Aftershock (25 page)

“Tell me about it,” she said, snuggling against his chest.

Garrett didn’t want to, but he couldn’t say no to her. After
sex that hot, he was putty in her hands. “In some ways, it’s like being in Iraq.
Close quarters. No privacy. Idiots yelling. Sudden breakouts of violence. You
can’t leave.” He struggled to articulate impressions that had been internalized
before now. His fellow inmates had no reason to talk to each other about what
prison was like; they already knew. “It’s worse, though, because I was a Marine
by choice. I got paid to serve my country, and that’s an honor. There’s no honor
in prison.”

“Are you paid for your labor?”

“Sure,” he said sardonically. “Thirty cents an hour.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No.”

“Can you refuse?”

“Yeah, but why would I? Sitting inside a cramped cell is the
real torture. There’s a mile-long waiting list for the manual-labor crew. It
takes years to get on. We’ll kill each other for a chance to break our backs in
the sun.”

“Do you have any free time?”

“God, yes. Way too much.”

“How do you spend it?”

“I go stir-crazy without exercise, so I work out as much as
possible.”

“With weights?”

“Sometimes. We’re only allowed outside an hour a day, and it’s
hard to get a turn at the weight bench. More often, I do push-ups and pull-ups
in my cell.”

“What else?”

“I read whatever I can get my hands on. The library sucks, but
we have access to newspapers and magazines. We can go on the internet. And they
offer college classes in the evenings.”

“You’ve taken classes?”

“Yeah. I sign up for all of them. Art, math, creative writing.
My favorite was psychology.”

She lifted her head to study him. A strange expression crossed
over her face, as if she couldn’t picture him doing anything but shooting guns
and choking people out. “What will you do for work after your release?”

He shrugged. “Convicts don’t exactly have their pick of
careers. I’d be lucky to get a job doing manual labor.”

“And if you had your pick?”

She was asking him questions he’d rarely dared to consider.
Dreaming of better opportunities and happy endings was dangerous for an inmate.
That way led to madness, because survival depended on living for today. “If I
could do anything, I’d be a military psychologist. When I had PTSD, I was sent
to a female counselor. I think that was one of the reasons I refused help. It
was hard for me to imagine opening up to her. Men, especially Marines, struggle
with showing emotions. We’re taught that crying is weak.”

She kissed the corner of his mouth. “You’re not weak,
Garrett.”

“No military base would hire me, even as a counselor,” he said,
feeling self-conscious. “But if I finished my degree, I could teach.”

“Teach?”

He nodded. “There’s a shortage of professors who are willing to
work with prisoners. It’s not an easy job, but I’d do it in a heartbeat. I think
I’d enjoy it. I believe in rehabilitation. And I might not be welcome anywhere
else, with my criminal record.”

Shifting into a more comfortable position, she curled her arms
around his neck. “Will you look me up when you get out?”

His gut clenched at the question. Instead of answering it, he
posed another. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-six.”

“In five years, you’ll be thirty-one.”

“Over the hill?” she teased.

“Hardly,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You’ll probably be
married by then. Husband, babies, big house in the suburbs.”

“Would that bother you?”

Of course it would. She knew he was crazy about her. He didn’t
want to picture her with another man, but he’d never ask her to wait for him.
She hadn’t killed anyone. Why should she pay with him?

This fuckup was his and his alone.

“If you were mine, I wouldn’t appreciate your exes showing up
on our doorstep. Certainly not that needle-dick doctor.”

She giggled, pressing her face to his throat. “He wasn’t—”

“I don’t want to know.”

Sobering, she said, “I’d like to keep in touch.”

“No,” he said, pulling away from her. “I can’t.”

“You aren’t allowed phone calls?”

“That’s not it.” He adjusted his coveralls around his waist,
making sure he wasn’t exposed. This conversation made him feel vulnerable
enough. “Being locked up is difficult. Kidding myself about having a future with
you would make it unbearable.”

“Why?”

“Because we’d both be miserable! I love you, Lauren. But I
don’t want you to waste a single second of your life on me.”

Her blue eyes flashed with annoyance. “What I do with my time
is my choice, not yours. I can spend it any way I please.”

“You can’t spend it with me. I’ll refuse to see you if you
visit. I won’t accept your calls or read your letters.”

