Out of Control (3 page)

“Sure, but what’s this got to do with Robichaud?”

“He’s not like us. He’s a college boy from some old family in the middle of Louisiana.
And he’s always askin’ us questions about you. Just wanna make sure he doesn’t step
outta line.”

I repressed a smile. It was nice of them to worry, if totally unnecessary. But I didn’t
say that. Instead, I simply said, “Thanks, Cash.”

When we were within seventy or so yards of the well fire, I stopped the Jeep. Peering
through the windshield, I groaned. “We’ve got company.”

“Aw, hell.” Deke poked his finger toward the encampment of TV trucks. “Don’t those
morons realize they’ll be wienie-roasted if the wind picks up?”

I noticed a CNN truck, along with three others that were undoubtedly the local news
crews out of Midland. “There’s a blowout less than thirty miles south of Odessa. Why’d
they pick this fire, over fifty miles farther south, to cover?”

“Probably because it’s the one where people died,” Cash muttered. “The buzzards always
like it better when there’s a few dead bodies.”

“Are you guys up for getting them to move back? I’ll have my hands full with that
group over there.” I nodded toward a small cluster of men in business attire standing
in front of some fancy cars.

“No problem,” Deke said. “Go make nice with the money boys and we’ll take care of
the news people.”

I got out and headed for the men, wondering how difficult it would be to get rid of
them. Nothing worse than trying to put out a fire with a lot of inexperienced know-it-alls
doling out unwanted advice. Trick must have called ahead our ETA, and they’d all congregated
to meet us. Thanks bunches.

Before I’d taken three steps, a young woman in a pair of cargo shorts, a tight, white
T-shirt, and a ponytail in her blond hair ran up to me from the direction of the news
crews. In a loud, commanding voice, she asked, “Are you Blair Drake?”

Aggravated, I glared at her. “This is
so
not a good time, and we’re not talking to anyone until after the fire is killed.”

“Oh, I’m not with the news people. My name is Leslie Conaway. I’m working on my masters
in telejournalism, and for my thesis I’m doing a documentary about the oil business.
I just wondered if it would be okay if I observe and shoot some film while you guys
put out the fire. I won’t get in your way. Later, when things are more calm, I can
ask you some questions.” Her expression came close to ecstatic. “You’re kind of a
legend in the business, and it would be totally awesome if you’d agree to be interviewed.”

Smart girl, using ego strokes to get what she wanted. But I’m never susceptible to
ego strokes, because I’m always looking for an ulterior motive. I got enough of those
growing up in The First Family of Dysfunction, the most polite bunch of backstabbers
on the planet. Eyeing the girl, admiring her courage even if she was a pest, I said,
“Our liability insurance demands we keep anyone but personnel away from the fire while
we’re working. If you can film something from two hundred yards away, go for it. As
for an interview, I don’t do them. Ever.” Without waiting for the inevitable
Yes, but…
I turned and continued toward the men.

“Mornin’, gentlemen,” I yelled over the roar of the fire. It was insanely hot, and
not just because of the proximity of the fire. Midsummer in west Texas is close to
Hell on Earth. Add a giant blowtorch to it and nobody’s immune to sweating profusely.

When they turned toward me, their faces wet with perspiration, I sized up the group
in one quick sweep, past history and intuition telling me who was who. The tallest
guy was the drilling foreman. It was his company’s half-million dollar drilling rig
melted into a mass of twisted metal in the middle of the fire. The one with a beer
belly was with the wireline company, the guy who reads well logs and tells the drilling
foreman where the best producing zone is. The man with a handlebar mustache was responsible
for the mud and chemicals the drilling foreman needed to drill the well. The guy in
the slacks and dress shirt was with the insurance company. And the one with sandy
hair, wrinkled khakis and the look of a man about to hurl, he was the president of
Arroyo Petroleum.

Damn it to hell.

He was also my ex-husband.

I was trying to get a grip on that when my cell phone rang. Trick. He sounded completely
freaked out, but all I could make out was something about a motherfucker. Wow. Trick
wasn’t usually so foulmouthed. “Talk louder,” I yelled.

“You gotta get your ass back on that plane and come home. Some son of a bitch shot
and killed Doug.”

Oh, God.
In shock, I turned from the group of men, including my stunned ex husband, and faced
the unholy mother of a fire I was already anticipating putting out. “Who shot him?”

