Aftershock

CHAPTER FOUR



GARRETT NEEDED A gun.

He’d already looked near the northeast corner, where the prisoner transport vehicle had been. Jeb must have taken the 9mm from the guard, but Garrett couldn’t find him. He’d probably been crushed under the wall of concrete during the first aftershock.

Lauren accompanied Garrett to search the cars for supplies. He hoped one of the glove compartments would yield a weapon. He should have thought of this yesterday. Then he would have been able to prevent the attack.

“Did you see the way Owen stared at Penny?” she asked.

Garrett kept the RV in sight as he attempted to pry open a trunk with his crowbar. It hadn’t escaped his attention that Penny was easy on the eyes. Owen had taken a good look. “What about it?”

“I’m worried that the convicts won’t stay away like they promised. Especially now that they’ve seen her.”

He continued to wrestle with the trunk, sweat dampening his forehead. The vehicle was half-crushed, which made it difficult to open.

“Maybe they’ll come after her next.”

“I hope not,” he said. “But if they do, I’ll be more prepared.”

Garrett knew he had his work cut out for him. He was trapped in a collapsed structure with two beautiful women, and a group of men who hadn’t touched one in years. Jeb and Mickey apparently had no qualms about rape. They’d probably have gone after anything female, but Lauren’s sexy figure didn’t help matters. Garrett had tried not to notice her as a woman, and failed. His mouth went dry whenever she got close to him.

Penny was too young and too...pregnant...for his tastes. She had a full-grown baby inside her. He couldn’t be certain how the other men felt, but he hoped her condition would be a powerful deterrent against assault.

“What about Cadence?”

The crowbar almost slipped from his grip. “No,” he said, sickened by the thought. “They wouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

He stopped messing around with the trunk and leveled with her. “There’s a code against hurting kids in prison. Pedophiles get the same done to them—or worse.”

She didn’t ask how he knew that. “We’re not in prison. Whatever rules they follow in there don’t apply.”

Garrett didn’t necessarily agree. This was very much like prison. They’d already established a hierarchy and formed alliances. After living the same routine day by day, rules and structures weren’t easily shed. “You’re the most desirable target,” he said flatly. “If anything, they’ll make another move on you.”

Her cheeks paled. He suspected that she felt more comfortable focusing on the well-being of others. So did he, but he’d learned the hard way to put himself first. Dead men couldn’t save anyone else.

She stared at the RV, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well, I should warn them anyway.”

“Good idea. Tell them exactly what happened to you.”

Her soft mouth twisted into a frown.

Garrett turned his attention back to the crumpled trunk, concentrating on creating a wedge for the crowbar. He didn’t want to replay the events from last night in his head. Seeing her in a state of dishabille had disturbed him on many levels. He had to admit that not all his feelings toward her were protective.

How different was he from Jeb and Mickey?

He’d been in dark places and done terrible things. Situations like this turned good men into animals. Maybe there was a reason she’d thought it was him attacking her. He was certainly capable of violence. And—he wanted her. A primitive part of him had been excited by her torn clothes and exposed flesh.

Putting all his frustrations into the task at hand, he wrenched the trunk open with a grunt of exertion.

Jackpot.

The owner of this vehicle was Lauren’s coma patient. He’d been wearing hiking boots, and he had a national parks pass. His truck was full of climbing gear.

“What’s that?” Lauren asked.

He removed a backpack loaded with carabiners, ropes and pulleys. “It might be our way out of here,” he said, glancing at the narrow crack that snaked along the easternmost wall of the structure. A few stories up, near the top, there was a crevice that appeared wide enough to stick his arm through.

“You can’t be serious,” she said, following his gaze.

“We can fit an SOS flag through there. If the roads are blocked, our best chance of being seen is from the air.”

“Are you an experienced climber?”

“No, but I’ve done some parachuting.”

“Well, that’s practically the same thing,” she said with false brightness. “Collapsed freeway, open sky. We’re saved!”

He smiled at her sarcasm, taking no offense. “I meant that I’m familiar with heights and safety gear. Pararescue is all about rope work. But there’s no guarantee anyone will notice our flag, even if I can get up there.”

She moistened her lips, glancing from the cracked concrete to the dark corner where their opponents resided. He knew what she was thinking. They’d be vulnerable to an attack while he attempted an ascent.

He rifled through the contents of the trunk, shelving the climbing plan for later. “First we need to find a CB radio.”

“What about cell phones?”

“We can’t count on service coming back. Power might be out indefinitely.”

Garrett found a duffel bag with the climber’s personal belongings, a change of clothes and identification. “Sam Rutherford,” he read on the driver’s license. Inside the duffel there was a strange object, like a dusky-gold vase.

