Out of Control (6 page)

Yeah, he was sorry, all right. A sorry son of a bitch. But was he capable of masterminding
the deadly blowouts? I didn’t think he was smart enough, but what did I know of him,
really? “If A.J. is behind this, I can’t figure out why. What’s his motive?”

“He wants to make sure Maresco doesn’t have the money to extend their lease on some
primo Alaskan oil and gas properties.” Robichaud folded his arms over his chest. “He
told me as much when he was here a few days ago. Said he hates that Maresco is the
one hit by all the blowouts, but the upside is that those undeveloped minerals will
be up for bid.”

“If Maresco can’t come up with the scratch to extend their lease on drilling rights
and it goes to auction, a lot of oil companies, big and small, will make a bid for
them. Does A.J. think it’s a slam dunk that he can win the auction for Arroyo?”

“Based on some things he alluded to, I think he knows someone on the inside who’ll
leak the other bid amounts so he can outbid them.”

Conaway said, “If he set the blowouts, why would he tell you? A.J.’s not too smart,
but he’s not a complete idiot.”

Robichaud’s lip quirked. “Greed trumps stupidity. He thinks I come from money, and
offered to cut me in on the buy.”

Her eyes narrowed. “So, do you come from money?”

He wordlessly peered toward the activity at the SUV.

“You’re just rude and nosy enough to make a great reporter, Conaway,” I murmured.

She swung her gaze to mine and I shrugged. I remembered Deke said Robichaud was from
an old Louisiana family, but he hadn’t mentioned money. Nick Robichaud was a mystery
in more ways than one. I was still imagining what he’d look like naked.

We watched the three men as they settled Dylan into the back seat of his SUV. “I think
I’ll call those FBI agents and tell them.”

“I already did. I suspect a motive was what they were missing, and now they have one.
Along with an arrest.”

Vague memories came back to me. I’d thought myself in love with A.J. He’d come on
strong and never let up, literally sweeping me off my feet. I’d never been much for
dating, I suppose, because I wasn’t into things like make-up and clothes. I was an
egghead and guys tend to avoid geeky math girls. A.J. changed all that, or so I’d
thought. He said he thought it was sexy how smart I was. Barely twenty-two, with extremely
limited romantic experience, I was ripe for flattery. And a big fall.

I took to sex like a fish to water. Maybe because I ignored my mother’s constant lectures
about not letting boys ‘take advantage.’ Or maybe because my goals always included
doing anything and everything Mama told me I couldn’t. I used to wonder if she’d had
sex exactly four times in her life, once for each of her daughters. My mother appeared
to think of anything sexual as base, crude, and terribly white trash.

I, on the other hand, think sex is about feeling alive, powerful, and feminine. Maybe
I don’t live a girly-girl life, but the fact remains, I
am
a girl, and at no time do I feel so female as when I’m naked, tangled up in the sheets
with an equally naked male. For all A.J. was a thieving, lying bastard, he’d been
a great one to teach me the wonders of the bedroom.

What did it say about me that I trusted him?

As soon as his son was deposited in the back seat, Hoyt climbed behind the wheel and
peeled out, leaving a cloud of dust as he tore down the lease road. I supposed he’d
return for his high-dollar sports car later.

Robichaud said, “Let’s blow it tonight and get the hell outta here.”

“I’m game. Can’t think of a job I ever wanted to finish so much as this one.”

Conaway’s pretty blue eyes lit up with excitement. “Awesome!”

…

Hours later, Conaway’s enthusiasm had waned a bit. Blowing a well fire is a tedious
undertaking, a lot of time and effort for a brief moment of thrills and chills. Kind
of like standing for hours in a long line at a theme park to ride the biggest, baddest
roller coaster. But it’s so damned cool, we do it again and again.

I’d called the FBI guys, as instructed, and informed them of our intent to kill the
fire. They’d stressed how important it was for them to work the site as soon as the
fire was out to determine if the blowout was deliberately set before anyone had an
opportunity to muck up the scene. They arrived close to sunset, almost nine o’clock
in the west Texas summer, with another agent in tow. He was a bomb expert. Unfortunately,
Tim Fresh came along for the ride. The minute they arrived, he started asking questions.
That we had nitro blew his mind and he made a big, hairy deal about looking over all
the paperwork we’re required to have for the privilege.