“The feds think it was the a-hole who blew the offshore. That shrimp boat you saw
turned up in Mobile, and the whole crew was dead in the cabin. They think Doug was
killed because he’s a potential witness.”

“Witness?” My mind snapped to the blond guy.

“Yeah.”

Which meant…
Oh, shit
.

“The guy’s coming after you next.”

Chapter Two

Instinctively, my gaze swept the perimeter of the well site for intruders, the massive
flames lighting up the area like daytime. Was there someone out there, hiding in the
mesquites, pointing a gun at me? I looked at the news crews, all of whom were fiercely
arguing with Deke and Cash. Was one of them a killer, hiding in plain sight? I moved
back a few feet, clutching the phone against my ear. “The plane’s already gone. Unless
you can get the pilot to turn around, I’ll have to drive a couple of hours to Midland
and take a commercial flight back.”

“Lemme talk to Robichaud.”

“Why?”

“Just give him the
goddamn phone.
”

Trick was as close to losing it as I’d ever heard him. Maybe that’s why I didn’t question
any further. Turning, I realized Robichaud was right behind me. I wordlessly handed
him the phone, then stared at the fire and listened as he calmly told Trick not to
worry, that he’d take care of me.

When he ended the call, he moved between me and the fire. “You don’t want to go back,
do you?”

“Of course I don’t, but orders are orders.” Dressed in black jeans and a black beater,
with the flames of the fire behind him, Robichaud looked like an action adventure
hero in a movie. “On the other hand, I’d be lying if I said I’m not afraid. Dying
in a well fire is one thing. Getting shot is a whole other animal.”

“Trick said he’d leave it up to me whether to send you back, or not.”

“Why would he do that?” I checked him out, noticing he had an odd stance. He looked
bigger. Or something. Like a man ready to get in a fight. Tense and taught and so
alert I had no doubt he could gauge my heartbeat. “What’s with you, Robichaud? Were
you a commando or something in a past life?” He’d moved between me and the fire, the
mesquites, and the news people. With the Jeep behind me, the truck to my right, and
the oil guys to my left, I was only exposed in one direction. Except that Robichaud
was effectively blocking that one, too.

“If you go back, you’ll have to go alone, which isn’t a good option. In fact, it sucks.
If I let you stay, will you do everything I tell you, no questions asked?”

Was he kidding?

Sensing that the group of men were beginning to get restless, I moved farther away,
closer to the truck. Robichaud moved with me, keeping his body between me and the
wide open well site. I stepped a little closer to him. “You’re asking me to trust
you to protect me, but I have to know what makes you qualified to do that.”

He said in a low voice, “Let’s just say, Sweet didn’t hire me just because I’m an
ace at putting out well fires.” He cocked that crooked smile at me. “Although, I’m
damn good at that, too.”

The man was unbelievably conceited, a trait I deplore in anyone. So why was I imagining
him naked? God. Hallucinogenic fumes maybe? “What are you? Some sort of mercenary?”

His dark gaze met mine. “There are some who believe our domestic oil production is
at risk, and Sweet wanted somebody on staff who could protect his employees if the
need came up. Not to mention there’s a real possibility we’ll have more work in the
Middle East and, right now, that’s all but a death sentence.” He glanced toward the
men. “You’ll just have to trust me, Blair. If you stay, and in my opinion that’s wisest,
you can’t question anything I tell you to do.”

Fascinated by how neatly he’d sidestepped the question, my curiosity ratcheted up
another five notches. “Does that go for the fire as well? Because I’m not going to
take orders from you when it comes to doing my job.”

He held up his hands. “Far be it from me to get in the way of Madame Wunderkind. You’ll
still call the shots on the fire, but you’ll have to do most of it from the sidelines.
That’s what I’m talking about. If this guy is really after you, you can’t do your
job the way you’re accustomed to. Not if you want to live.”

Looking behind him at the fire, then taking a hard look at the way he stood, the arrogance
of him, my intuition told me this was a guy who’d go to extreme lengths to keep me
from dying. He was an enigma, but he looked as if he could kick ass like nobody’s
business. “Okay, Robichaud, it’s a deal. The first thing I have to do is get rid of
the oil guys. Am I going to tell them about the shooter?”

