“I’ll take the map,” she said, pulling her purse over her shoulder now that she’d transferred her belongings from the designer clutch that Taylor had given her.
“You’ll take us, as well,” said Carter, whose gaze touched the sparkling clutch. “Just where, precisely, did you have this meeting?”
Ignoring the question, she barreled past him, saying, “If you’re coming, let’s go.”
Carter’s Jeep was parked just outside Layla’s room, and while Rose hopped in the passenger’s seat, Carter knocked on his girlfriend’s door, urging her to come quickly.
Rose eyed Layla as the woman wrapped her thick, dark hair into a ponytail, walking quickly to the vehicle then jumping in the back seat, while Carter climbed in behind the wheel and turned the engine.
“I think our best bet,” Layla began as they drove off into the hot afternoon, wind whipping through the vehicle, “is to park at our former site and walk due north by five hundred yards where I noticed seven unmarked barrels.”
“What do you think is in the barrels?” Carter asked, yelling over his shoulder so he’d be heard over the wind.
“Between their hazmat gear and track record, I’d say the same chemical cocktail that leached into the soil around the Davey-constructed pipeline in Arizona, namely benzene, toluene, and ethylbenzene. But we won’t know for sure until we get a sample to the lab.”
“This is huge,” Carter said, directing his comment to Rose as if she didn’t already think so. “We’ve never intervened a build so early in the process as to catch a company with those kinds of toxins.”
“So let’s catch them,” she said, meeting his gaze. “No heroics, guys. No going against the plan.”
Layla snorted a laugh from the back seat. “Girl, you think we’re going to blow up a barrel of benzene? We’re not on a suicide mission.”
Rose didn’t appreciate her sarcasm, but Layla had a point. The toxic chemicals Davey was in the practice of using could easily blow up if it came into contact with an explosive.
“Just so long as we’re all on the same page,” she said, gazing through the windshield as they flew through an intersection and began heading into the rural and winding roads of Bellevue.
Layla leaned forward, draping her arms around the driver’s and passenger’s seat, as she spoke up over the wind. “That was one hell of a dress you were wearing.”
Alarmed, Rose glanced at her, but holding Layla’s gaze was too rattling.
“Dress?” asked Carter.
“Yeah,” she went on. “I stepped out of the shower and peaked out the window, and who do I see climbing out of the back of a limousine but our very own Rose Cole dressed to the nines and hustling to get into her motel room. What was that all about?”
When Rose didn’t respond, Carter reiterated the question.
“It was nothing,” she said firmly and a little annoyed that they were prying. “Let’s focus on what we need to do.”
“Sure,” said Layla, shifting back in her seat and scanning the trench that stretched out parallel to the dusty road they were traversing. “It’s up there on the right.”
“Okay,” said Carter. “We’ll overshoot it then double back on foot.”
As they flew past the barrels, Rose eyed them carefully, counting seven and noting the skull and crossbones insignia on each one.
“This is a hell of a world we live in,” she said to herself, though Carter caught the sentiment, pressing his mouth into a determined line in response.
“They won’t get away with it, Rose,” he said. “No matter how long it takes, no matter how many of us are arrested in the process, we’re working towards making the world a safe place.”
She glanced at him and smirked in agreement. As much as she’d butted heads with Carter over the years, he truly was her biggest ally, and having him by her side meant the world to her.
Carter angled the Jeep off road then pulled to a stop along a dusty patch of terrain where the One World campsite had once been. When he killed the engine, Layla hopped out of the back and began sorting through their gear in the trunk, while Rose scanned the vacant Starlight trench through her binoculars.
“It certainly is vacant,” she said, thinking to herself that Taylor had kept his word. In so many ways, she wished she hadn’t been compelled to run off from the Escala earlier. Part of her would’ve loved to have stayed, forgotten her worries for an afternoon, gotten lost in the spell of his body, the intoxication of his effect on her, but saving Bellevue from certain death was far more important. What was this war brewing inside her, hating and also loving Taylor, if love was even a remote possibility?
“Let’s go,” said Layla, who had gathered a pack of plastic containers to put the samples in, as well as gloves and gas masks so none of them would have to breathe the toxins once they got the barrels open.
For eight minutes they walked in silence along the trench, Rose taking in the beautiful landscape and trying not to be riveted by the damage that would surely become of it should Starlight resume construction.
When they came upon the barrels, Layla passed Carter and Rose the gas masks and gloves, which they all put on as a precaution. Carter used a crowbar to pry the lid off of one of the barrels.
As soon as he set it on the ground, Rose peered into the barrel and saw that it was filled to the brim with a green liquid substance that she couldn’t identify.
Quickly, she took a plastic container from Layla and scooped the green liquid into it then secured the cap on tight, while Carter investigated a stack of pipes and scraped the metal cylinder with a knife, collecting the shavings into another container.
“Should we open another barrel?” asked Layla. “In case there are other chemicals.”
“Couldn’t hurt,” said Carter, who immediately began prying the lid off a second barrel.
