a wealth of emotion.
She understood then that he’d die for her.
Smothering a sob, she cursed herself for doubting him. Garrett hadn’t lost his temper and strangled Mickey. If she’d trusted him and talked things out, instead of avoiding her feelings, she wouldn’t be in this predicament.
“What do you want?” Garrett asked Jeb.
“The key,” he replied.
Garrett had been carrying the key to Mickey’s padlock in his front pocket. She didn’t know if he still had it on him. She also wasn’t sure why Jeb would bother to free Mickey. Maybe he needed his help to climb the escape ladder.
“Let her go and I’ll give it to you,” Garrett said.
“Are we negotiating?” Jeb asked Mickey. “I wasn’t aware we were negotiating.”
“We ain’t negotiating, f*ckface,” Mickey clarified. “Just give us the key.”
Lauren’s chest tightened with panic. “Don’t do it,” she said, her eyes wide. “He’ll kill you as soon as you do.”
Garrett kept his focus on Jeb. “I’ll give you the key when you let her go.”
“F*ck you,” Jeb said, digging the barrel against her temple. “Hand me the f*cking key, and move real slow, or I’ll waste her right now. Then, after I wipe her brains off my trigger finger, I’ll shoot you.”
His jaw clenched at the threat. Garrett didn’t like it, but he complied. Taking the key from his pocket, he placed it on the top of the car.
Jeb fisted a hand in her hair, keeping the gun at her head. “Get it,” he said to Mickey.
Mickey removed his arm from Lauren’s waist and fumbled for the key. Garrett couldn’t do anything to stop them. He stared at Jeb, and Jeb stared back at him as Mickey picked up the key and unlocked himself.
When Mickey was free, he sighed with relief, rubbing his chafed neck.
Jeb didn’t ease his grip on Lauren’s hair. “We’re going up the ladder,” he told Garrett. “You stay back and don’t interfere. She’s climbing out first, then me, and then Mickey. If you cooperate, I won’t kill her.”
“No,” she pleaded, her mind racing. She couldn’t let Jeb and Mickey take her to another location. Once they were outside, she’d be useless to them. She didn’t fool herself into believing this would end well.
They’d rape her and leave her for dead.
“Oh yes,” Jeb said, smiling at Garrett. He moved the barrel from her temple to her cheek, brushing it over her trembling lips. “You climb with us, and keep that pretty mouth shut, or I’ll shoot everyone down here before we go.”
Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes as he pushed her forward, releasing her hair. Mickey grasped her upper arm and directed her toward the rope ladder. Jeb limped along behind them, his gun raised.
Garrett moved around the car as they passed, shielding his body with the vehicle. He didn’t trust Jeb not to take a shot at him.
Lauren wanted to scream for Garrett to help her. She wanted to scream at him to duck down before Jeb opened fire. She didn’t know what to do. If she put up a fight, Garrett would try to save her, and they’d both die.
Her progress was impeded by her muddled thoughts. The fact that she was looking back at Garrett instead of watching where she was going didn’t help. She stumbled and fell to her knees, crying out.
Mickey jerked her upright, shoving her the last few feet.
“Climb,” Jeb said when they got to the rope ladder.
Garrett didn’t attempt to follow. He stayed behind the car and watched from a safe distance.
Lauren hesitated, moistening her lips. She was afraid of heights, but she didn’t want to show any fear. When they reached the top, Jeb might use it against her. She could imagine him throwing her over the side of the structure.
“Go,” Jeb shouted over his shoulder. Mickey held the ladder while Jeb kept his weapon ready, searching the shadows.
She grasped the rope with both hands and put her foot in the first rung. It wasn’t easy to navigate because the ladder wouldn’t stay still. Mickey did his best to steady the swaying motion as she ascended the first two steps.
Lauren went as slowly as possible, buying time.
“Move your sweet ass!” Jeb prodded her buttocks with his gun.
For the next few minutes, she focused on ascending the ladder, step by step. Owen had worn a harness when he’d made the climb; Lauren didn’t have that luxury. If she fell, that was it. She’d prefer cracking her head open to whatever horrors Jeb had in store, but she had no choice. She couldn’t risk the lives of anyone else.
So she cooperated, making steady progress.
When she reached the top, she held on tight and didn’t look down. Her head was spinning from vertigo.