“Damn straight. Trick says we’re charging elevated danger rates.” He glanced around
at the news crews, who were making no move to leave, despite what looked like a valiant
effort from Deke and Cash. “They all have to go.”

“Good luck with that.” Turning, I walked back toward the group of men and stopped
just in front of my ex. Robichaud was right beside me. “Hello, A.J.” I didn’t smile.

Neither did he. “Blair.” He introduced the other men and I was right on the money
with every one of them. When the introductions and handshakes were done, I gave them
the news. A.J. looked even more ready to hurl, while the other guys just looked scared.
I’d worried about getting them to leave the site, but before I’d even gotten to the
part about charging extra, they all backed away, said to call if I needed them, and
hit the road. A.J. included, the weasel. Not that I was surprised. On our honeymoon
in Cozumel I’d asked him what he’d do if a shark came close during a dive and he said
he’d swim like hell and hope he was fast enough. I was never part of the equation.

Deke and Cash had returned while I was explaining about the shooter. At least
their
faces were creased with worry. Deke asked, “Are you sure you should stick around?”

I glanced at Robichaud, who gave an imperceptible shake of his head. Evidently, I
wasn’t supposed to mention the real reason he’d been assigned to my team. I understood
why. These weren’t average couch potato guys. They had enough macho testosterone oozing
off them to turn a roomful of women into Vikings and still have enough left over to
wrestle a grizzly—and win. If they knew Robichaud was supposed to protect them, they’d
beat the shit out of him, then demand a contest of some sort to prove they didn’t
need his stinkin’ protection.

Refocusing on Deke, I said in an even voice, “If I leave, I could actually be more
vulnerable.”

He took that the wrong way, but it was too late for me to rephrase it. Puffing out
his chest just enough to make a point, he said, “Don’t know why I didn’t think of
that, little sister. Of course you’re safer stayin’ with us. Ain’t that right?” he
asked the others.

They all nodded agreement. “You can count on us,” Cash said.

“Nobody’ll mess with you,” Harley said in his gravelly, rough voice.

Good Lord—I’d just managed to reincarnate the Three Musketeers. I looked toward the
news people. “Couldn’t get them to leave, huh?”

They didn’t catch the slight sarcasm.

“Not a chance,” Deke said, clearly irritated. “Not even when I told them how all their
equipment is likely to melt when the wind shifts.” He glared at them. “Frikkin morons.”

“Thanks for trying. How about you guys start unloading?”

When they were out of earshot, I noticed A.J. had come back. He was wearing a hard
hat. His mere presence made me scowl. “What are you still doing here?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m running an oil company.”

I couldn’t help myself. “And running out of money, which you’re very good at. Whose
daddy’s girl did you con this time?”

Robichaud cleared his throat. “Not sure, Blair, but insulting the client might not
be a good idea.”

“He’s right,” A.J. said with just enough of his old attitude to send me off the page.

“What are you gonna do? Fire us and call Worldwide? Because it’ll be at least a week
before they can make it over here. But, hey. Say the word and we’re gone to the next
fire.”

His face, which I’d once considered handsome, took on a superior expression. God,
I hated that look. “And here, I figured you’d eventually get enough of pretending
to have balls and finally turn into a girl.”

“And
I
figured you’d finally wise up that there’s no such thing as a free lunch.” I nodded
toward the fire. “What’s her daddy going to say about you spending another half million
on that well?”

“Blair, you need to—”

“Stay out of it, Robichaud.”

“No. There’s obviously some history here, but this is not the time or place.”

Frowning at him, I managed to say in a calm voice, “A.J. is a con man, plain and simple.
I want some kind of assurance that we’ll get paid for risking our lives to put out
this fire. If I’m offending you, leave.”

Turning, he stalked away without another word, headed toward the news people.

A.J. laughed at me. “You never change, Evangeline.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and stared him down. “I want whoever’s paying the
bills to cut us a deposit check. Twenty-five grand ought to do it.”

His laugh died a quick death. “That’s not standard operating for any oilfield service
company. No way am I dragging my investor out of bed in the middle of the night to
cut a check just because you hate me.”

“And no way am I going to risk the lives of those men for no pay. Either we get a
check within the next thirty minutes, or we’re gone. Understand?”

“I’ll call Trick Holmes about this. We’ll see what he has to say.”