“I don’t understand,” she said, her mouth trembling.

“It wouldn’t be fair to either of us. I’m sure you’d get tired
of waiting and move on, but I’d hate myself for encouraging you. I know what
it’s like to watch my best years pass me by. Jesus, I’ve been incarcerated for
most of my twenties. Time means everything to me. I’d rather die than take yours
away from you.”

“What if I can’t move on?”

“You can,” he said. “You have to.”

Her face crumpled with emotion. “I don’t want to.”

That made two of them. Chest aching, he pulled her into his
arms again, comforting her while she cried.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

A
FTER
G
ARRETT
DRIFTED
OFF
,
Lauren eased out of
his embrace.

She stared at him for a few minutes, her heart heavy. They
loved each other, but he didn’t want to see her anymore. He refused to even
discuss the idea of continuing their relationship after he went back to
prison.

Even so, it was too late to reverse her feelings for him. Maybe
Penny was right, and she’d have wanted him anyway. Maybe Garrett was right, and
she’d known all along. She’d suspected something was off about him. She’d noted
his similarities to Owen.

Had she been fooling herself? Although she wouldn’t have chosen
to get involved with an inmate, perhaps a secret part of her had been excited by
the illicit thrill. She wasn’t immune to animal lust. In a life-or-death
situation, all senses were heightened. Like most women, she responded to muscles
and pheromones and raw masculinity.

Maybe, deep down, she’d wanted to fuck a war hero
and
a convict.

Troubled by the thought, she put on her clothes. She certainly
hadn’t held anything back during their latest encounter. Before Garrett, she
couldn’t have imagined screaming a man’s name or begging him to make love to
her.

Flushing, she left the semi. As much as she’d like to discount
their affair as purely sexual, she couldn’t. Her throat closed up at the thought
of losing him. When they separated, she’d miss more than his touch.

Darkness had fallen inside the cavern. It was still and
quiet.

Too quiet.

She hurried toward the triage tent, worried that Sam’s
condition had worsened. As she traversed the open space beneath the crevice, a
dark figure dropped from above, scaring the hell out of her. She jumped
backward, drawing a breath to scream. He advanced, cutting off her terrified cry
with a gloved hand.

Even though she knew Mickey and Jeb were dead, her mind went
blank with panic. She struggled to free herself, kicking her legs as a pair of
strong arms engulfed her upper body. Another man appeared before her, holding
his palm up. He was dressed in army fatigues, with a mask and helmet.

They were soldiers.

She stopped fighting, realizing that these men were here to
help. Finally—a rescue crew had arrived.

The first soldier removed his mask to speak. “Where are the
convicts?”

“They’re gone,” she said, moistening her lips. “Dead.”

“All of them?”

“Well, no. Garrett is in the semi.”

Two more men climbed down from above. They had their own rope
system, which appeared very efficient.

“Stay with her,” the first soldier said, gesturing for the
others to follow him toward the demolished semi.

It dawned on her that they were going to apprehend Garrett.

“You don’t understand,” she called after them, her pulse
racing. The second soldier had a firm grip on her upper arm. “Let me go!”

“We’re here to help, ma’am.”

“It’s not what you think! He saved my life.”

“Just stay calm.”

Lauren tried to jerk her arm out of his grasp, but he held
tight. “Garrett!” she screamed, uncertain how he’d react to a group of military
men invading his sleep space. He might have another flashback episode.

“Ma’am—”

“He hasn’t done anything wrong!”

“We’ll get it all sorted out.”

“Damn you,” she said, elbowing him in the stomach.

The soldier took her to the ground and wrenched her arms behind
her back, securing her wrists with some kind of zip tie. It cut into her skin
cruelly and she cried out, watching helplessly as the other men dragged Garrett
from the semi.

He didn’t fight. Or maybe they didn’t give him the opportunity.
Cuffing him with the same technique, soldiers flanked him on either side and
lifted him to his feet, urging him forward.

“He has a gunshot wound,” she sobbed. “You’re hurting him.”

When Garrett saw Lauren on the ground, he halted in his tracks.
“Let her up,” he said. “She’s the medic. Untie her.”

