Homestead

by Radclyffe

  *

  Clay approached the compound along the access road, staying in the shadows of the pines as much as she could. The compound was eerily silent. No lights shone in the bunkhouses or by the big machinery shed on the far side of the camp. The huge yard that would soon be filled with trucks and equipment was dark. They weren’t running at full capacity yet and hadn’t put up the halogens that would light the space like day once they started running 24/7.

  Clay’s trailer was the closest to the access road, and a prime target. The big satellite dish on the roof was practically a blinking sign saying expensive stuff inside. Chances were this was nothing more than just malicious mischief or at most, burglary—they’d had their share of trespassers at other sites hoping to find some loose tools lying around. Even had a backhoe go missing until it was found abandoned after it got bogged down in a swamp a quarter mile from the yard. The rigs hadn’t been assembled yet, and destroying them would take explosives. Vandals would have to be serious and sophisticated to go after them.

  Keeping her flashlight on low beam and pointed at the ground, she picked her way over the uneven terrain, doing her best not to kick up rocks or snap branches in the tangle of scrub at the edge of the woods. Once, she thought she heard the murmur of voices, cut her flashlight, and stopped, trying to pinpoint the sound. At night out here, everything was amplified. A car passing on the next ridge sounded like it was around the bend. Maybe some of the crew were still awake in one of the bunkhouses. Or maybe more than one intruder lurked inside the trailer. When she heard nothing more, she resumed her cautious approach until she got within twenty feet and could see more clearly. The trailer door had been jimmied and hung askew. The windows were dark. She stood still again and listened. Nothing. Even the crickets were quiet.

  Sweat trickled down her face and she swiped at it with her sleeve. Her breathing sounded so loud in her ears she wondered if it wasn’t audible inside the trailer. If anyone was inside, they were doing the same thing she was—waiting and listening. After a minute, she decided to make the first move—taking the aggressive approach usually worked for her. Edging up to the trailer, she slipped along the side until she was under one of the back windows. She didn’t want to go through the door and surprise someone ransacking the place, especially with no backup. Rising slowly, she gripped the narrow window ledge and hoisted herself up until she could get a look inside. Her sore ribs protested but she ignored the insistent ache. Enough moonlight filtered through the windows to light the twelve-by-thirty space. Although her lateral vision was obscured, she could see most of the trailer, and it looked empty. She eased down to the ground, caught her breath, and worked her way around to the door.

  She was ten feet away from the open doorway when Kelly whispered, “What’s the situation?”

  Clay managed not to gasp. All the same, the hair on the back of her neck stood up and a shudder ran down her spine. “What are you, part ninja?”

  “Used to be SWAT.”

  “Nice to know.” Clay leaned close. “Place looks empty. I don’t think anyone’s around.”

  “I’ll clear this trailer, then we’ll check the rest of the buildings.”

  “I’m coming in with you.”

  “Take my backup piece. I know you know how to shoot.” Kelly leaned over, and when she straightened, she had a Beretta Bobcat in her hand. She slid the compact .25 caliber to Clay. “Don’t shoot unless you have to. Metal trailer—ricochet.”

  “Don’t worry.” Clay kept the weapon close to her thigh, pointing down. “Your call.”

  “I’ll go left, you take right.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Just the way Clay liked it—short and sweet.

  *

  Tess paced on the front porch, as close as she could bring herself to going inside. No way could she just sit and wait. The night sounded like every other night—an incredible silence punctuated by the throaty rumble of bullfrogs, the shriek of opossums, and the lonely yip of a coyote searching for its pack. Somewhere, the mournful sound of cows lowing echoed the simmering ache in her chest. She stared at the hill behind the barn until her eyes stung. Ella was up there somewhere, alone. What did it take for someone to face danger so calmly, so matter-of-factly? Tess’s heart raced, and she wasn’t even in any danger.

  Every now and then she caught a glimpse of what might have been a flashlight beam cleaving the dark for an instant, or maybe it was only starlight reflecting off the window of one of Clay’s machines. Clay’s equipment on her land. Clay was everywhere in her life, when weeks ago she had only been a memory Tess struggled not to revisit. The scent of her still clung to her skin. The imprint of Clay’s hand on her hip still tingled. She couldn’t breathe without tasting her on her lips. All she wanted in that moment was to see her. Just to know she was all right. Then the terrible pressure in her chest would ease, and her head would stop spinning.

