CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Two Days to Deadline

 

 

The pumphouse is littered with my AI crew. I’ve crashed a party, and Frank’s in the thick of it. He breaks off of a story when he sees me, and his smile lights up his face. I’m suddenly a grinning fool myself.

“Frank, you look like Santa Claus. Got some presents for me?”

“We’re done, Boss!”

A series of whoops and high fives make the circuit. In the midst of the revelry, I make my way to Frank and grip his arm. “Give me the rundown.”

He shows me all the inspectors’ sign-offs he was able to get on the day shift. He’s left me with only three for tonight, and they’re already scheduled. My night shift crew just has a couple of last-minute items to wrap up before inspection, and we’ll be done.

Turning to the group, I hold up my hands, calling for silence. “I guess Christmas came early this year, after all. Now, the middle of Nowhere, Texas isn’t anywhere near the North Pole. This isn’t exactly my idea of Santa’s workshop, and let’s face it, as elves, sure as shit you’d scare little children. But fuck, you are hands down the best crew a boss could ever want.”

It takes a few minutes of cheering and clapping each other on the back, but when I hold up my hands again, I’ve got the floor. “Seriously, this was a hard project, and I wouldn’t have considered taking it if I didn’t know and respect the level of talent in this group. Bringing it in a day ahead?” I have to stop and swallow the ball of emotion stuck in my throat. “Above and beyond. Above and beyond. Day crew, pack up your gear. You’re free to go home. Be checkin’ your bank balance, because the minute AI’s paid, you’ll find a little extra something in your account. An early Christmas payback.”

“Can I go home, too, Boss?” Frank asks, a twinkle in his eye.

“Not a chance.”

He shrugs and gives me his best hound dog eyes. “I figured you’d say that.”

That’s his way of dealing with the emotion. Kidding around. He’s known me long enough to read when I need help with it.

Before I start blubbering, I crowd the door to shake men’s hands as they trickle out. Quick, but heartfelt. Gratitude swelling inside, channeled into strong handshakes.

It’s pretty much this way after every major job, but this one especially. We were really pushed on this one. I had us stretched to the extreme, trying something new. Trusting that we had each other’s backs and would pull rabbits out of hats. Or raccoons out of energy wells. This was a watershed project for my little company. And these guys made it happen.

Damn. I am going to blubber.

With a wave, I step out of the pumphouse and trek to the areas the night crew is still working. If I’m lucky, I’ll get to hammer or ratchet or solder something.

Buckling on a toolbelt is as close to hands-on as I get. But there’s enough still going on to keep my mind occupied, so it’s all right. By the time 7 AM rolls around, everything’s finished, inspected, and signed off. The farewells given to the night shift are similar to the day crew’s. We call it quits, and Frank and I send them on to join their families at home.

Toward the end, my eye’s snagged by Nola on her way to the Painters’ shed. I’ve never been able to rid myself of the suspicions planted when I saw her talking with Felix.

“Nola?” I call out, trotting up behind her.

She smiles, her gaze friendly. “Raccoons? Who’d ever guess?”

“Yeah, pretty surprising.”

“Benny’s fine. Says he has nightmares of a spitting cat swiping its claws across his cheek. But that’s all.”

“Good to hear. Could’ve been worse.”

“Much. Are you guys done? Beginning to look sparse around here.”

“Yeah. Back to normal. Listen, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Sure.”

“Why’d you bring that piece of tarp to the pipefitter supervisor instead of your paint supervisor?”

“Oh.” Her face shuttered, and smears of red climbed up her neck as she stared down at her feet.

My stomach plummets. Instincts don’t lie. There was something going on. “Did Felix ask you to?”

Her head whips up, eyes open wide. “No! I…uh…well…see…”

“Go on.”

She hems and haws, then finally looks up at me. “Jilly knows,” she finally says, then dashes away while I’m trying to figure out what that means. What does Jilly know?

Icy cold slices into me, and I deflate like a day-old balloon.

Jilly’s involved in something with Felix and Nola.

A hand grips my shoulder. “Don’t jump to any conclusions.”

Frank’s voice of reason seeps into the frozen mass that used to be my heart. “You heard. We both wondered why she’d take that to him.”