Lauren reached out to touch it. “That’s an urn.”

He noted a woman’s name was engraved on the side before he put it back. “Maybe he was going somewhere to spread the ashes.”

The climber also had a canvas tent and some camping supplies, along with a desert-style camel pack. Garrett slung the pack over his shoulder and released the drinking tube, filling his mouth with fresh water. It was amazing how thirsty one could get when fluids were scarce. He wanted to drink and drink and drink.

Instead he offered the tube to Lauren. She stood on tiptoe to reach, placing her hand on his shoulder. Her breasts pressed against his arm. While he watched, entranced, her lips closed around the tube, her cheeks hollowing slightly as she sucked.

Only a horny bastard would continue to stare, and think dirty thoughts, at a time like this. He dragged his gaze away from her pretty mouth and slender throat, but even the sound of her swallowing struck him as erotic.

Focus on something else, Garrett. He grappled for a new topic and found only a random Dune quote: “‘Your water shall mingle with our water.’”

She laughed, patting his shoulder. “Thanks, Fremen.”

Shaking his head at himself, he added the climbing gear to the supplies he’d stockpiled yesterday. They had crates, blankets, first-aid kits, empty containers, rope, tools and a number of other items that might prove useful.

But what they needed most, other than water—and a weapon—was a way to communicate with the outside world.

“Where should we search next? Use your Bene Gesserit powers.”

She smiled at the idea. “If I’m Lady Jessica, who are you?”

“Duke Leto,” he said, naming her lover.

“He dies.”

“Oh. Right. That’s okay.” Totally worth it.

Giving him a weird look, she pointed to the west side of the structure. “I think I saw a semitruck over there. Just the cab.”

Now that she mentioned it, he remembered walking by the Kenworth. Stress and lack of sleep, or maybe sensory overload, had caused the semi to slip from his mind. “Perfect,” he said. “Truckers always have radios.”

She had to check on her patients again, so he went to a far corner and unzipped his pants. The women had been using the bathroom in the RV, and flushing infrequently to save water. He preferred this, more primitive method, though neither was ideal.

When he was finished, he rejoined Lauren in front of the motor home. The temperature inside the collapsed freeway had been comfortable all morning, but now it was heating up. Her cheeks were flushed, her forehead shiny with perspiration.

“I need something else to wear,” she said, taking off her jacket.

He waited while she found a clean tank top in the pile of supplies. Rather than going inside the RV to change clothes, she ducked behind it, shrugging out of the torn uniform shirt. Garrett caught a glimpse of her naked shoulders, bisected by thin bra straps. He averted his gaze, feeling heat creep up his neck. When she put on the top and turned around, he tried not to notice the soft white cotton molded to her breasts.

She didn’t match his mental picture of the regal, dark-haired Lady Jessica. With her sun-streaked blond ponytail, ocean-blue eyes and perky figure, she looked more like a bikini model. Or a sexy lifeguard. She was lovely.

The Kenworth cab was sitting near the south edge of the structure, unoccupied. Perhaps that was why it hadn’t tripped his radar. Over the past twenty-four hours, he’d been focused on bodies, dead or alive.

“Where do you think the driver went?” Lauren asked.

Garrett shrugged. There were several empty cars beneath the structure. He assumed that some of the inhabitants had abandoned their vehicles, only to be crushed by debris during the first aftershock. If Garrett had gone the opposite direction, he’d have been buried alive himself. “Maybe he escaped.”

The Kenworth appeared no worse for the wear. Many of the other vehicles inside the structure had been smashed beyond recognition. He opened the driver’s-side door of the semi and climbed inside. The interior was clean and organized. It had a sleeper cab, with a narrow bed in the back, and a shiny black CB radio under the dash.

The keys dangled from the ignition.

Flashing a grin at Lauren, he sat down and fired it up. The engine roared to life. Garrett realized that they’d found a pot of gold. The truck could be used for communication, shelter, even transportation.

He rose to check the glove compartment, his pulse accelerating with hope. Unfortunately, it didn’t contain any weapons.

Lauren came in to investigate. Brushing by him, she scanned the sleeping area. Their eyes connected for a moment. She glanced away quickly, clearing her throat. While he turned on the radio, she searched the contents of the cab for any supplies they could use.

Garrett didn’t find a clean channel. There was nothing but static and interference. He picked up the receiver anyway, handing it to Lauren.

After a short hesitation, she sat down in the passenger seat and pressed the talk button. “This is Lauren Boyer of San Diego, California. We have an emergency situation and need immediate help.” She paused. “Over.”

“Tell them where we are,” he said.

“We’re trapped in a freeway collapse at the Interstate 8 and Highway 163 connection. There are ten survivors, some critically wounded. Please respond, over.”

