CHAPTER THREE
LAUREN DREAMT NOT OF GARRETT, but of Michael.
They were in Bermuda on their honeymoon. She was wading through the gentle surf, holding his hand, taking Rebecca’s place. Sleeping in his bed. Everything was perfect. Except...him.
His touch was too rough. He tore the buttons at the front of her uniform shirt and squeezed her breasts painfully.
Wait. Why was she wearing her uniform?
Lauren jolted awake. She wasn’t in Bermuda with Michael. She was lying on a blanket on the hard ground, trapped under a freeway collapse. It was dark, almost pitch-black in the cavern. A large, wide-shouldered man loomed before her. When she drew a breath to scream, he crushed his palm over her mouth.
He was strong. His weight held her captive as his other hand continued to fumble at her shirtfront, ripping the fabric.
Perhaps because his face was the last one she’d seen before falling asleep, she pictured Garrett as her attacker. The idea that a man she’d trusted would do this horrified her. Tasting the salt of a fleshy palm, she bit down.
He grunted in pain and readjusted his grip, digging his fingernails into her jaw.
A few scattered details emerged. The man on top of her smelled like beer, and he had a rounded gut. Garrett’s was as flat as a drum. Also, his head was bald. A dim light in the distance reflected off his shiny pate.
This wasn’t Garrett! Thank God.
Maybe he would hear them scuffling and come to help. Her heart surged with hope and adrenaline. She bucked beneath her assailant and kicked her legs, making guttural sounds of distress in the back of her throat. He was smothering her mouth and nose. She couldn’t breathe. His palm was slippery with sweat and blood.
She managed to dislodge his hand long enough to let out a hoarse scream. Cursing, he grabbed a fistful of her hair and tried to slam her head against the concrete. The tangled blanket underneath her impeded the maneuver.
And then there was a streak of light, followed by a heavy thunk.
Her attacker slumped forward, the air whooshing out of his lungs. His grip on her hair loosened. Someone shoved him aside and began whaling on him.
Lauren sat upright, trying to make sense of the situation. A flashlight rolled toward her, resting against the bunched blanket. The edge of its beam revealed Garrett on top of Mickey, pounding the hell out of him.
He’d saved her.
Tears filled her eyes. She clapped a hand over her mouth, sobbing. Garrett’s fist connected with Mickey’s nose, breaking the cartilage. Blood gushed from his nostrils. Lauren shrank away from the sight, horrified.
“Motherf*cker,” Garrett muttered, turning Mickey over on his stomach and wrenching his arms behind his back.
An ominous click in the distance brought the action to a halt.
“Let him go,” a voice drawled.
Lauren searched the dark edges of the cavern, her shoulders trembling. Jeb was leaning against a burned vehicle, smoking a cigarette. Although he stood in the shadows, she could see a glowing ember, along with the hard glint of metal.
Did he have a gun?
Garrett kept his hold on Mickey, noncompliant. Both men were panting from exertion, steam rising from their bodies.
Lauren snaked her hand toward the flashlight.
Jeb released the safety on his weapon. This time, the sound was unmistakable. “I wouldn’t do that, honey.”
She froze, her fingertips tingling. Garrett didn’t move.
“You don’t want to see her brains splattered all over that blanket,” he said in a cool tone. “Let Mickey get up and walk.”
It was clear that Garrett didn’t want to follow Jeb’s orders, but he had no choice. After a short hesitation, he released Mickey. As soon as he was free, Mickey scrambled to his feet and, holding his ravaged nose, lumbered toward Jeb.
The pair dissolved into the black abyss.
Lauren and Garrett didn’t speak for a few seconds. She struggled to catch her breath and calm her racing thoughts.
Mickey had almost raped her.
If Garrett hadn’t intervened, she might have been assaulted and beaten and dragged back to the pickup.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she said, touching her face. Her cheek bore the marks of Mickey’s fingernails and her jaw ached.
Garrett picked up the flashlight and inspected her injuries. “That motherf*cker,” he repeated through clenched teeth, glancing toward the north corner of the cavern. Then he continued his examination, shining the light down the center of her body. He seemed relieved to find her pants intact.