I seriously wished we could toss Tim in the fire, but the FBI agent said I couldn’t.
Bad form to fry a Homeland Security guy. I told the agent to keep Tim away from me
and the crew, but he wasn’t successful.

While I was working the nitro load with Robichaud, Tim stood close by and asked stupid
questions, which we ignored until he said, “It seems far too coincidental that your
ex-husband is the one behind these blowouts. You were on that platform, and now here
you are at another blowout.”

My fingers wrapped around one of the nitro bottles. Nick reached down and gently removed
them. “It’s ill-mannered to blow up a man, no matter how much he deserves it.”

Tim said, “I don’t find that at all amusing.”

“You can either walk away and leave us alone, or risk us screwing this up and blowing
everything within a half mile radius to kingdom come.” I glared at him. “That includes
you.”

I suppose he believed me. Turning, he stalked back to the special agents, who were
leaning against their government sedan, flirting with Conaway.

Lowering my head, I returned to the task. “Do you think he’s blowing smoke up my dress?”

“Yes. Forget him and let’s get this done.”

But it was hard to ignore him. How did he know I’d once been married to A.J.?

Mind-reading, Robichaud said evenly, “It’s public record, Blair. Once they zeroed
in on A.J., they would have researched his past. It means nothing, so don’t fret about
it. He’s trying to scare you.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s what guys like him do.” He met my gaze. “We’ll be back in New Orleans
by morning. Have breakfast with me. We’ll drink Bloody Marys.”

“Okay, but no sex.” Had I really said that?

He raised one dark brow. “Did I ask?”

“No, but you’re thinking it.”

“So are you.”

It was out there then and I wasn’t sure if I was relieved, or bummed out. “Thinking
and doing are two entirely different things. We can’t sleep together because I’m your
supervisor. It’s illegal.”

He grinned at me. “I promise not to tell Tim.”

Why did he have to be so damned hot? Why did he have to turn out to be a pretty decent
guy behind that conceited jackass thing he had going? Why couldn’t he have stayed
at Worldwide so it wouldn’t be a big deal if we jumped into bed and stayed there for
three days? Never mind that I probably wouldn’t have met him if he’d stayed at Worldwide.
I wasn’t in the mood to be logical. I wanted Nick Robichaud and it annoyed me that
I couldn’t have him. “I’m not worried about Tim. I doubt the man’s ever had sex in
his life because no woman in her right mind would do it with him, so he wouldn’t understand
what you’re talking about.”

He sobered suddenly. “Who’d know, except you and me?”

“No one. You and me are who I’m worried about.”

His brow creased. He didn’t get it.

“You’re such a guy. Let’s say we do, and we start having dinner instead of breakfast,
and more sex, and maybe a trip here and there. Weeks, maybe months pass, then we decide
to give it up, that it’s not working. We get assigned to a job, maybe a long one in
the middle of Malaysia, or Iraq. Think about how those go, Robichaud. If you don’t
get along with everyone on the job, it’s worse than awkward. It’s bad for morale and
a miserable experience. It’s easier if we just acknowledge we’d like to, then don’t.”

“Easier for you, maybe.” His gaze slid to my breasts. “I swear to God, it’s gonna
kill me if I never find out what you look like naked.”

It didn’t help that his words mimicked my thoughts. “Okay, fine, we’ll play doctor,
but that’s it.”

Not that I think I’m funny, or anything, but I did intend it as a joke. He surprised
me when he didn’t even smile, much less laugh.

Instead, he said in a far more pronounced than usual southern drawl, with an undertone
that made me think of warm whiskey and slick, hot skin, “If you take your clothes
off, sugar, I guaran-damn-tee I’ll do a helluva lot more than look.”

Never in my whole life had a man made me feel exactly like I did at that moment. In
all honesty, if we hadn’t had an audience, if we could have gotten away with it, I’d
have stripped off the damn fire suit and made love to him right there in the west
Texas dust next to enough nitro to blow us to the moon.

I sucked in a deep breath and let it out very slowly. “Then I guess maybe we better
not play doctor.” We needed to get on with it, finish the nitro load, kill the fire
and cap the well, pack up and get going. But I couldn’t stop staring at him.

“Did I mention that I spoke to Trick this afternoon?” he said.

“No.”

