Badlands. Jill Sorenson

events made some people stronger. Owen had been a hero during the earthquake. He’d emerged from prison a reformed man. At his national park job, he’d proven himself again by rushing to help a female ranger in trouble. These experiences had inspired him to pursue a career in rescue work. He was naturally courageous.

      Penny wasn’t.

      She’d had the opposite reaction to trauma, retreating from any hint of danger. Playing it safe was more her style. She didn’t know how she’d drummed up the nerve to hit a man over the head with a rock. If not for the blood under her fingernails, she’d have suspected the episode was just another bad dream.

      “I’m hungry,” Cruz whispered.

      Penny gave him a drink of water. It was the only thing she had.

      “When can we leave?”

      “Soon.”

      “What happened to Owen?”

      She swallowed hard, unable to answer without breaking down. Although she had mixed feelings about prayer, she said a silent plea in her desperation, begging God to spare them.

      “I’m bored,” Cruz said.

      “You don’t like this cave?”

      “I want to see the rest of it.”

      “I bet there are bats.”

      His brown eyes lit up with curiosity. He had clay dust in his hair and on his lashes, giving him an angelic look. “Where?”

      Penny was about to answer when she heard a man calling her name. He sounded frantic. He sounded like...Owen.

      Cruz tried to respond, but she clapped her palm over his mouth. This might be a trick to draw them out. She also didn’t trust her ears. She’d seen Owen’s lifeless body. Heart racing, she stared at the narrow entrance, half expecting a zombie hand to reach through.

      “Penny,” he shouted, closer now. “Cruz?”

      She released her grip on Cruz, trembling with emotion. “Owen?”

      “Where are you?”

      “Over here!” She scrambled toward the opening and stuck her arm out, waving to get his attention.

      Then he was right there with her. The hand that clasped hers wasn’t ghostly pale or black-veined. It was dirty and strong and vibrant. His skin was lightly tanned, not quite as dark as hers or Cruz’s. She wept at the sight and feel of him.

      He was alive! She didn’t care how. He was alive.

      Owen couldn’t fit through the narrow space, so she climbed out to greet him. With a strangled sob, she threw her arms around his neck. His stiff shoulders betrayed his discomfort; he’d always reacted strangely to touch.

      Penny had been friends with Owen since he’d gotten out of prison. She’d stayed in contact with all of the earthquake survivors. They exchanged emails and shared Facebook photos. She’d taken Cruz to visit Owen a few times in Sierra National Park. The three of them had a special connection. He seemed to enjoy their company as much as they enjoyed his. Penny cherished every moment with him.

      Over the years, Owen had gained confidence. He no longer flinched at a simple handshake, but he still avoided overt displays of affection. She didn’t think he was repulsed by the feel of her body against his. There was something else going on.

      His behavior reminded her of an incident from her childhood. Their dog, Blanca, had run away on a rainy day, only to be captured and returned by a neighbor. Her mother had tried to thank the man with a hug, but he’d been wet and dirty, too polite to soil her clothes.

      That was Owen, to a T.

      She knew he’d had a dysfunctional home life. She knew he’d done things he regretted, in and out of prison. Maybe her father had told him, in no uncertain terms, that he wasn’t good enough for her.

      “I thought you were dead,” she said, for his ears only.

      “Shh,” he said, patting her hair. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

      When Cruz joined them, she released Owen, wiping the tears from her cheeks. He hugged her son with ease, proving his self-consciousness was reserved for grown-ups. Perhaps her, in particular.

      A groan emitted from the shadows behind Owen. She froze, peering into the dark. He turned and directed his flashlight toward the sound. She could only guess that he’d harmed someone in order to break free.

      “We have to go now,” Owen said.

      She gathered her vest and water, following as he led them back to the main tunnel. Owen took Cruz by the hand and skirted him around a prone figure on the ground. It was a semiconscious man, his face splattered with blood.

      “Who’s that?” Cruz asked.

      “A bad guy,” Owen replied.

      “Did you hit him?”

      “Yes.”

      “You must hit hard.”

      Penny hurried past him, cringing. They headed into the deep recesses of the cave, traveling a serpentine path.

      “Is there another way out?” Owen asked.

      She thought he knew where he was going. “I didn’t check.”

      He stopped, considering. “They’re going to come looking for that guy. If we don’t find an exit soon, we’ll return to your safe spot.”

      “You can’t fit there.”

      “That’s okay,” he said, showing her the gun he had tucked into his waistband.

      Penny stared at the weapon in dismay. She felt faint, as if she might forget to breathe and pass out from fear. Five minutes ago, she’d thought Owen was gone for good. Now they were together, but they weren’t safe. The idea of him getting into a shoot-out and dying for them made her chest ache.

      “Don’t risk your life again,” she whispered. “If it comes to that, surrender.”

      He nodded his agreement. Then he continued forward, into the dark.

      * * *

      AROUND THE NEXT CORNER, natural light beckoned.

      The tunnel emptied into a large room with an opening at one end. It was exactly what Owen had been hoping for. Scrambling toward the narrow passageway, he got down on his hands and knees, ducking his head out. The area was deserted. They were on the opposite side of the mud cave, nowhere near the other entrance. A steep slope downhill could pose a challenge for Penny and Cruz, but it wasn’t impossible. He’d sooner navigate rocky, crumbling terrain than tangle with members of Shane’s crew.

      “How does it look?” Penny asked.

      “Like freedom,” he said, straightening.

      He was embarrassed by his reaction to Penny’s earlier embrace, and by the tears that clogged his throat now. It had always been this way with her. Even casual hugs from friends made him uneasy, but he could handle it. He couldn’t handle his feelings for her. They were too intense, too threatening to his self-control. Whenever she got close to him, he felt as if he was on the edge of something, ready to fall over. Her touch affected him on a deeper level, reaching the places he was afraid to access.

      Instead of urging Penny and Cruz through the opening, he hesitated. They might be spotted as they fled the area. He needed to buy them a little more time. “I have to create a diversion so we can get away without being followed.”

      Penny gave him a curious look. Her eye makeup from last night was smudged, her pretty face streaked with dirt. “How?”

      He had an idea, but he couldn’t explain it with Cruz listening. So he gave her a watered-down version. “I’ll shoot a hole in the tunnel. While the guys come in to see what happened, we’ll climb out.”

      “Okay,”