  Wrapping her arms around herself, chilled despite the cloying heat, Tess strained to see beyond her fields to the tree line on the ridge bordering the Hansen property. Stark fingers stretched into the sky, spirits rising from the earth, clawing to freedom. Over that ridge, Clay’s compound had sprung up like a tent city of nomads in the desert, seemingly overnight. Clay was there, possibly in danger. Clay had always been the perfect picture of danger to her, but she’d never been frightened by her. She’d represented everything Tess had never experienced—independence, rebellion, daring adventure. She still did, only now, Clay seemed less the master of her fate than she had when they were young. She seemed beset from every angle by forces that sought to hurt her.

  And now, Tess was one of those who had hurt her. She’d felt Clay flinch when her words had struck like blows. And now that she’d said what she’d wanted to say for so long, she felt no better for it. Whatever had happened that long-ago summer, they had both been part of the play, both of them knowing somewhere in the back of their minds that the dream was only a dream. Clay had broken the fragile fantasy first, but maybe in a few weeks’ time, Tess would have been the one to end the perfect idyll. When the summer drew to an end and she’d been forced to choose between riding off with Clay into some unknown future or returning to the farm and the land she knew and loved, maybe she would have been the one to break hearts. She’d held Clay responsible for her pain and disappointment all this time because she needed someone to blame for the loss of innocent dreams.

  A streak of light cut through the darkness and she caught her breath. Ella was coming back. Tess hurried down the dirt drive to meet her.

  “Did you find anything?”

  “No,” Ella said. “Everything up there looks all right.”

  “Can we go to Hansen’s now?”

  “Clay expressly wanted you safe. Whatever’s going on over there, it’s no place for—”

  “What do you mean, Clay wanted me safe? She said that?”

  “Tess,” Ella said gently, “do you have to ask?”

  Tess jolted. How can you ask that? Could even Ella see what she had refused to admit? She narrowed her eyes. “Wait a minute. Kelly just came up this week. But you were here alone until Clay got hurt. Now Kelly is with Clay and you’re…you’re assigned to me, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, but that has nothing—”

  “Clay’s idea?”

  “I agreed with her, Tess. We don’t know what’s going on, and you were right there when Clay was injured. So far, no damaged vehicle has turned up, and no witnesses have come forward. No one is admitting to seeing anything at all. Except you.”

  “So Clay decided I needed protection, and that’s what you’ve been doing? Is that what today was about?”

  “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

  Tess was so angry she knew she wasn’t thinking straight. “I’m going to Hansen’s. Come with me or not. I don’t care.”

  She marched toward her truck, jumped in, and pulled the keys from the cup holder where she always left them. As she started the engine, Ella climbed in the passenger side an
d said, “If you’re going to do this, follow my instructions. We don’t want to go roaring in there and surprise some hothead who’s going to start shooting at Clay and Kelly—or us.”

  “Fine. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

  “And Tess—about the rest of it—”

  “I’d rather you not say anything right now,” Tess said. “I’ve already told one person to go to hell tonight. That’s enough.”

  *

  The trailer was empty. Clay switched on the propane-powered light and surveyed the chaos. File cabinets lay on their sides, their drawers pulled open and dumped upside down. The computer was trashed, and papers, blueprints, and survey maps were shredded and strewn about the room.

  “We better check the rest of the camp,” Clay said grimly.

  “We ought to call the sheriff.”

  “Let’s see if our friends are still around first. If they are, I’d like to talk to them alone.”

  Kelly grimaced. “We could be asking for trouble.”

  “No,” Clay said. “That’s what they’re doing.” She handed Kelly back her Beretta and shoved the broken door the rest of the way open.

  Tess jumped back with a startled gasp. Ella stood beside her, a stoic expression on her face.

  “Damn it, Tess,” Clay snarled, “what are you doing here?”

  “Not listening to you, apparently.”

  “Go home.”

  Ella said, “Is the rest of the site clear?”

  “No,” Clay said, staring at Tess. She looked angry and defiant and so fucking sexy. She sighed. “Fine. Stay. But at least wait inside.”

  “You’ll be careful?”

  “Yeah,” Clay said, although where Tess was concerned, she doubted that was possible.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  “The road forks about twenty feet ahead,” Clay called to Kelly and Ella. “Go left—I’ll catch up in a minute.” She turned to Tess. “You have your cell phone? We’ll only be a few minutes.”