His gaze moved all over my face and landed on my lips. “Said he’s sending us to Venezuela
as soon as we’re done here.”

“Us?”

His mouth slid into a slight smile. “You and me. Said he thinks we make a good team,
considering how fast we worked this fire.”

If Trick had any inkling what Robichaud and I were discussing, he’d send one of us
to Venezuela and the other to the opposite side of the world. Very glad Trick had
no clue, I licked my lips. “Hotter than hell in Venezuela right now.”

I saw something flare in his dark eyes that had nothing to do with the monster fire
to the east of us. “Maybe you can spend a few weeks down there and come back home
relatively sane, but I can’t. I’m standing here trying to figure a way to get you
out of that suit before we have to load the f’ing plane. I’m not even thinking about
tomorrow. It’s all about two hours from now.”

He wasn’t the impetuous type. Neither was he someone who ploddingly plans. Robichaud
was a man who sized something up, figured the best way to go about it, then did it.
Decisive. A man of action. If he was thinking about having sex with me in two hours,
he’d been thinking about it for some time. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. On
the one hand, it was extremely erotic knowing he’d been thinking about me that way.
On the other hand, it had a certain expectation that slammed against the control freak
in me.

Ironically he gave voice to my thoughts. “It’s inevitable, especially if we spend
a few weeks isolated in South America.”

“What’s inevitable is the end of it. Did you forget that part about how I’m lousy
at relationships?”

“Did you forget that you’ve never had a relationship with a guy who does what you
do? I’m not just anybody, Blair. I know who you are, and why.”

“You’re getting way past sex, Robichaud.”

“Why not be optimistic?”

“It’s got nothing to do with optimism. If we didn’t work together, we wouldn’t be
having this conversation. We’d be heading for that skeezy motel in Iraan as soon as
we kill this fire. But we do work together, which means this train will wind up in
a town called Awkward. That is, if no one else finds out.” I nodded toward the trailer
house, where Cash and Harley were taking a breather before we blew the fire. “If anyone
catches on, I’ll be the company bimbo and you’ll be Mister Studly. If Sweet or Trick
find out, we could both be fired.”

He tapped his finger against one of the nitro bottles and said softly, “Didn’t figure
you for a coward, Blair.”

“There’s a difference between being a coward and being careful.”

He frowned. “Careful means we don’t get caught. It means we agree to walk away friends
if things don’t work out. Just admit it. You’re chicken.”

It was my turn to look down, away from the intensity of his stare. I focused on the
nitro bottles. There was enough there to blow both of us into tiny bits, but it didn’t
scare me. The fire we’d been dancing around all week was like a window to Hell, capable
of burning me to cinders in seconds if I stood in the wrong place and the wind blew
just right. But that didn’t scare me, either. Standing less than three feet away was
a man I’d known only two months, who was everything I’d never liked. He was a conceited
ex-jock who knew way too much about firearms. He came from an old, southern family
that was undoubtedly as snooty about their ancestry as mine was. He was so alpha he
could be the poster boy for testosterone. And yet, I wanted him with a bone deep sexual
need that terrified me, it was that strong. Maybe that’s what scared me most. I’d
never felt like that before, like I could shuck everything important in my life for
an hour in bed with a man I should dislike.

Jesus. Maybe I really had inhaled too many petroleum fumes.

“Say the word and I’ll back off.”

Raising my eyes, I looked right at him and barely managed to say, “Word.”

He lifted his hardhat, ran his hand through his dark hair, then settled the hat back
and sighed. “You’ll change your mind.”

“You said you’d back off.”

“I didn’t expect you to wimp out.” He reached for the nitro and continued working
the load. “Come on, Blair, let’s get this done so we can go home.”

I’ll admit, a part of me was glad he wasn’t giving up.

Thirty minutes later, we set the charge and blew the well. We got it right, thank
God, and the explosion killed the fire, leaving a colossal fountain of oil spewing
into the sky, raining across the location. Being the weakest of our team, I handled
the controls of the Athey wagon and settled the capping assembly over the flange we’d
set earlier that day. Cash and Harley and Robichaud bolted the exposed flange to the
capping assembly, then disconnected the yoke of the Athey so I could pull back. They
closed the blind rams in the blowout preventer and shut in the well, stopping the
flow of oil.