“And we’re no closer to getting an answer to that question.”

“Her reaction—”

“Is hers. It could be anything. Hear Jilly’s side before going off half-cocked.”

Funny he should use those words. An hour ago, using Jilly and cock in the same sentence would have set my senses on overload. Now it just makes me…sad.

I refuse to wallow. “After we meet with Murphy, I’m going to find Felix.”

“No, you aren’t. You’re going to get in your ratty old truck and drive to wherever Miss J.T. Vickers is.”

“That too.”

“But not with that tone, boy.”

Him calling me boy tears through the fog in my brain. Frank’s never sharp with me. And evidently, he’s just getting warmed up.

“You’re going to be the quiet, surly bastard you usually are, and you’re just going to ask her, like you did Nola. And then you’re going to listen to her answer before you judge.”

My glare funnels a mountain of frustration his way. He absorbs it with a glare of his own back at me. It’s a stand-off that I suddenly find amusing.

I relax my stance with a smirk. “First you’re Santa Claus, and now you’re Yoda. Old man, you and your identity crisis need a rest.”

He snorts. “After all these years with you? It’s a wonder I’m not certifiable.”

“You may make it yet.”

“But not before we close the books with Murphy. Let’s go.”

Doug Battles is in Murphy’s office when we get there. Both men are wearing Cheshire Cat grins. A far cry from the last time we all met. Then we were being called on the carpet. Now we’re floating above it.

“I’m impressed,” Murphy proclaims. “Excellent work, finished a day early.”

I hand over the inspectors’ paperwork. “Signed, sealed, delivered.”

He gives me an envelope containing a check for the balance of our contract, shakes my hand, then Frank’s. “Your reputation is well-deserved.”

“We couldn’t be more pleased,” Doug adds. “And you solved our mystery.”

“Thanks. We aim to please.”

Lonestar Petroleum’s chief smiles benignly and waves us to sit. “That you do, that you do. What’s next for AI?”

Frank and I settle onto a leather sofa in the seating area by Murphy’s desk. “Time off for the holidays. I don’t like taking my crew too far from their families during that time of year. We’ll start up again in January.”

“You’ll get excellent references from Lonestar, if anyone inquires.”

“That’s nice to hear, Mr. Murphy,” Frank says. “We’ve got a great crew that deserves the recognition.”

Doug nods. “Absolutely. Speaking of them, I notice the ranks thinning. Everybody gone?”

“We kept a couple of guys, in case there were any final issues,” Frank says. “Otherwise, we’ll clear out.”

Murphy cocks his head at Doug. “Any final issues?”

“Not a one.” Doug says. “Godspeed, fellas. Pleasure doing business with you.” He stands, and we all follow suit.

“Same here, thanks,” I say, this place already moving to the back of my mind.

In less than an hour, we’ve been back to the pumphouse to gather up the last of our things, trooped with the remaining AI crew through Security to drop off our badges, and said our goodbyes in the parking lot.

Frank stops by my truck. “Remember. Go easy. You’re imagining the worst, when I’m betting it’s no such thing.”

“Yeah. Okay. You drive safe. Call me when you get home.”

“Will do. Good luck. I’m rooting for ya, kid. She’s a keeper.”

A dull ache pulses. Yesterday I would have agreed. Now, the jury’s still out. I can only hope he’s right. I pull the phone out of my back pocket. “Callin’ her this minute.”

“Good. Later, man.”

He waves and crosses over to his truck while I check the time. Nearly noon. I punch Jilly’s name in my contacts. I’m not surprised when it goes to voicemail.

That’s fine. It’ll give me time to shower and catch a few zees.

Can’t say I’m sorry to leave Lonestar Petroleum.

Can’t say I’m ready to face Jilly.

Rock and a hard place? Frying pan to fire?

Yeah, I’m going to need sleep.

I turn off the main road onto a paved drive at the mailbox with Vickers stamped on its side. Ol’ Blue purrs along the tree-lined path, oblivious to the emotions tumbling inside me. Eagerness to see her again wars with the threat of disappointment. My heart warring with my head. I used to sneer at sad sacks eaten up about some woman. I sure never dreamed I’d join their ranks.

