a sharp corner, Owen slid towards Dirk. He wasn’t trying to challenge him in any way, but he couldn’t prevent his body from listing that direction. He had no control, no anchor.
Dirk gripped the back of Owen’s shirt and slammed him facedown on the seat. Straddling his thighs, he ripped off Owen’s communication device, which was hanging from his collar, and tossed it out the window. Then he checked him for weapons.
Owen gritted his teeth against the feel of another man’s hands on him, diving into his pockets and thrusting between his legs. He didn’t like incidental contact. Getting groped while he was restrained and vulnerable sent him over the edge.
He’d been held down before. Cheek smashed against the cold tile, wrists trapped in a cruel grip. He didn’t want to travel to that dark place again. It was locked inside his memory, never to be revisited.
Dirk dispensed with Owen’s jacket and relieved him of his cell phone, pepper spray and tactical baton. He also found Owen’s money clip and confiscated it. “This rent-a-cop doesn’t even have a gun.”
“I told you he wouldn’t,” Shane said.
“What kind of bodyguard doesn’t pack heat?”
Plenty of them. Some security experts used weapons, others didn’t. Owen was trained in self-defense and close combat. His top priority was escorting members of the Sandoval family to safety, not getting into shoot-outs with assailants. He was also a convicted felon, so he couldn’t own a gun. Being armed wouldn’t have made a difference in this situation, anyway. He’d been incapacitated before he’d had a chance to react.
With a derisive grunt, Dirk continued the search, running his hands along Owen’s thighs and circling his calves. He finished the pat-down, but the violation wasn’t over. Dirk pinned Owen to the seat with his body weight, taking an aggressive rear-mount position. He slanted his forearm across the back of Owen’s neck, putting his mouth close to his ear. “I heard you were a little bitch in prison.”
Owen clenched his jaw, not responding to the dig. It was a common insult for ex-cons; Dirk had no idea what he’d done inside. He was just trying to make Owen mad. Owen refused to give him the satisfaction. Dirk’s opinion meant nothing to him.
Penny was another story. Owen didn’t want her to see him like this. When he glanced at her, she was watching them. She’d cradled Cruz’s head to her chest to prevent him from witnessing the disturbing scene. Her eyes glittered with unshed tears.
He closed his, feeling like a loser.
Fifteen minutes ago, she’d begged him to kiss her. For luck, she’d said, gazing up at him. He’d been floored by the request, but he’d also understood what prompted it. She’d needed an escape, a brief distraction. He’d fantasized about kissing her—really kissing her—a thousand times. The temptation to plunder her mouth was hard to resist. But he’d acted the gentleman, not mussing her pretty, painted lips.
In that fleeting moment, he’d fooled himself into believing he was good enough for her. In this one, he felt absolutely worthless.
“Quit fucking around,” Shane said to Dirk. “I don’t want to get pulled over.”
Dirk climbed off Owen and returned to his seat, adjusting a black handkerchief around his neck to cover his face. His baseball cap and casual clothes made him resemble a member of the paparazzi, but his powerful build suggested otherwise. Owen pegged him as a recent parolee.
When Owen was capable of moving, he dragged himself upright and settled into the space beside Penny and Cruz. He couldn’t help them escape, but he could put his body between them and danger.
They were on the freeway. Shane sat behind the wheel, wearing a motorcycle face mask. Keshawn Jones was handcuffed in the passenger seat. He appeared to be suffering from the effects of electroshock, too.
Cruz twisted around in his mother’s lap, studying him with solemn brown eyes. “Are you better now, Owen?”
“Much better.”
“Why do you need those han’cuffs?”
“I don’t have control of my arms yet. I might hit someone.” He glanced at Dirk, his fists clenched behind his back.
“Can I hug you?”
Owen was touched by the request. “Sure,” he said, clearing his throat.
Cruz let go of Penny and put his small arms around Owen’s neck. He was a chatty kid, always full of questions and bouncing with energy. Penny encouraged 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