Lauren pulled the edges of her shirt together with trembling hands. The lace cups of her bra barely covered her breasts. “I thought it was you.”
His gaze rose to her face. “What?”
“It was dark. I didn’t know who was attacking me at first.”
He gaped at her in dismay, unable to formulate a response.
“That was the scariest part. Thinking it was you.”
“Jesus,” he said in a hushed voice. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Yes, it is.” He looked like he wanted to punch himself a few times. “I told you I was going to keep watch and I fell asleep.”
She couldn’t blame him for drifting off. They’d had an exhausting day.
“F*ck,” he yelled, raking his fingers through his hair. “This is so f*cked up!”
“Do you think they’ll come back?”
“Yes. Maybe not tonight, but eventually.”
Her stomach twisted with dread.
“There’s something I should tell you.”
“What?” she asked, warning bells sounding in her head.
His throat worked as he swallowed. “One of the vehicles in the north corner is a prisoner transport van. It got smashed to hell, like your ambulance.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Those men are escaped convicts.”
It took a few seconds for his words to sink in. They were trapped in rubble with critical victims, dead bodies and armed criminals. According to a couple of Spanish-language broadcasts, which Penny had translated, disaster crews were dealing with mass casualties. The freeways were impassable and several large buildings had collapsed.
A quick rescue was unlikely.
“They must have taken the gun from a guard.”
She glanced away, fresh terror coursing through her veins.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I thought they’d be sleeping off the alcohol, not coming over here to attack you. I had no idea they were this dangerous.”
Lauren took a deep, calming breath. The only way to get through this was to move forward. Garrett could beat himself up all he wanted, but she had to focus on the next step. There wasn’t time to get emotional.
She checked her watch: 5:04 a.m. The last aftershock had hit at 1:30. She’d gotten at least three hours of sleep.
Her shirt was torn, and the temperature had cooled significantly. Rising to her feet, she found a jacket in the pile of clothes Garrett had collected earlier, and she shrugged into it. “I have to check on the patients.”
He followed her with the flashlight, pointing the beam where she needed it. Mrs. Engle moaned in pain. Lauren gave her as much morphine as she could spare. Her other patient, the man with the head injury, was still unconscious.
Lauren was glad they were both alive.
She gathered a handful of medical supplies and a small mirror, checking the scratches on her cheek. Although the marks were barely noticeable, she scrubbed at them with antiseptic wipes. Her face was filthy. After cleaning every inch of exposed skin above her neck, she went to work on her chest, determined to remove the stain of Mickey’s touch.
Garrett stayed silent, and kept his eyes averted, but she noticed his concerned expression. Her hands stilled. If she scrubbed any harder, she’d bleed.
Clearing her throat, she trashed the soiled wipes and zipped up her jacket. More comfortable treating patients other than herself, she turned to Garrett. He didn’t appear injured. Mickey must not have landed any blows.
Maybe he only hit women.
“Let me see your knuckles,” she said.
With obvious reluctance, Garrett sat down across from her and showed her his bloody fists. They looked awful. She hadn’t ever treated the cuts from the safety glass. Old wounds mixed with new ones, creating a crosshatch of dark slashes.
They needed to be soaked, but she couldn’t waste water. After cleaning his hands with antibacterial foam, she placed them on a surgical towel and took out her suture kit. One of the lacerations was long and deep.
“I can give you a local anesthetic.”
“Just do it,” he replied.
The first time the needle punctured his skin, he sucked in a sharp breath. After that, he endured the short procedure in silence, showing no reaction. She made five neat stitches and bandaged his knuckles.
His skin was darkly tanned, as if he worked outdoors, and his palms were callused. Ropey veins stood out on the backs of his hands in harsh relief. He had good blood pressure, like an endurance athlete.
“Are you in the military?” she asked when she was finished.
He thanked her, flexing his hand. “I was.”
“Which branch?”
“The Marines.”
“Did you go to Iraq?”
“Twice.”
“How was it?”
“Kind of like this.”
His answers were curt and honest, which suited her fine. The fact that he had combat experience was a plus, given Jeb and Mickey’s presence.