Blue crests a hill, and I get my first glimpse of the house. Built hacienda-style, it’s an elegant stone, two-story building curled around a spacious brick patio hemmed in by iron gate and fencing. The setting sun makes the stone glow gold, and there are ocean blue barrel tiles on the roof. Solar, I’d be willing to bet.

Blue pulls through the circle and parks just past the gate. I climb down and go to the front door. Its dark wood is deeply and intricately carved with stylized leaves and scrolls. The iron knocker deep clang echoes when I strike its plate.

A small woman in traditional Mexican dress answers my knock. Her glossy black hair is parted in the middle and slicked into a bun, low on her neck.

“Hello. I’m Jack DePaul. Jillian’s expecting me.”

“Follow me, please.” She opens the door and turns to lead me through the foyer, straight to the back of the house. At another carved door, she knocks and waits for permission to enter and announce me.

A man with silver hair and penetrating turquoise eyes sits behind a massive desk. He has to be Jilly’s father.

He rises with a smile, which doesn’t reach his eyes. “Welcome. I’m Nate Vickers. Come in, please.”

I thank the woman and enter the room. He comes around the side of his desk, hand extended. His grip when we shake is a little stronger than it needs to be, asserting his dominance from the get-go.

Let the games begin.

“Jack DePaul.” I sit in the chair he indicates and rest one booted foot on my knee, deliberately casual.

He takes it in, and we exchange tight little smiles.

I’ve played this game many times.

Some dads are curious about their daughter’s date and are interested in him on a personal level. Others are concerned and want you to reassure them that you’ll take good care of their precious jewel. Then there are the dads who haven’t adjusted to the idea yet that their little girl is old enough to want to date, and no matter what you say or how you say it, they’re gonna have the sheriff on speed dial one minute after curfew.

Nate Vickers isn’t any of those. He strikes me as a man who’s not into negotiations. He’s used to having his way, period. He intimidates people into conforming to his dictates.

It’s his misfortune to run into me…his mirror image.

“Scotch?” he offers, crossing to a cabinet housing a bar.

“Am I going to need one?” Pure bad manners. The language we understand.

He pours two glasses and deposits them on the low table between our chairs.

“Just in case.”

“Thanks.”

He takes a sip and savors it. “I’ve heard a lot about you the past couple of weeks.”

You’d blow a gasket if you knew the impressions Jilly left me of you.

That thought rattles around my mind, but I remain silent.

“So you’re the man we hired for the green energy project. Vernon’s pleased with your performance.”

“I have a talented and dedicated crew. It was a good project for us. Good for Texas, too.”

“We have high expectations. That means making detailed plans, checking out the best team members, monitoring situations.”

He’s about as subtle as a rattlesnake. “Good policy. I run things the same way. Set high expectations, gather good people, trust them to make decent decisions.”

Those eyes that remind me so much of Jilly’s probe me as he savors another sip of expensive Scotch. “Then we understand each other.”

“Tolerably well.”

Shoulders relax inside his blue button-down shirt, and the grin he gives me is the first natural gesture I’ve seen. “I’m watching you, DePaul. You better not hurt her.”

I toss back the rest of my drink. “If you think it’s totally up to me, then you don’t know your daughter very well, sir.”

He has a good belly laugh, designed to put others at ease. I know that game, too. But I’ll play along for now. No reason not to.

“She’s sheltered. Innocent,” Nate says.

He can’t be that delusional. No innocent scalded me between the sheets last week. Almost killed me with her lust, making me crave more. “Oh, there’s nothing wrong with her wings. She just needs a little room to exercise ‘em.”

He grimaces.

“While we’re on the subject, I might as well warn you. She’s agreed to let me take her on vacation after her grapefruit is harvested.”

I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing out loud. It’s just mean to tell an overprotective father that you’re planning to lead his little girl astray. Especially when it’s not a given that it’s going to happen, depending on what transpires when Jilly and I talk about Felix. But she wants that freedom, deserves it, and maybe I can make the transition a little easier for them both.

“You just overplayed your hand. She’s not going anywhere.”

I let a slow grin slide across my face, my insolence like poking a bear with a stick.