Badlands. Jill Sorenson

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      CHAPTER SIX

      “WHAT THE FUCK is going on in there?”

      Shane released the talk button, listening for a response from Brett. Still nothing. Jesus. When he’d told Brett to shoot Owen in the foot, he’d been bluffing! He never thought Brett would actually do it. He’d just wanted to ensure Owen’s cooperation. Maybe Brett had gotten trigger-happy. He was young and green and eager.

      Shane didn’t want to wait for Dirk and Roach to return to the entrance. “I’m heading inside,” he said to Dirk on the radio. He turned on his flashlight and made his way through the narrow passageway, taking care not to bump his head or scrape his elbows. He could barely fit through the tight squeezes.

      He should have taken Owen through the tunnel instead of Brett. Shane didn’t trust Dirk—he was an arrogant bastard. Shane didn’t trust himself, either. He couldn’t shoot a family member. Owen clearly had feelings for this girl and her kid, which complicated the situation. Putting a gun to his brother’s head had made Shane’s flesh crawl as if a thousand centipedes had walked over his skin.

      He hoped Owen wasn’t dead. Their mother would be devastated. She already thought Shane was responsible for ruining her life and for messing up Owen’s. She’d been a shell of a person since they’d both gone to prison.

      Fuck.

      He couldn’t get Brett to answer on the walkie-talkie, so he gave up and used a loud voice, calling out his name every few minutes. When Shane reached a fork in the path, he paused, pointing the beam of his flashlight in both directions. There was a dark, wet trail on the right, along with the telltale drag marks of a person with an injured limb.

      Heart racing, Shane drew his gun from the back of his pants. “Owen!”

      “Over here,” Brett shouted.

      Shane stepped around the soaked dirt and continued through the tunnel. Brett was around the corner, sitting with his back to the wall. His face was smeared with blood and dust. He’d removed his white T-shirt and tied it around his boot. The effect was cartoonish, like a giant bandaged foot.

      “Where are they?” Shane asked.

      Brett pointed into the dark. “I think they went that way.”

      “How far?”

      “I don’t know.”

      Shane stared down the twisted passage in disbelief. “I told you to shoot him in the foot,” he said, even though he hadn’t meant it. “Not yourself!”

      “He shot me,” Brett mumbled.

      “What?”

      “He took the gun and knocked me out. Then he came back and shot me.”

      No wonder Brett’s face was mangled. On second glance, his nose appeared to be broken.

      The radio at his belt sounded. “We’re at the front of the cave,” Dirk said. “Do you want us to come in?”

      Shane didn’t answer right away. He squinted at Brett, weighing his options. The shirt wrapped around his boot was soaked with blood. Shane didn’t think he’d die in the next few hours, but he needed immediate medical treatment, and they were out in the middle of nowhere. Driving him to the emergency room would take all day. More importantly, hospitals reported gunshot wounds. His contact, Ace, would probably tell him to eliminate this problem right here, rather than risking capture.

      Brett wasn’t so naive that he couldn’t see the wheels turning in Shane’s mind. Perhaps getting shot had introduced him to cold, hard reality. He looked terrified and trapped, writhing in agony. But he didn’t cry or beg. He would go out like a man.

      After a moment of indecision, Shane let him live. Not because he’d shown a hint of courage, but because Brett reminded him of Owen. The kid had tagged along with his good-for-nothing brother and ended up in a world of hurt.

      Explaining the second shot to Dirk would have been tricky, also.

      “Yeah, come in,” Shane said into the radio. “We’re on the right side.”

      Brett slumped against the dirt wall, relieved.

      “How did he take your gun?”

      “I don’t know. He just...attacked me.”

      “Did you try to shoot him?”

      “I didn’t get the chance.”

      “You had the flashlight,” Shane explained. “He was in front of you.”

      “He said something about bats,” Brett said, panting. His forehead was dotted with sweat. “I looked up for a second.”

      Shane stared at his misshapen nose, wanting to break it again. Every minute that ticked by gave Owen and that Spanish cunt a greater opportunity to escape. He wondered if his brother had lied to him about their relationship. They acted like a couple, and he had her son’s name tattooed on his chest. What kind of sucker did that for a girl he wasn’t even dating? Why get a tribute for a kid who wasn’t his?

      By the time Dirk and Roach reached them, Shane was seething. He’d been pissed at Gardener for dropping the ball, but confident that a woman with a child wouldn’t get far. Now they had Owen’s help. The three of them might leave this cave and walk all the way back to civilization.

      Shane felt the situation slipping from his hands. These idiots were going to ruin everything, and the stakes were too high for him to back out. He owed the Aryan Brotherhood more money than he could ever pay. If he skipped town, they might threaten his family. It was a matter of honor, if nothing else.

      Dirk went nuts when he saw Brett. He paced back and forth, plotting revenge on Owen. “I’ll kill him,” he repeated, baring his teeth. “When I find him, I’ll cut off his head and piss on his neck.”

      “Shut up,” Shane said wearily.

      “I’ll do his bitch, too. I’ll do her right in front of him.”

      Shane fisted his hand in Dirk’s shirt. “You won’t do a goddamned thing unless I say so. Got that?”

      Dirk didn’t agree, but he didn’t argue, either.

      Shane СКАЧАТЬ