Badlands (16 page)

“This part of town floods during the rainy season,” Owen explained. “It used to be the resort area.”

Beyond the graveyard of sunken refuse was the sea. She finally got a full picture of the awe-inspiring expanse. It stretched many miles in every direction. At sunset, golden light gleamed across its flat surface, beckoning swimmers to take a dip—if they could ignore the reek of dead fish and other signs of decay. Murky puddles surrounded the debris, glimmering with colors not seen in nature, and thick with floating algae.

There was something beautiful and horrible about the sight. Never had she witnessed such a devastating display of neglect. The largest body of water in California, sitting in the middle of the desert, gone to waste.

Shane parked the Jeep next to the remains of an old yacht club. He backed the trailer into a space between two crumbling concrete walls, close to the shore. Hopping out, he unhitched it, leaving the boat hidden amongst the rubble.

She wasn’t sure why he’d bothered, but his plans were a mystery to her. Maybe the boat was his getaway vehicle.

From there, he drove back into the main part of town and stopped at what appeared to be a deserted motel. Apparently it was open for business. Shane turned off the engine and got out, preparing to rent a room.

“Stay cool,” he warned Owen. “I don’t want to have to shoot this guy.”

She watched him go inside, her stomach roiling. “You think he’d do it?”

“In a heartbeat.”

“What about us? Are we safe with him?”

A muscle in Owen’s jaw flexed. “He can’t collect the ransom if he hurts you.”

Owen didn’t say
he
would escape Shane’s wrath. Brother or no, Owen was still dispensable. Shane didn’t care about him. He only cared about the money. If the exchange went wrong, they’d both be dispensable.

Bombay Beach, although sparsely populated, was the kind of place where people looked the other way. Its residents seemed downtrodden and tight-lipped. The faces they’d passed were weathered from sun and age. They’d find no saviors here. Shane could probably drive down the middle of town, shooting his gun in the air, and no one would call the police.

He came out of the office with a key. She doubted he’d had to show ID to get it. He moved the Jeep and parked in front of the hotel room. Exiting the vehicle, he gestured for Owen and Penny to follow. He unlocked the hotel room for them.

The dilapidated interior came as no surprise. A double bed sat in the corner, next to a lamp without a shade. The orange-striped wallpaper hurt her eyes. There was a battered-looking desk with a lumpy armchair.

After a cursory inspection of the bathroom, Shane directed them inside. Penny shuffled forward with Owen, noting that the fixtures were outdated but clean. There was a shower stall, a toilet and a sink. No window to escape through.

Shane grabbed the plastic bag of clothes from the Jeep. After he rifled through the contents, he tossed the bag in the tub. Then he retrieved a few pillows and blankets from the bed. He came back and dumped them on the bathroom floor.

“Nighty-night,” he said.

“Are you going to unlock the cuffs?” Owen asked.

“No,” Shane said with a smirk. “I’m going to barricade this door, crank up the TV and get drunk. You two have fun.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

O
WEN
STAYED
QUIET
, listening to Shane move furniture around the room.

It sounded as if he’d upended the desk and leaned its corner against the bathroom door, balancing there. Owen didn’t want to open the door and get crushed to test the theory. It didn’t lock from the inside.

A few seconds later, the television turned on at high volume. There was no one in the motel to complain.

He turned to Penny, apologetic.

She seemed annoyed by their entrapment, but not horrified. The air-conditioning whirred into action, sending cool blasts through the vent. Penny sat down on the closed lid of the toilet and used her free hand to search the bag of clothes. He took a seat across from her, on the edge of the tub.

“Look what I have,” she said. “Toothpaste!”

He smiled at her enthusiasm. “Any deodorant?”

“No. There’s a toothbrush, a little bottle of shampoo and a square of soap.” After setting those items on the sink, she removed a box of bandage strips and a tube of antibiotic ointment. “These will come in handy.”

“What else?”

She pulled out an old checkered dress. “These are for you,” she said, passing him a bundle of cotton briefs and athletic socks.

He accepted the hand-me-downs, frowning.

“Your dad’s?”

“Yes.”

She cocked her head to one side, her hair a tangled curtain. “Tell me something good about him.”

“I already did.”

“You only have one positive memory?”

He shrugged, looking away. Talking about his father made him uncomfortable. Even his pleasant childhood experiences were tainted by dysfunction. Decent people came from decent families, like hers.

“Surely he had his finer points.”

“He was loyal,” Owen said finally. “He didn’t cheat on my mother.”

“That’s nice,” she said, her mouth softening.

“He cheated everyone but her.”