Whatever the soldiers had been prepared for, this wasn’t it.
While they wrestled with Garrett and Lauren, Penny came out of the RV, carrying
Cruz. Cadence followed close behind. The soldiers waited for her to approach,
turning on their flashlights.

“Miss Sandoval?”

“Yes,” Penny said, squinting at the brightness.

“Your father sent us for you.”

Her shoulders sagged with relief. “Thank God.”

* * *

T
HE
RESCUE
EFFORTS
took all night.

Penny paced the area in front of the RV with Cruz, anxious to
see her father. She didn’t know if he was angry with her for using his name and
influence. What would he think of Cruz? The last time they’d spoken, he’d called
her a disgrace.

She kissed the baby’s head reassuringly. They were a package
deal now. If her father didn’t accept them both, she’d make new living
arrangements. Striking out on her own would be difficult, but she’d manage.

Somehow.

The soldiers had released Lauren’s wrists immediately. Garrett
remained bound and guarded, as if they thought he might try to escape. Although
Penny and Lauren had explained the situation, the national guardsmen claimed
they were following protocol. Garrett was a dangerous criminal who had killed
two men. His fate was out of their hands.

Rather than freeing the survivors from the top of the
structure, the rescue crew created a safer escape route down below. They cleared
a space outside the collapsed wall and started drilling a large hole in the
concrete. By dawn, they’d broken through the south side. Sam and Don were taken
out first, and airlifted to a nearby hospital.

Cadence cried because she couldn’t go with her grandpa.

Penny clutched Cruz to her chest as she was escorted from the
rubble, refusing to let anyone else hold him. The early-morning sunshine stung
her eyes. Squinting, she continued to move forward, into the light.

She’d been trapped in a hellhole for nearly a week. Oddly, she
felt no joy upon coming out. Her strength was sapped.

Guided by the soldiers, she made her way across a patch of
uneven ground, toward a large group of people. The stench of gasoline fires and
dead bodies burned her nostrils. Crashed cars crowded the edges of her vision.
Cruz started wailing, already overwhelmed by the strangeness of the outside
world.

She covered his face with the blanket, shushing him gently. As
she got closer, a man stepped out of the crowd. Her father.

“Mija,”
he said, grasping her
shoulders.
My daughter
. He stared at her for a long
moment, seeming amazed she was alive.

Penny burst into tears.

He pulled her into his arms, making the same sound she’d used
to comfort Cruz. For some reason, that made her cry harder. Now that she was a
parent, she had a different understanding of their last conversation. Her father
wanted the best for her. When she was in pain, he was in pain.

“¿Quién es?”
he asked, looking down
at the bundle she was carrying.

She tucked back the blanket. “This is Cruz.”

“Cruz,” he repeated, smiling a little. “He’s beautiful.”

Penny let out another sob. “I thought you’d—hate him.”

His mouth twisted with regret. “No,” he said, his voice
breaking. “I made a mistake. These past several days, I’ve prayed for the chance
to see you again. I prayed for
my
baby girl to be
alive, so I could say I’m sorry.”

“You’re not ashamed of us?”

“No,
mija.
I’m ashamed of
myself.”

Cruz continued to wail, and so did Penny, surrendering to her
emotions. When her tears dried up, she gave her father another hug, and he led
her to a military-style vehicle. She climbed inside with Cruz. Owen was sitting
there.

He was handcuffed, like Garrett.

Penny knew he’d been watching them. His feelings were written
all over his face. Although he tried to rub his cheek against his shirt, there
was a telltale track of moisture running from his jaw to his tattooed neck.

“Can they remove his cuffs?” she asked.

With a wave of his hand, her father granted the request. After
a soldier unlocked him, Owen winced and moved his arms forward, rubbing his
chafed wrists. “Thank you,” he said, looking from Penny to her father.

“Thank
you,
” her father
replied.

“It was nothing.”

“It was everything,” Jorge said. “How can I repay you?”

“You can’t,” Owen said simply.

Her father studied Owen with begrudging respect. He seemed
floored by the fact that he owed a debt of gratitude to a young man with a
swastika mark on his hand. “Very well,” he said, dropping the subject.

The driver started the engine and they were off, cruising over
battered terrain. When Cruz continued to fuss, Penny gave her father an
apologetic glance. “I need to feed him,” she said, unbuttoning her top.