“I’m going to stay right beside you today,” he announced. “I’ll carry a tire iron, and see if I can find any other weapons. Cadence and Penny should hang out inside the RV. No one goes anywhere alone.”
“Agreed.”
“We should do something with the bodies before it heats up.”
Her stomach did a queasy flip-flop. He was right. The corpses would begin to smell and attract flies.
Lauren wasn’t squeamish about death, but she didn’t usually have to deal with decomposition. Transporting bodies wasn’t part of her job. The coroner’s office or the police department took care of the dead. Emergency services focused on the living.
Taking a flashlight, they looked for a place to stack the corpses, avoiding the north edge, where Jeb and Mickey were holed up. The rubble at the southwest corner offered the best possible burial site. In addition to car-size chunks of concrete, there were a lot of small, loose rocks to work with.
The corner also had the lowest elevation in the cavern, another plus. Decomposition fluids would not creep uphill.
When she pointed this out to Garrett, he dragged a hand down his face, deliberating. “Let’s eat breakfast first.”
She murmured her assent. They might not have an appetite after.
* * *
GARRETT FOLLOWED LAUREN back to the RV, surveying the edges of the cavern with dark anticipation.
He’d love to take another crack at Mickey. If Jeb hadn’t shown up, Garrett wouldn’t have let him off so easy. He’d wanted to keep hitting him, and hitting him, and hitting him. Maybe even until Mickey stopped breathing.
Garrett had killed a man with his bare hands before.
The monster inside him had been chained too long. Garrett thought he’d conquered his anger issues, and he didn’t want to repeat the mistakes of his past. But he’d been enraged by the attempted rape. He was furious with Lauren’s attackers, and with himself.
Don had risen early, like them. He made instant coffee and scrambled eggs. Garrett helped himself to both and took a seat in a folded camp chair.
“How are the girls?” Lauren asked Don.
“Sleeping,” he said, with a tense smile. “Cadence had a rough night. She kept calling out for her parents.”
“Are they here in San Diego?”
“No, they live up north. She was visiting me and my wife for spring break. We live in La Mesa.”
“I have an apartment near there. Balboa Park.” Sipping her coffee, she turned to Garrett. “How about you?”
“What about me?”
“Where do you live?”
“Santee,” he said, shoveling eggs into his mouth. He didn’t want to continue this conversation.
To his relief, Penny came outside to join them, and Lauren’s attention was diverted. “How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Okay,” the pregnant girl mumbled.
“Did you sleep?”
“A little.”
Shuffling forward, Penny lowered herself into a lawn chair. Her long hair was tangled, her stomach huge and her eyes puffy. She looked miserable, but unharmed, her skin free from any serious cuts or burns.
Garrett moved his gaze back to Lauren, noting that the mark of Mickey’s hand on her cheek had already begun to fade. Like Penny, she wasn’t badly injured. Garrett felt some of his tension ease. In order to assist her, he had to control his emotions. Going on a murderous rampage wouldn’t be helpful.
Protecting her was his number one mission, and he couldn’t fail. Not this time.
After he finished his breakfast, he took Don aside for a man-to-man. He’d learned yesterday that Don was a Vietnam vet. He had the stoicism and work ethic of career military. Though retired, he was fit and strong.
“Something happened last night,” Garrett said.
“What’s that?”
He’d already told Don about the busted-up convict van. He should have notified Lauren, but she’d been busy with her patients. He hadn’t wanted to worry her.
That was his mistake—and she’d paid for it.
“One of the convicts tried to rape Lauren,” Garrett said.
Don’s brow furrowed with concern. “Did he get to her?”
“No. I woke up and...interrupted. Then his buddy showed up and pulled a gun on me. They both got away.”
Don let out a low whistle. “What should we do?”
“What can we do?”
“I don’t know, son.”
Garrett understood that Don was using the expression in an offhand way, but it had been years since anyone had called him “son.” He cleared his throat, awash with memories. “I’m just telling you what went down.”
“Do you think they’ll come back?”
“They might.”
“We have to be careful.”
“Yes.”