She laughed, as if this was a joke. “Maybe you’ll take after him and be faithful to one woman forever.”

Owen nodded. It was the only way he’d follow his father’s footsteps.

“Kids from lasting marriages tend to have those kinds of relationships themselves. Did you know that?”

“No.”

She waited for a moment, seeming to expect more from the conversation. He realized he was giving his usual monosyllable answers and “sharing very little.” In his defense, the topic was unpleasant. His parents had loved each other, or thought they’d loved each other. But they hadn’t stayed together for the right reasons.

The situation was awkward, as well. He and Penny were alone together in a tiny bathroom, without Shane’s interference or Cruz acting as a buffer between them. There was no way for him to maintain a polite distance.

“I wish he hadn’t been faithful,” he said in a hoarse voice.

“Why?”

“If he’d been a horrible person all of the time, instead of most of the time, maybe she could have found the strength to leave him.”

“It’s not about strength.”

“What’s it about?”

“Mental health, usually. And self-confidence, which gets chipped away little by little, year by year.”

He recognized the truth in this. His mother had suffered long periods of depression, catatonic states. She blamed herself for everything. She would instigate arguments with his father, as if the anticipation of violence was more unbearable than the abuse itself. “I haven’t been a good son to her.”

“Why?”

“I couldn’t help her, so I...retreated.”

“Maybe she needed to help herself.”

“Maybe she did,” he said, considering the possibility. His mother had taken steps to get sober on her own. She hadn’t been able to do it until his father was out of the picture, but Owen was still proud of her.

“I’ve felt the same way,” she said. “Like I haven’t been a good daughter.”

“Why?”

“My parents were crushed when they found out I was pregnant. They wanted me to go to college and be somebody important.”

“You did go to college. And you are somebody.”

“I’m not the person they hoped I’d be. I don’t share their religious beliefs or fit in with their social circle. I’m a disappointment.”

“No. They’re not disappointed.”

“How do you know?”

“I saw it in their faces at your graduation.”

“They love me and Cruz,” she said, conceding his point. “And I appreciate their support, but it comes at a cost. They expect me to attend political events and date upstanding young men from the country club. I want to make my own decisions and be with whoever I like.”

Him. She meant him. Pleasure tingled over his skin, along with a healthy dose of unease. There were no more walls between them, no contracts to hide behind. He didn’t know how he was going to keep his hands off her. He was handcuffed
to
her.

“I think I’ll shower.”

Oh, God.

“I’m hideous,” she said, touching her tangled hair. “I can’t even look at myself in the mirror.”

He studied her for signs of imperfection. She had streaks of dirt on her face and knots in her hair, but she was still gorgeous. Her knees were scraped, which concerned him. While he watched, she took off one of the boots she was wearing, wincing in pain.

“Let me,” he said, grasping her ankle. He used his right hand unconsciously, which jerked her left hand along for the ride.

“We’re going to have to coordinate movements.”

Lifting her foot to his thigh, he peeled away the black dress sock. She had several blisters, flattened and raw. He removed the other boot and sock, finding her left foot in the same condition. “You need Band-Aids.”

“After I shower.”

“Maybe you should take a bath,” he said. A shower would be torture. He’d have to stand outside the beveled glass door with his wrist connected to hers, watching water stream down her naked body. “You can soak your muscles.”

“That sounds heavenly, actually.”

He let go of her foot and moved out of the way while she inspected the tub. Deeming it acceptable, she turned on the water and plugged the drain. Soon the room thickened with steam. “I should have rinsed off first.”

“Why?”

“I’m going to be sitting in filthy water.”

“Getting clean before you bathe kind of defeats the purpose, don’t you think?”

“Yes, but I’ve never been this dirty before.”

“You can rinse off after.”

The tub was already half full, so she didn’t argue. He wondered if she was nervous, too. She knelt and dipped her hand into the water, testing its temperature.

“Warm enough?”

“Yes.”

“How are we going to do this?”

She studied the cramped space. “You can sit there, next to the tub. I’ll get in and let my arm rest on the rim.”

He hadn’t been thinking that far ahead. His mind was stuck on the prebathing process. What should he do while she took off her clothes? He swallowed hard as she shut off the water. Setting a towel on the sink, she placed the toiletries inside the tub and adjusted the glass doors. Then she raised her hands to undo the tie at her neck. When the bodice of her dress fell away, she clutched it to her chest.

Owen couldn’t turn around politely because that would make it more difficult for her to move her arms. Offering to help would just tangle their limbs together, and he wasn’t adept with female garments.