When they all glanced down, it appeared to be the same green liquid, so Carter opened a few more barrels to discover the same chemical. Determined to be thorough, Layla collected more samples before the three of them fastened the lids back on, tucked their samples into Layla’s backpack, and started off down the trench.
“How long will the lab take?” Carter asked as they made their way to the Jeep.
“Five days or so,” said Layla.
“Unless we put a rush on it,” Rose added. “I have a contact in Seattle who can do it overnight, but it’ll cost us.”
“Can we afford it?” said Carter, but it wasn’t a question. Aside from Rose, he was the only member of One World who had a handle on their waning finances.
Taylor came to mind. The fact of the matter was that One World had depleted their funds and exhausted their lines of credit, but Rose had no reason to believe Taylor would do anything to assist her in shutting down his own pipeline.
“I’ll figure it out,” she said. “We won’t get billed until the lab is complete, so I say we get it over to Madison Alder and deal with payment later.”
“Hey!”
Rose glanced over her shoulder to see the man who’d yelled at them and found a construction worker jogging after them.
“Hey, stop!” he called out. “I saw what you did! You have no business here!”
Carter jumped behind the wheel and turned the key, as Rose and Layla hurried into the Jeep. Peeling out, the tires kicked up dust in the man’s face, but they made it, the Jeep bouncing over the rough terrain before the construction worker could stop them.
Chapter Seven
Rose stepped out of the shower, glad that Carter and Layla had volunteered themselves to drive the chemical samples into Madison Alder’s lab, Krylotech Industries in Seattle. The rest of the team was getting antsy, but Rose had done a decent job of updating and motivating them by saying the results of the lab would give One World a strong advantage of not only shutting down the Starlight Energy Pipeline in Bellevue, but perhaps put Montgomery’s company out of business entirely. In the meantime, she delegated specific tasks to each member. Ronnie and Samantha were head
ing over to the site to take pictures of the construction workers should they engage in any activity. Jess and Malcom were drawing up an amendment to the class-action motion their attorney would ultimately file. And Dahlia and Molly were focusing on making arrangements for One World’s next project, exposing a water treatment facility in Nevada, which was suspected of adding unregulated quantities of fluoride to public drinking water.
With the majority of her team engaged, she had some time to herself to wrap her head around the Starlight Energy Project and the unprecedented complication of having become involved with its CEO. What had she been thinking?
Layla had seen her get out of the limo. Carter had been suspicious of her mentioning she’d met with Taylor to negotiate. If she continued this secret affair, it wouldn’t stay secret for long. Her rational side knew she had to break it off, but deep down she didn’t want to, and her clever side kept justifying that if she continued to see Taylor she might be able to convince him to move the pipeline. But was that really what she was after?
Could there ever really be a compromise when her primary goal was to obliterate companies like Starlight? People like Taylor and his father would never quit. And she had to admit to herself that she wasn’t fighting as strongly and with as much resolve as she ordinarily would be had she not felt drawn to Taylor.
Rose began drying her hair, shifting the hot stream of her hair dryer through her brown locks and trying not to get annoyed that it was causing her to sweat. Then she stepped out of the steamy bathroom, pulled on a pair of cargo shorts and a tee shirt, and opened her laptop on the bed. As soon as her report filled the screen, thoughts of Taylor had her strangely distracted. What could’ve possibly happened to end his medical career and cause him to go into his father’s business, which seemed so at odds with the health and safety of the population at large?
She connected to the motel Wi-Fi and typed his name in a search engine, searching for the words career and accident. A wealth of webpages came up. The first one at the top of the list said “An End to a Promising Career” and featured a photo of Taylor in a white lab coat with his arms folded.
As she read the article, she learned Taylor had suffered a head injury at one of his father’s charity functions a number of years back. According to the report, he had been acting erratically, babbling and at times running around an outdoor pool where guests were mingling with cocktails. Some of the guests speculated to the newspaper that they believed Taylor had been on drugs, while others thought he possibly had way too much to drink. Whatever the case may have been, Taylor slipped at the edge of the pool, hitting his head before plummeting into the water and losing consciousness. When paramedics arrived and pulled him out of the pool they were able to revive him, but the weeks that followed proved Taylor had suffered a concussion that left him in a disoriented stupor. Determined to return to his position at the hospital, he had convinced the board he could resume, but it had been a terrible miscalculation. During a routine surgery to remove the ruptured appendix of a ten-year-old boy, Taylor had botched the operation, resulting in the child’s death. A malpractice lawsuit ensued, which he lost, as well as his otherwise stellar reputation. Feeling a failure, he had resigned.
Rose glanced up from her laptop to rest her eyes. It didn’t make sense. Why would a well-respected doctor drink himself into an erratic state at a charity function? Even if Taylor had accidentally consumed too much alcohol, wouldn’t he be concerned enough to wall himself off in a private room and sober up? But he hadn’t. She also couldn’t wrap her head around the possibility that he could’ve been on drugs. He didn’t strike her as the sort to dabble recreationally, and even if he were, why would he do such a thing at a charity function with hundreds of guests present?