Don glanced down at the crowbar Garrett held, his eyes narrowing. He didn’t ask what Garrett’s intentions were, and didn’t seem to disapprove of the weapon. Even so, Garrett felt uneasy. They’d spent most of the previous day together, working side by side. Don didn’t talk much, but he struck Garrett as a deep thinker.
Lauren was focused on her patients. Penny and Cadence were too young and too traumatized to be making canny observations. Don, on the other hand, had been around the block more than once. He’d gone to war and witnessed the evils that men did. If anyone was going to take a long, hard look at Garrett, it was him.
“I need help clearing away the dead bodies,” Garrett said, tightening his grip on the crowbar.
“Sure,” Don said. “I’ll be ready in a minute.”
He went inside the RV, probably to say goodbye to Cadence. He walked back out with a baseball bat, as if he was ready to knock a few heads together. Garrett smothered a grin, admiring the older man’s gumption. He slid the crowbar through his belt loop while Don attached the bat to a string on his wrist.
Garrett asked Lauren for some latex gloves, and she let him borrow the stretcher. Moving the dead was filthy, awful work. They smelled, not of decomposition, but of human waste and charred flesh. He didn’t think he’d ever get the stink of it off his clothes. For the hundredth time since the quake hit, he was reminded of the horrors in Iraq.
After caring for her patients, Lauren joined them. She pulled her weight and then some. He’d been deployed with some very tough women, so he shouldn’t have been surprised. Although slim and feminine, she was strong.
Avoiding the north side, where Jeb and Mickey were, they cleared the bodies from the other areas. The last victim was a boy, about thirteen years old.
Lauren helped load him onto the stretcher. The wounds he’d sustained appeared major. Death had probably been instantaneous. They laid him to rest atop the others, in an ungodly stack of twisted limbs. When Lauren crossed his thin arms over his chest, Garrett turned away, blinking the moisture from his eyes.
He covered the mound of bodies with a tarp, and they all piled rocks over the surface. It wasn’t a proper burial, not by a long shot, but it was the best they could manage.
“We should say something,” Lauren said.
Garrett glanced at Don, who shook his head. Garrett couldn’t find the words, either. He’d stopped believing in God years ago.
There was a spring bouquet on the front seat of a nearby car. Retrieving it, she placed the flowers among the rocks and stepped back, reaching for Garrett’s hand. He took it. At her urging, he grasped Don’s hand as well.
“Moment of silence?”
He nodded.
They stood quietly, paying their respects. Garrett stared at the bouquet against the rocks. The blooms were a bit bruised, but still pretty and fresh. They were starkly beautiful in contrast to the ravaged surroundings.
He stayed still, aware of Lauren’s slender hand in his, her head bent close to his shoulder. If he turned, he could touch his lips to her mussed blond hair. His chest tightened with longing at the thought.
When she released him, he stepped back in haste, fighting the urge to rub his palm against his jeans.
As if he could remove his desire for her.
* * *
BACK AT THE RV, Lauren checked on Penny.
The teenager seemed to be recovering well enough. Her eyes were swollen from crying and she looked groggy. The signs of grief were normal and healthy; Lauren would be more concerned if she acted unaffected.
Cadence appeared to be in good health, as well. She was a bundle of nervous energy, bouncing around the RV and asking for her mother often. Lauren gave her the responsibility of calling emergency services. Every hour or so, the girl dialed 911 on a handful of cell phones. So far, none of the calls had connected.
“Burying” the dead had made an impact on how Lauren felt about their entrapment. The cavern wasn’t as macabre. It was still dirty, and bloody, and dangerous, but at least there weren’t corpses scattered all over the ground.
She tried not to replay last night’s attack, or worry too much about getting out. Garrett had collected a small cache of sodas and sports drinks, but it wasn’t enough to keep five people hydrated indefinitely.
They’d have to take it one day at a time.
She fretted over her patients, both of whom might die without proper care. The situation was a paramedic’s worst nightmare. She didn’t have the expertise or the equipment to save them. They needed to be hospitalized.
While she was changing a bag of IV fluids, another aftershock rocked the structure.