He stared at the floor, his throat working in agitation.

Penny abandoned modesty and let go of her dress, reaching behind her back. His right hand followed. He smothered a moan as his knuckles skimmed her bare skin. She released the clasp of her strapless bra. It didn’t fall down, so he figured the lingerie was sort of...molded to her body. Now she needed only to push off the loosened clothing, along with her panties, and climb in the tub.

He clapped his free hand over his eyes, not trusting himself to avoid temptation.

She laughed softly at this action, but maybe it put her at ease, because she finished undressing. When he sensed her weight shift, he shuffled a little closer. The water splashed as she stepped into the stall. She slid the door closed, leaving space for their cuffed wrists. He dropped his hand and opened his eyes, assuming it was safe.

Mistake.

The beveled glass blurred her image like an old oil painting. Even so, the sight of her naked form was highly erotic. He could make out the shape of her beautiful breasts, full and lush with dusky peaks.

Groaning, he looked away.

“Can you see me?” she asked.

“I don’t... I can’t...”

“You can’t what?”

“I can’t answer that.”

With another low laugh, she sank into the water, forcing him to sit down on the floor. “Oh, my God, this feels good.”

Gaze averted, he searched for an accommodating position. He couldn’t twist around, so he ended up sitting cross-legged and facing the wall, his right elbow bent and his hand gripping the shower door. The urge to glance sideways, through the narrow opening, was hard to resist. He turned his head and stared at the sink cabinet until his eyeballs burned.

The water sloshed gently as she shifted, making a sound of pleasure. He tried not to think about her bare breasts, wet and round and bobbing above the surface, but it was a lost cause. He pictured her soaping them generously, her mouth a sexy moue, dark nipples visible beneath the frothy bubbles.

Did women even wash their breasts like that, outside of porno movies? He lathered his armpits, not his pecs, but girls were probably more fastidious than guys.

Focus on something else
.

“I’m sorry about Shane,” he said, clearing his throat. “He’s a jerk.

“Has he always been that way?”

“Pretty much.”

Penny squeezed his hand and let it go. “I have to wash my hair.”

He listened as she slid lower into the tub, soaking her head. Then she came back up, water streaming from her hair. Her wet hands brushed his as she opened the shampoo bottle, pouring the liquid into her palm. A light floral fragrance tickled his nostrils, accompanied by the scrunching sound of bubbles. When she submerged to rinse, her left arm slipped, pulling his hand into the stall.

The awkward angle wrenched his wrist. He aligned his body toward hers with a wince and accidentally pushed the shower door open a little more. She sat up again, giving him an unfettered view of her soap-slick curves.

“Sorry,” she gasped, returning her left hand to the rim of the tub.

Incapable of speech, he struggled to move his gaze from her chest. Heat suffused his face and neck, climbing to the roots of his hair. He turned his head and studied the toilet as if it contained the mysteries of the universe.

Penny finished rinsing and stayed still for a few minutes. Her inactivity didn’t calm his raging hormones or erase the Playmate-worthy visual she’d just treated him to. It danced inside his skull, sending a rush of blood to his groin.

“How old is your brother’s son?” she asked.

“Eleven.”

“He’s the one you visit in Salton City?”

“Yes.”

“You never told me his mother was a...dancer.”

It wasn’t the sort of information he’d volunteer in passing.

“Have you ever been to a strip club?”

“No.”

“You sound strange.”

“Strange?”

“Gruff.”

He adjusted his straining fly, unsure what to say. “I’m aroused.” Why hide the obvious? His hard-on wasn’t going away.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not really.”

“It hurts me,” she said, shifting her legs.

He froze. “It does?”

“It’s like a throbbing ache.”

Was she toying with him? Next she’d be complaining about how stiff her nipples were. His cock swelled harder, demanding to give them both satisfaction.

“I want you to touch me...but you never do.”

“You think I don’t want to?”

“Do you?”

“Yes,” he ground out.

“Since when?”

“Forever.”

“After the earthquake?”

“Yes.” He’d been a sick bastard, even then.

“What’s stopping you?”

“I already told you.”

“What about before you took the job? That night we danced at Sam’s wedding, I practically handed you my panties.”

He flinched at the exaggeration. Had she, really? He couldn’t believe he’d been so dense. “I had no idea you were interested.”

“If you had, would you have acted on it?”

“No.”

“Because you think I’m too good for you?”

Now that he’d had a chance to reflect, he understood her annoyance. She didn’t appreciate him making decisions for her, like her father always did. And maybe Owen had been hiding behind excuses. “You are, but that’s not the only reason.”