Swallowing hard, she studied the narrow crevice above her. How could she get through? Letting go of the ladder was unfathomable. Her arms were already shaking from exertion, the muscles straining in protest. She’d have to use what was left of her upper-body strength to pull herself up and out.
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and tried to channel Dune. She must not fear. Fear was the mind-killer. She’d let it pass over her and through her.
Before she could chicken out, she ascended another step, her pulse skyrocketing. Letting go of the rope with one hand, she gripped the edge of the crevice, pressing her cheek against the concrete.
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
With a strangled sound of terror, she let go with the other hand and straightened her legs, surging forward. When she stuck her head through the crack, sunlight singed her eyes, disorienting her.
Panting, she rested her stomach on the crevice, half in, half out.
Another problem arose. What was going to keep her from falling down outside? The collapsed walls were steep, inviting a plunge to the death.
“Move, bitch!”
Jeb started shaking the end of the ladder, trying to hurry her along.
Lauren felt the top rungs slap against her thighs, almost dislodging her from her perch. She reached for the rope Owen had used to descend the outside of the structure. When she had a tight grip on it, she forced the rest of her body through the space.
Gasping for breath, she rolled onto her belly and peered down into the crevice.
“Stay right there,” Jeb warned. “If you run, I’ll kill everybody down here.”
While she watched, Jeb and Mickey argued over the ladder. Then they argued over the gun. Jeb won on both counts. Shoving the barrel in his waistband, he told Mickey to hold the f*cking ladder and shut the f*ck up.
She could only stare, heart in her throat, as he began to climb.
* * *
PENNY HEARD LAUREN scream from inside the RV.
Motioning for Cadence to stay with Cruz, she opened the door. Garrett was there, his eyes dark with fear.
“Get on the radio,” he said quietly. “Go now, before they see you!”
Penny slipped outside and hurried toward the semi, her blood pumping with adrenaline. She climbed into the front seat and picked up the CB. In her other calls for assistance, she hadn’t mentioned her father. She’d been prepared to use his name if someone answered, but stopped short of saying it on the open airwaves.
At this point, her secret pregnancy didn’t matter. His public image didn’t matter. They needed help and she’d try to get it, using whatever means necessary.
“This is Penny Sandoval, daughter of Jorge Sandoval,” she said into the receiver. “The mayor of Los Angeles,” she added, moistening her lips. “I’m trapped with a group of people in a freeway collapse at the 8 and 163 interchange. Please respond. We desperately need help.” She wasn’t sure what was happening outside, because she couldn’t see Lauren and Garrett, but she figured it was serious. “We need an ambulance and...police officers. There are escaped convicts down here with us. They have a gun.”
She ended the broadcast, fighting tears of anxiety. Her father’s money and influence could gain them a quicker rescue. She should have used his name from the start. It hadn’t occurred to her that he might be looking for her. He was probably worried sick, as Lauren had said. Penny had been so focused on the baby, and the outrage she felt over being sent away, that she hadn’t considered his side.
Her parents were wrong, but they loved her. And she missed them.
Sniffling, she continued to search for a live voice on multiple channels. Mickey and Lauren passed by with Jeb on their heels, pointing the gun behind him. Penny gasped and ducked down, afraid he’d see her inside the semi. When he didn’t shoot, she peeked over the dashboard, watching in horror as they forced Lauren to climb the ladder.
Oh God.
Staying low, she pressed the button on the receiver again. “The prisoners have taken a woman hostage. They already shot and almost killed a man. Please send help. Please contact my father, Jorge Sandoval.”
Penny repeated the message on multiple channels, her voice breaking. She felt helpless. She was terrified for Lauren. If she didn’t fall and break her neck, Jeb and Mickey were going to kill her.
Or worse.
When Lauren reached the top and climbed through the crevice safely, Penny made the sign of the cross, exhaling in relief. Jeb tucked the gun in his pants and followed her up the rope. His injured leg slowed his progress, but he looked determined.
Garrett opened the driver’s-side door, startling her. “Get out.”
“What are you—”
He picked her up as though she weighed nothing and dumped her on the ground next to the semi. “Go back to the RV,” he ordered, taking her place in the driver’s seat. “Lock the door and stay down.” With that, he slammed the door shut and started the engine.
Jeb turned his head toward the sound.
“Madre de Dios.” Penny ran toward the RV, pressing her hand to her soft, tender abdomen and praying that bullets wouldn’t start flying until she was safe. When she got inside, she locked the door behind her.