She startled when she heard a knock at the door. Checking the time, she noted it was five in the afternoon, far too soon for Carter and Layla to have gotten back since they’d all agreed the couple should stay at Madison’s lab until the results came in.
Padding quietly to the door, she asked, “Who is it?”
“Taylor.”
The mere sound of his deep voice through the door sent a rush of excitement through her, and she let him in at once.
Dressed in a thin, blue sweater and black slacks, he stepped inside, and Rose quickly glanced up and down the motel walkway to make sure no one had seen him. When she shut the door and turned, she found him looking at her laptop.
“I wasn’t trying to pry,” she said, flipping it closed.
“It’s public information,” he said, shrugging.
“Have you reached a decision?” she asked hopefully.
He studied her for a long moment, his gaze traveling the length of her then resting on her face, where he seemed to drink in the sight of her in a way that stirred her attraction to him.
“Starlight is moving forward,” he said in a tone that hinted at his regret. “Whether I call the order or my father does, it’s happening. I wanted you to hear it from me. I don’t want you to hate me.”
Absorbing the information, she knew she shouldn't be surprised, but she was, mainly because she had been starting to feel that his interest in her might be big enough to stop the pipeline. But that had been foolish.
“Please don’t give me that look,” he said. “Why have you dedicated your life to stopping things that can’t be stopped?”
He looked frustrated. He plowed his fingers through his dark hair, his gaze sweeping through the room but not as though he was taking any of it in.
“Why have you dedicated your life to making money at the expense of others?” she countered.
“It’s not that simple,” he said. “And don’t forget that people need natural gas. Starlight is serving a purpose. It’s meeting a demand.”
Now it was Rose’s turn to be frustrated. He had a point, but she had an entire town of residents depending on her to be effective and save their community.
“When are you starting up again?” she asked.
“I’ve put in the order to replace the pipes you destroyed, and they’ll be here first thing in the morning. My father warned me that if I didn’t order Davey Construction to resume at seven tomorrow, then he would. So either way, Rose, this is happening.”
“You do whatever your dad tells you to do, is that it?”
He stared at her, but the insult washed over him and was quickly forgotten, or so his eyes told her.
“I’m here because I can’t stand the thought of you hating me.”
“I don’t hate you,” she offered in a small voice.
“But you’re not going to want to have anything to do with me after this.”
“Well don’t you feel the same?”
“All I feel right now is that I want you. I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“Me too,” she said after a long moment of reading his expression. He seemed sincere. And it had been so long since anyone had felt that way about her, so long since she’d heard those words and felt the same. Rose couldn’t help but feel magnetized to him.
Nearing him, her eyes searching his and her heart so in conflict with her head that she feared she’d come apart at the seams, she ventured to touch his chest, resting her hands there and feeling the strong wall of his pecs beneath her palms.
Whispering, she said, “I’m not going to give up.”
“On me? Or on ruining my pipeline?” he asked with a crooked smile.
“Both, I think.”
Slowly, he found her waist, tilting his head near hers and drawing her close.
“God, why do you have to make my life difficult?” he whispered.
“If I can prove Davey’s chemicals are toxic, will you stop the pipeline?” she asked, always pushing for what mattered most.
He glanced down at her until she lifted her eyes to meet his.
“I know exactly what I want right now, and it isn’t to talk about this war we’re in the midst of. Can you give me one night?”
She certainly wanted to, but going
to his suite in Seattle would take her head out of the game. She needed to stay focused and stay near One World, her computer, and her cell phone, so that the team could take the next steps as opportunities arose.
“Please come back with me,” he said.
She glanced over her shoulder at the narrow motel bed then smiled at him.
“I think we have everything we need right here.”
“Rose, I wish you’d let me show you all the good that could come of the pipeline.”
She cocked her head at that, questioningly.
“I thought you said you didn’t want to talk about it,” she pointed out.
“I guess we’re both still pushing for what we think is best.”
“Then let’s agree not to do that, at least for a little while.”
Lifting her face to his, she found his lips—smooth and warm and firm. He cradled her face, titling her head to deepen the kiss, as their lips parted slightly and his tongue delicately probed her mouth.
Soon she was feeling for his slacks, the button and zipper, working his pants open until they fell to his ankles. His thighs and hips felt hard against her, and she reached for the hem of his sweater next, as he undid her shorts, urging them down. All the while their kissing became a series of quick, urgent pecks between their efforts to strip down.
He helped her tee shirt up and over her head and drank in the sight of her when it hit the floor. Her bra was black and basic and her panties matched, but soon he freed her, unfastening the hook and eye at her back and peeling the cups away.
A hot rush of excitement surged through her when his hands squeezed her breasts then stroked down her stomach, tracing the soft curve of her body. She was tracing him, as well, feeling his arms, his muscles, as she brushed him, shoulder to wrist.
“I want to spend hours with you,” he groaned. “Take my time.”
She smiled and let out a breathy laugh, eyeing his boxer-briefs, the way they hugged his bulge, his thighs. She hooked her fingers under the waistband and stole another kiss—this one firm, which they both held, breathing each other in for a moment.
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