him to be nice and mind his manners, but she also let him run wild when he needed to. She didn’t try to smother his natural rambunctiousness or dole out harsh punishments. Owen respected Penny for raising Cruz with a gentle hand. It was clear the boy had never been mistreated in any way.
Cruz was so unlike how Owen had been at this age. Affectionate and expressive, quick to cry or laugh. Unselfconscious, unafraid. The way a child should be. Owen’s gaze met Penny’s over the top of the boy’s head. He saw some of the same qualities in her.
The fact that Cruz cared so much about Owen, an employee, was deeply humbling. His little-boy empathy damn near broke Owen’s heart. He’d be devastated if Cruz got hurt on his watch. And he wanted to tear Shane apart, limb by limb, for playing a role in this fiasco.
Owen couldn’t go back in time to reverse the abuse he’d endured, or to erase the wrongs he’d done. He might not be able to heal his damaged soul or overcome his past. But if he could protect another child from harm, it would be a step toward salvation. If he could keep Penny safe, he could live with himself.
The alternative was impossible to fathom.
Cruz kissed his cheek before returning to Penny. The simple gesture caused pressure to build behind Owen’s eyes. He took a deep breath, blinking the tears away. Shane noticed this exchange and issued a silent warning in the rearview mirror.
Owen understood the danger he was in. He had no value to the kidnappers. Sandoval wouldn’t pay for his safe return. He was a liability. If he tried to defend Penny or Cruz, they’d probably kill him.
He wondered what Shane planned to do with him. They hadn’t seen each other in eight years. Shane talked to their mother on a regular basis, and she sent him monthly care packages, but he hadn’t stayed in communication with anyone else from the outside world. That included his own son, Jamie.
Owen studied the interior of the Cadillac, his heart pounding. It had master locks, so Penny couldn’t open her door. The fire alarm had caused enough chaos to mask the kidnapping, but the security cameras in front of the convention center would show footage of the crime. There was a tracking device inside the car.
Shane pulled off the freeway, glancing in the rearview mirror. He seemed confident that they weren’t being followed. They continued to an industrial area, where he parked in a deserted lot next to a black SUV.
“Is this the hospital?” Cruz asked.
“No,” Penny said.
“Where are we?”
“Shh.”
Shane got out and opened her door. In addition to the half mask covering the lower part of his face, he wore a black handkerchief like a headband. His blond hair was shaggy. He was still lean, but he looked taller, and he’d put on weight. Those powerful shoulders were straight from the exercise yard.
He gestured toward the SUV, mock-chivalrous. “Your chariot awaits.”
Penny turned to Owen for approval. He nodded for her to go ahead. She exited the car with Cruz and glanced around the empty parking lot. If they’d been followed, the police would have intervened already. But no shouts to halt rang out across the dark night. No officers swarmed the area, and no helicopter hovered overhead.
“Hurry up, princess,” Shane said. “We don’t have all night.”
Penny couldn’t run away in high heels with Cruz in tow; she got in the SUV. Dirk dragged Owen out of the Cadillac and shoved him into the backseat with her, climbing in after. She scooted over and put Cruz on her lap to make room. As discreetly as possible, she tried to lift the door handle on the opposite side of the vehicle.
It didn’t budge.
Shane left Keshawn Jones handcuffed in the Cadillac and got behind the wheel of the SUV. Starting the engine, he drove out from the parking lot and headed east, away from downtown San Diego.
It was an uncomfortable ride. There wasn’t enough room in the backseat. Owen was smashed against Penny’s side. Cruz asked about the hospital again, but he sounded sleepy. She sang him Spanish lullabies in a soft voice, rocking him until he drifted off.
At some point, her son would wake up and realize they weren’t going to the hospital. He’d wonder what was happening and get upset. Owen wasn’t looking forward to the moment when reality struck.
He sat motionless and silent, his body thrumming with tension.
About twenty minutes later, Shane stopped by the side of the road. “Give me his phone,” he said, reaching into the backseat.
Dirk located Owen’s cell phone and passed it forward.
“Did you turn the tracking off?”
“Yes.”
“You’re going to talk to Sandoval,” Shane said to Owen. “Tell him we want two million in a large duffel bag, unmarked. He has to bring it alone, no cops. We’ll call back tomorrow with more instructions.”
Owen couldn’t refuse. He didn’t have a choice.
Shane found Sandoval’s number in Owen’s list of contacts and pressed the button. Then he handed the phone back to Dirk, who held it close enough for Owen to speak into.
Jorge Sandoval answered with his own demand: “Where are you?”
Shane shook his head. No details.
“I’m with Penny and Cruz,” Owen said.
“Put her on.”
Shane nodded, allowing it. Dirk turned the phone toward Penny. “Daddy,” she said in a tremulous voice. “Estamos bien.”
It meant “we’re okay,” but Shane didn’t know that. He made a sharp gesture across his throat. Dirk moved the phone back to Owen, who repeated their requests. Her father gave an immediate agreement, as calm and diplomatic as ever. Dirk ended the call.
Shane pointed a menacing finger at Penny. “You speak English or I’ll cut your pretty little tongue out.”
Owen’s muscles went taut. He wanted to fly across the seat and attack his brother with his teeth, to smash his forehead against Shane’s until they were both unconscious. But such an attempt would only result in him getting tased or beaten, and Penny would be no better off. So he curbed his fury and stayed still.
“Do you understand?”
“Yes,” her mouth said. Her eyes said fuck you.
“What did she say?” Shane asked Owen.
“She said ‘we’re okay.’”
Shane turned around and started the engine again, muttering something about Mexicans. He continued to head east, toward the desert.
Owen noted the road signs and guessed their destination: The Badlands. It was a vast expanse of nothingness near Salton City, where they’d grown up. There were no witnesses and a thousand places to hide. Sandoval’s security team would have a hard time finding them out here in the tumbleweeds. Cell phone service was spotty, rescue was unlikely, and an organized search effort would be difficult.
Owen’s spirits sank lower with every mile. People who disappeared in the deep desert never came back. Shane had chosen this desolate place for a reason.
He hooked a right on the S-22, a winding highway between the Salton Sea and the U.S.–Mexico border. Dozens of sandy dirt roads led south, toward rocky hills, agave groves and mud caves. It wasn’t the kind of terrain you wanted to get lost in. On an average August day, the heat was unbearable.
They traveled far from the main road, past the last vestiges of civilization, beyond the dirt roads. Few backcountry hikers would brave the late summer temperatures in the sun-ravaged badlands. Human traffickers and drug smugglers were active at night, but seldom seen. Even the border patrol didn’t have the resources to cover this entire area. Its harsh conditions were deterrent enough for most criminals.
Owen