“What’s happening?” Cadence asked, sobbing.
Cruz was also bawling, which added to the stress and chaos. Penny searched the interior of the motor home for some means of protection. “Get down on the floor with the baby,” she said, rushing toward them.
The girl scrambled off the bed, Cruz in her arms. Moving quickly, Penny pulled the mattress away from the corner and brought it over their heads. Then she joined them under the flimsy shield, taking the baby from Cady.
They cowered in the dark space, huddled together.
Cruz was still fussing, so Penny rocked him gently, murmuring the Hail Mary in Spanish. Seconds later, gunshots rocketed through the cavern.
* * *
GARRETT COULDN’T F*ckING believe it.
Just moments after he walked away from Mickey—without stabbing the motherf*cker in his black heart—Lauren went over to visit him. He had no idea why she’d headed in that direction, let alone why she’d edged close enough to be captured.
What really stuck in his craw, though, was the fact that Jeb had eluded him once again. And it was Garrett’s own damned fault! He hadn’t bothered to check under the tarp when he’d swept the cavern. Who would be crazy enough to hide under there, besides him? He hadn’t wanted to look at the decomposing bodies, or relive those awful moments, which were as bad as his worst experiences in Iraq.
When would he learn to deal with trauma, instead of avoiding it?
He’d thought he was doing the right thing by leaving Mickey unharmed. Garrett should have killed him in cold blood.
Rage suffused him, overwhelming everything else. His gunshot wound didn’t ache anymore. He wanted to tear Jeb and Mickey apart with his bare hands. But he could only watch, immobile, as they took Lauren away from him.
He knew they’d kill her as soon as they got outside. Well, maybe they’d drag her somewhere and rape her first. If they wanted to make a fast getaway, however, they’d just put a bullet in her head and go.
Garrett couldn’t sit this one out. His chances of stopping them were slim to none, and he’d probably get shot again, but f*ck it.
He’d save her or die trying.
Decision made, he raced back to the semi. After he moved Penny out of the way, he climbed into the front seat and started the engine. The expression on Jeb’s face when he stepped on the gas was priceless.
Did he really think Garrett would go down without a fight?
He didn’t know if Lauren could hear the engine, so he honked the horn to warn her that he was coming.
Keeping his head low, he headed straight for the ladder. The tires squealed, leaving smoke in their wake. Jeb had a couple of choices. He could continue climbing. He could jump off the ladder and run for cover. Or, he could stand and shoot.
Jeb brandished his weapon, making the third choice.
Garrett didn’t give a goddamn about the gun. He wanted to draw fire. As soon as Jeb ran out of bullets, his reign of terror would be over. Lauren could climb down the structure and get to safety while they battled it out.
Mickey didn’t stick around to hold the ladder. He let go and hobbled away, leaving Jeb to his own devices. Garrett was disappointed, because he wanted to kill two birds with one stone. On the plus side, the ladder started swaying as soon as Mickey released it. Jeb struggled to keep his grip on the rope and almost lost his balance.
He managed to squeeze off a shot, and damn it if the bastard wasn’t lucky. The bullet hit the front windshield, shattering the glass.
It was close. Real close. The slug sank into the headrest of the driver’s seat, inches from Garrett’s right ear.
He couldn’t give Jeb the opportunity to hone his aim. Heart thundering in his chest, Garrett flipped the light switches on the dash and sounded the horn. At the same time, he accelerated, letting out a guttural yell.
Jeb squinted at the sudden brightness and fired off several more rounds. Bullets peppered the hood and ricocheted inside the semi. Garrett couldn’t tell if he’d been hit; he was too pumped up to feel any impact. Still hollering, he drove the semi straight into the ladder. The top of the truck slammed against Jeb’s legs, knocking him loose. He landed on the hood and rolled toward the open windshield.
Unfortunately, Garrett hadn’t built up enough speed for a fatal crash. Jeb looked disoriented, but he wasn’t dead or unconscious, and he’d kept a grip on his gun. Garrett gritted his teeth and stepped on the gas, crashing the semi into the wall. His body rocketed forward against the steering column.
Jeb slid across the hood and fell over the side.
It took Garrett several seconds to recover his wits. A fresh burst of pain exploded in his left arm, making him dizzy.
He had to...
Opening the door, he stumbled out. He had to finish this.