I opened my cell and pulled up the last received call, then handed it to him. “Just
hit send. Don’t forget to tell him your name and that you’re the operator of this
well, responsible for paying invoices.” With somebody else’s money. Trick knew just
how dependable my ex was because he’s the one who loaned me what I needed after the
bastard left with everything I owned. I pointed at the phone in his hand. “Go ahead
and call Mr. Holmes. Bitch about the check. I dare you.”

That shut him up. He closed the phone, gave it back to me, then pulled his own cell
out of his pocket as he walked away.

After giving myself a moment to calm down, I went to help with the unloading.

Robichaud was instantly all over me. “What are you doing? You need to stay close to
the truck.”

Following orders, I went back to the side of the truck and noticed the news vehicles
were moving. “How’d you convince them to leave?”

“I told them I’d have the sheriff out within an hour to arrest them for inhibiting
our work.”

“Is lying a particular talent of yours?”

“I wasn’t lying. We’re under an elevated terrorism threat, which gives us the right
to prohibit non-essential people from the area.” He nodded toward A.J. “You gonna
tell me what that was all about?”

I watched A.J. pace back and forth beside his car, a late model Mercedes. Robichaud
was looking at me expectantly, so I told him. “Ever heard of Drake Oil and Gas?”

He let out a low whistle. “You’re one of those Drakes?”

“I was, until they disowned me. They were furious with me for having the bad taste
to get a degree in engineering and take this job. Drakes don’t work outside of an
office. Especially female Drakes, who typically don’t work at all. But marrying A.J.
was the icing on the cake. Drake women don’t marry men from questionable backgrounds.
A.J. was tried for mail fraud and found not guilty, mostly because of a technicality.
He claimed he was wrongly charged.” I grimaced. “I believed him.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to.” I glanced up at Robichaud. “Didn’t you ever do something stupid
over a woman?”

He stared at me a couple of beats. “No.”

“Liar.”

There was that crooked smile again. “This is
your
story. Maybe later I’ll share my own tales of stupidity.” He circled a finger in
the air. “Go on.”

“After we’d been married a short while, A.J. figured out he’d never get his hands
on any of the family money because Drakes don’t do trust funds. My father also sent
me a copy of his new will, which specifically left me out. All I had was the paltry
amount I’d saved from working at Lacrouix and Book, along with some jewelry I’d inherited
from my grandmother. A.J. helped himself and hit the road.”

“How long ago was that?”

I kept my gaze on my ex, not wanting to see any level of pity in Robichaud’s expression.
“I married him about six months after I started this job, and he left three months
after that. It was a long time ago, and I never told anyone with the company except
Trick, who bailed me out by loaning me some money to get back on my feet. I’d appreciate
if you don’t mention this because it’s embarrassing, and it can’t be good for the
guys to know I was such a sucker.” I finally looked at him and was relieved that he
only appeared curious. “I’m telling you all this because I think we need to keep an
eye on him. Right now, he’s calling his investor to request a deposit check. I told
him we weren’t going to start work unless we had some money up front.”

“And he agreed?” Robichaud was clearly incredulous. Asking for money up front in the
oil business isn’t done. Ever. It’s the last bastion of the Old Boys’ Club, where
most deals are still sealed with a handshake. Good thing I’m not an old boy.

“He agreed because he knew Trick would back me up.”

He peered at A.J. curiously. “Wonder who his investor is.”

“We’ll find out soon, but my guess is it’s a rich man with a gullible daughter.”

Robichaud moved a little closer. “It kind of killed you to tell me that story, didn’t
it?”

I looked up at his dark, intent eyes. “Not so much as I’d have thought. More than
anything, I hate the idea of being a victim, so I take all the blame, which isn’t
right either. The whole thing sucks, and it’s just easier to ignore it.”

“Is this the first time you’ve seen him since he left?”

“Very first. He disappeared like a cockroach.” I looked across the distance toward
A.J. “He knows exactly zero about the oil business, which means he’s up to something.
No way he’d have the nuts to take a guy’s money to drill oil wells if he wasn’t certain
to come out with a lot of cash. This well struck a producing zone, but I’m betting
it was dumb luck and he’s got a string of dry holes that led up to it.” Turning back
to Robichaud, I noticed he was standing even closer. “But I don’t really care. All
I’m concerned with is making sure our company gets paid.”