Heart racing, she held the bag steady and glanced upward, hoping the ceiling wouldn’t come tumbling down. It didn’t, but the malfunctioning car alarm started going off again.
Don and Garrett went to see if they could dismantle it. Lauren still had her hands full when a man staggered out of the dark, startling her.
It was one of the convicts. Not Jeb or Mickey, but the young man with blond hair and blackened eyes. He’d regained consciousness.
He was taller than she’d figured, over six feet. Even without the bruises, he’d have looked intimidating. His hands and neck were covered with tattoos. He wore a bleak expression, as if he couldn’t believe the devastation around him.
Cadence burst through the side door of the motor home. When she saw him, she stopped and stared, her eyes wide.
“Water,” he rasped.
Penny appeared at the door also. She told Cadence to get back inside.
The man did a double take when he saw Penny. Lauren wasn’t sure if he was reacting to her late-stage pregnancy or her uncommon beauty, but he appeared dumbfounded. “Do you have any water?” he repeated.
Lauren hurried to change the IV bag.
Cadence reached into a box beside the RV for a bottle of water. She unscrewed the cap and stepped forward with the simple offering. As he accepted the plastic bottle, the girl saw the bold black swastika on his hand.
Her face changed from cautious to stricken. She recognized the symbol, and knew what it meant.
Lauren’s heart broke for her.
Cadence backed away, retreating to the safety of the RV. Penny put her arm around Cadence’s shoulders and gave the man a cold look.
He drank all the water, his throat working in long gulps. Although he seemed disoriented, he also appeared apologetic, as if he regretted offending them with his presence. Thirst overruled shame, however, and he drank every drop.
Garrett returned with Don, holding a crowbar at his side. He studied the newcomer in an openly adversarial manner.
Lauren finished with the IV and came forward. She remembered the young man’s name: Owen. Did he know what his comrades had been up to last night? Was he a sexual predator, as well as a convict and a racist?
Unfortunately, those questions went unanswered.
Jeb’s voice rang out from the back of the cavern. “Get some food, Owen.” He flicked on a flashlight to reveal his location. He was standing next to an empty car, gun shoved in the waistband of his pants.
Owen flinched at the command, as if he didn’t like being ordered around. But Jeb had the gun, so he was in charge. The younger man scanned the group he’d been told to steal from, and found no sympathizers. His gaze settled on Garrett, their obvious leader.
“We’ll share on one condition,” Garrett said, speaking directly to Jeb.
Jeb smirked. “What’s that?”
“Keep your boys in line. No more...visits.”
Lauren frowned at the innocuous-sounding characterization. Mickey had sexually assaulted her, not dropped in uninvited for tea.
Jeb seemed insulted by Garrett’s suggestion that he didn’t have control over his cronies. “I don’t think Mickey’s up for another visit, thanks to you. But we’ll stay out of your hair.” He winked at Lauren. “Ma’am.”
When Garrett nodded, Don packed up a box of their much-needed supplies.
She wondered if Owen was cut from the same cloth as Mickey and Jeb. Maybe he didn’t want to do this. Clearly, he had no choice. When Don handed him the box, Owen fumbled for a moment, almost spilling the contents on the ground. With a terse thank-you, and one last glance at Penny, he returned to his crew.
Lauren moved to stand beside Garrett, her hands clenched into fists. The lines between factions had been drawn. Their side had a lot more to lose.
Feeling helpless, she looked up at Garrett. Yesterday, Jeb had been spoiling for a fight. They might try to isolate Garrett and take him out. Without him in the picture, Jeb would have free rein. Lauren and Don couldn’t stand up to three men with a gun.
“What’s to stop him from shooting at you?” she asked.
“Common sense.”
“I don’t trust him.”
He deliberated for a moment. “I’ll clear more space around the RV so there’s nothing to hide behind. Don and I will take turns keeping watch.”
She nibbled her lip, worried.
“He’s not going to shoot at me, Lauren.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m the best chance they have of escaping. I’m collecting all the resources, doing all the work.”
Lauren didn’t have to ask what would happen when their resources were gone. She already knew. If they ran out of water, they wouldn’t have to worry about getting shot. They’d die of thirst in three days.