The front of the semi was crushed. Safety glass glittered on the hood like diamonds. In his haste, Garrett hadn’t remembered to bring his crowbar. He took the Buck knife out of its sheath, creeping around the back bumper.
Jeb was on the other side of the semi. He’d managed to drag himself upright. There was a bloody gash on his forehead, dripping into one eye. With his gimpy leg and rot-soaked clothes, he looked like a walking corpse. Smelled like one, too.
But there was nothing wrong with his trigger finger, or his aim. The second Garrett was in his sights, he fired.
Garrett ducked behind the semi, his head spinning. Jeb tried to shoot again, but the gun made a dull clicking sound. At first, Garrett thought it might be jammed. Then his brain kicked into gear and he realized the chamber was empty.
Finally.
Taking a deep breath, Garrett inched around the bumper again, his knife ready. Jeb tossed the gun aside and reached into his back pocket.
“I’ve got one of those, too,” he said, showing him a serrated blade.
Garrett knew he could beat Jeb at hand-to-hand combat. They were both injured. Jeb’s busted knee canceled out his wounded arm. What gave Garrett pause was the eager glint in his opponent’s eye.
Jeb might be as skilled with a knife as he was with a gun.
Mickey’s whereabouts were another concern. Garrett wouldn’t be surprised if he jumped in to help his friend.
But there was no turning back now. He couldn’t call a truce or wave a white flag. Someone had to die: him or Jeb.
“Let’s go,” Garrett said, gesturing for Jeb to bring it on.
Jeb wiped the blood from his eye and straightened. He glanced at Garrett’s left side, knowing exactly where to strike. When Jeb advanced, Garrett retreated, but only so they could move into an open area.
“I heard you talking to your girlfriend,” Jeb said, limping toward him.
“So?”
“I know why you pretended to be an outsider, hero. I’ve seen you in the yard. You’re a f*cking reform case.”
“F*ck you,” he said, circling around him.
“You’re one of them do-good converts. Think we’re all heathens, and you’re different. You’re special.”
It wasn’t true. Garrett hadn’t found God in prison, or anywhere else. What he’d found was a sense of peace, but only from admitting his guilt and doing his penance. He’d also found a sense of purpose, by educating himself and counseling other inmates.
He didn’t feel special. Lucky, maybe. He hadn’t damaged his brain with drugs, and he’d come from a decent family. That was more than most prisoners could say. When he got out, he might not have a chance with Lauren, but he could rebuild his life.
“You’re not special,” Jeb continued. “I can see the devil in you right now. He’s whispering in your ear. Telling you to kill me.”
Garrett didn’t say anything. Jeb could believe whatever he wanted.
“Ain’t that a sin?”
“I don’t care,” Garrett said, taking a jab at him.
Jeb jumped backward, still spry. “Your girl will. She’s watching.”
Garrett’s gut clenched with trepidation. Was she?
“Why don’t you show her your true nature? Blood excites you. You enjoy causing pain. Underneath it all, you’re a killer. You’re just like me.”
Jeb’s words ate at him, because there was some truth to them. If Lauren was looking down on them, she’d be traumatized. She already thought he was a lying son of a bitch. Now she’d see the violent beast in him, as well.
So be it.
Garrett couldn’t spare Jeb to protect Lauren’s sensibilities. Even so, he pasted a frown on his face and turned his head toward the crevice, feigning distraction. Jeb fell right into the trap. When he pounced, Garrett was ready to defend himself. He blocked the attack with his injured arm and launched a brutal counterstrike. Stepping forward, he sank his blade into the center of Jeb’s chest.
This time Jeb couldn’t evade him. He gasped as the knife plunged to the hilt. His retaliatory stab glanced off Garrett’s shoulder. The blade penetrated the fabric of his coveralls and flayed his skin, scraping along his collarbone.
It was painful, but not effective in stopping him.
Jeb’s knife fell out of his hand, clattering on the ground. “Please,” he said, blood bubbling from his lips.
Showing no mercy—he was a killer, after all—Garrett twisted the handle ruthlessly, watching the light drain from his eyes. Jeb slumped forward into Garrett’s arms. He jerked the blade free and let him fall.
Feeling nothing, not even a twinge of remorse, he wiped his knife clean. Only then did he look up at the crevice.
“Watch out,” Lauren screamed.
Garrett heard the hiss of metal behind him and ducked the split second before a crowbar connected with his skull.