He cleared his throat. “Oh.” Appearing uncharacteristically
flustered, he turned his head to give her privacy.

She put the baby to her breast, draping the blanket over her
shoulder for modesty. When he started nursing, she felt some of her tension ebb
away. Owen, who had gotten used to this activity, didn’t bother to avert his
gaze. His eyes met hers and they exchanged a smile, sharing the intimate
moment.

Her father loved her, and he might come to love her child. But
her connection with Owen was unique. He’d brought Cruz into the world. That was
special. They’d forged a strong bond based on unconditional acceptance.

She reached out to squeeze Owen’s hand. He grasped hers
tightly. Her father noticed, and said nothing, but she sensed his disapproval.
Perhaps he thought Owen was good enough to save his daughter’s life, but not to
hold her hand.

* * *

L
AUREN
RODE
IN
a Humvee
with Cadence and Garrett.

It had been a rough night. After interrogating her for hours,
the National Guard troops had collected evidence, taken photographs and bagged
the bodies.

She prayed that Garrett wouldn’t get more prison time for what
he’d done. On the positive side, the soldiers had brought food and medical
supplies. She was able to make Sam and Don more comfortable while they
waited.

The army medic agreed that Don’s leg couldn’t be saved, which
was disappointing. But he also marveled at Sam’s recovery, and was amazed by
some of the techniques Lauren had used to keep her patients alive.

Sam woke up once more during the night, again asking for
Melissa. He had no recollection of finding her ashes. He knew that he was in San
Diego, and he recognized Lauren. But he couldn’t remember that his girlfriend
was dead.

It was heartbreaking. She didn’t offer the information, because
she wasn’t sure how it would affect him.

Cadence had spoken with her mother and father on a satellite
phone. Both parents had thanked Lauren profusely, their voices thick with
emotion. They’d arranged to pick up the girl at the National Guard station.

In the Humvee, Lauren spoke with her mother, as well.

“What happened?” Hillary asked. “I’ve been worried sick.”

She glanced at Garrett, over the top of Cadence’s head. He
arched an amused brow, as if he could hear her mother’s shrewish voice. “I’m
fine. I was just...working.”

“Working?”

“Yes. A lot of people needed help after the earthquake.”

“You couldn’t call?”

“Phone service has been out.”

“Are you hurt?”

Lauren rubbed her eyes. “No, Mom. I’m just tired. My
coworker...Joe...didn’t make it.”

Her mother sucked in a sharp breath. “Joe, with the new
baby?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, Lauren. That’s terrible.”

“I have to notify his wife.”

“She’ll be devastated.”

“Yes,” she said dully.

“Call me right back.”

“I’ll try.”

“Okay,” she said. “I love you, Laurie.”

Her mother hadn’t called her Laurie in ages. Not since the
summer she’d broken her ankle running track in high school. Hillary had waited
on her hand and foot while she’d healed. It occurred to her that she’d chosen
her career path based on that experience. “I love you, too, Mommy,” she choked
out, and hung up.

When she looked again, Garrett was still watching her. She
closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to pull herself together.
Then she dialed the ambulance service number. It was temporarily
unavailable.

Her stomach in knots, she handed the phone back to the soldier
who’d let her use it. They arrived at the station a few minutes later. She
squinted as she exited the vehicle, still sensitive to the bright sunlight.

Lauren was ordered to stay at the station for another round of
interrogations. “Where will Garrett be taken?”

“Santee Lakes,” the soldier replied. “The prison sustained only
minor damage. Both inmates will be returned shortly.”

“They’re injured,” she said, her temper rising.

“Yes, ma’am. We’ve got our hands full with civilian injuries.
I’m sure they’ll get the care they need at the facility.”

What bullshit.

“You don’t want to question him again?”

“If we do, he’s not going anywhere.”

Two soldiers led Garrett away to a smaller vehicle. Owen was
already seated in the back. They hadn’t even offered her the chance to say
goodbye. “Excuse me,” she said, striding forward. “Can you give us a
minute?”

Penny and her father were standing near the vehicle. Mayor
Sandoval nodded his permission, and the soldiers retreated a few steps. Lauren
couldn’t believe that Penny was related to Jorge Sandoval, a staunchly religious
conservative. Now she understood why the family had tried so hard to keep her
pregnancy under wraps.