Her plea was met with the flat crackle of white noise. They waited a few minutes, and she repeated the message, with no success.

“Morse code might work better,” he said. “It can be heard at long distances when voice communication isn’t viable.”

She set aside the receiver, her hands trembling. Garrett understood how she felt. They were on an emotional roller coaster. The ups and downs were more difficult to stomach than a steady barrage of bad news.

“Want to go for a ride?” he asked.

She looked startled. “In this?”

“Sure. Let’s take her back to camp. We need the radio nearby in case someone answers. If she feels up to it, Penny can send out a call in Spanish.”

“That’s a good idea,” she said. Some of the despair drained from her eyes. “Let’s do it.”

He put the truck into gear, released the hand brake and stepped on the gas. They took a serpentine route back to the RV because there were so many obstacles. He parked next to the triage area, facing the north corner.

Jeb and Mickey would have a hard time sneaking up on this baby. Tonight, Lauren could sleep in the back while Garrett stayed up front.

When he hazarded a glance at her, he realized that she also understood the benefits. Her lips curved into an appreciative smile, as if he’d done something special. She seemed grateful, and he didn’t know what to say.

She was the one who’d fought hard all night, trying to save lives. He’d just thrown a few punches after falling asleep on the job.

He scolded himself for being flattered by her attention. There wasn’t anyone else she could count on. It didn’t take any skill to tap out an SOS code, or do the heavy lifting. But he loved the way she looked at him, as if he were smart and honorable and strong. He wanted to be that man, the superhero she thought he was.

“You must have been a good soldier.”

He’d been a Marine, not a soldier, but he didn’t bother to correct her. “I was okay,” he said, shrugging. Off duty, he’d been pretty dishonorable.

“How many years did you serve?”

“In the Marine Corps?”

A crease formed between her brows. “Were you in another branch of the military?”

“No,” he said, tightening his hands on the steering wheel. “I served four years, two overseas.”

“Why’d you leave?”

“I had PTSD.” It was the truth, but such a small part of the truth that it felt like a lie. “After my second tour ended, I was discharged.”

“Did you get treatment?”

“Not really. I refused to see a psychologist.”

She made a sympathetic face.

“I was kind of screwed up.”

“How’d you get better?”

“I met some other war veterans. They were like a support group. I also read a lot. I read Dune while I was recovering.”

“Really? That’s amazing.”

He didn’t see how, but it wasn’t polite to argue with a lady.

“What else did you read?”

“Lots of things.” He tried to remember some titles. Science fiction and fantasy were his favorites. He also enjoyed travel stories, wilderness adventures...anything to take him away from cold, hard reality. “Watership Down, The Stand, Lord of the Rings, White Fang.”

She smiled. “I’ve read some of those.”

That didn’t surprise him. Her eyes were alight with intelligence and compassion. She reminded him of some of the teachers he’d had in college. “It’s kind of ironic, but the last book I read was about a guy who got his arm stuck in a rock.”

“Aron Ralston? I read that, too.”

“Did you?”

“Yes. It wasn’t my usual type of story, but I enjoyed it. I’ll read anything.”

“If I find any books in the cars, I’ll bring them to you.”

She glanced out the window, falling silent. They hadn’t been able to sit down for more than a few moments at a time. Leisure reading wasn’t on the schedule. “Hopefully we won’t have to cut any limbs off to get free.”

He shouldn’t have brought up that Ralston book. It was a little grisly. “Do you want to lie down and rest?”

“No,” she said. “I have to check on Mrs. Engle again. I’ll see if Penny can come over here to monitor the radio.”

He had to get going also. “Let me show you how to do a basic SOS.” Turning the CB back on, he tapped three short beats, followed by three longer beats, and then three more short beats. “It just repeats. You can try different channels and frequencies.”

Before he climbed out of the truck, she reached between them, covering his hand with hers. The bandage, which had been snowy-white in the predawn darkness, was now dingy. Like everything else he touched.

“Thank you,” she said.

“I haven’t done anything.”

“You’ve done a lot.”

Her hand looked small compared to his. Slender and capable, while his were clumsy, blunt fingered, brutish. She squeezed his palm gently, her fingertips sweeping over his thumb. The caress was innocent; his reaction, anything but.

He had to go now, before she noticed. “Can I have my hand back?”

She released it with a frown, confused by his rudeness. If she only knew. He muttered a terse goodbye and left the semi, walking away in discomfort. After putting several car lengths of distance between them, he slowed his pace, taking a deep breath.

That was close.

He really had to get ahold of himself. If he couldn’t control his thoughts, or his body’s response to her, he might not be able to control his actions. Lauren had placed her trust in him. He was supposed to guard her from the other men.

Who would guard her from him?