  “Yes.” Tess couldn’t make out much of the encampment except for the large looming shapes of the buildings on the perimeter, and then only because they blocked out portions of the moonlit sky. Anyone could be out there, hiding or waiting to jump someone who came looking. She grasped Clay’s hand. “Why don’t you let Ella and Kelly do this? Better yet—the sheriff.”

  “By the time anyone responded, our visitors would be long gone.” Clay smiled, pleased by the frown forming between Tess’s brows. Tess was worried about her. Well, at least as worried as she was angry, and either emotion was better than the ice that had crystallized in Tess’s eyes when she’d walked away, back at the Sly Fox. Tess on fire meant Tess cared, and right now, Clay would make do with any little connection she could find. Being the brunt of Tess’s temper was far better than being frozen outside, locked out of Tess’s life. Maybe she’d have to fight Ella for a place by the fire, but she would if Tess gave her the slightest hint there was a chance. Right now, though, she had to be sure Tess was safe. “The three of us together can cover more ground, and Ella and Kelly aren’t as familiar with the layout as I am.”

  “But they’re trained for it.”

  “There’s probably no one here, Tess.” Clay clasped Tess’s hand and squeezed. “I won’t be long. If you see or hear anything that frightens you, call 9-1-1. Stay in the trailer until one of us returns. I don’t want you wandering around out here in the dark.”

  “Oh, but it’s all right if you do?”

  “Yeah, it is. I’m the tough one here, remember?” Clay grinned at the barely muffled snort of indignation. Tess never liked being left out or left behind—especially if Clay hinted whatever they were planning—“borrowing” one of Leslie’s boats for a quick trip to the island and a little privacy or sneaking a beer or two out of the boathouse fridge for a private party all their own—was too difficult for Tess to pull off.

  Tess almost laughed. Even in the shifting moonlight, an arrogant spark shone in Clay’s eyes. “You are so obnoxious sometimes.”

  “Yeah,” Clay said, running her hand up and down Tess’s arm, “but that’s what you like about me.”

  “You wish,” Tess said, but she couldn’t smother her smile. The old exchange, one they’d often had when Clay was being particularly overbearing, sometimes just to get a rise out of Tess, ought to have hurt, but it didn’t. Clay was right. One of the things Tess had always found so attractive about Clay had been her confidence, her absolute certainty, and her refusal to pretend she felt otherwise. “All right, go ahead, but if you get hurt again, you’re on your own.”

  “I know you don’t mean that,” Clay said in a low teasing tone that made Tess’s heart skip into hyperdrive. “You wouldn’t let me suffer, would you?”

  “Maybe, maybe not. Do you really want to find out?”

  “I just want you to be here when I get back.” Clay’s tone turned serious, and the intensity of her expression might as well have been a hand caressing Tess’s bare skin, setting her alight.

  “Where else would I go? It’s black as pitch out here, and since I walked in with Ella and she has the flashlight, I have no idea how to get back out again. So I’m a captive.”

  “Good, then your only hope of getting home before dawn is time off for good behavior.” Clay gave her a little push toward the trailer. “As soon as I get back, I’ll spring you.”

  Tess climbed the first step and looked down at Clay. The moonlight played cruel tricks sometimes—for an instant, Tess almost got lost in the look of desire in Clay’s eyes. “Don’t get hurt.”

  “I won’t, not if you’re here.” Clay didn’t care who was watching—right then there was only her and Tess, and she wanted Tess to keep looking at her as if she were the only woman in the world. When Tess gave her that little secret smile she could do anything. “What do you say?”

  “Don’t be a hero.” The ice was cracking under Tess’s feet, and she was in danger of falling through into frigid reality. She couldn’t flirt with Clay like this, not when she was flirting with almost certain heartache too. Clay hadn’t changed, and neither had she. She was still far too susceptible to Clay’s charm, and if she wasn’t very, very careful she’d start imagining something Clay had already proved she couldn’t deliver.

  Tess tensed, watching the burn in Clay’s eyes grow hotter. Any second, Clay was going to kiss her again, and this time, Tess wasn’t certain she’d be able to say no. They stood there, poised on the edge of no return for what seemed like hours before Clay sucked in a breath and backed away. She held up a finger, pointed it at Tess like a gun. “Stay put. I’ll be back.”

  “I’ll be here,” Tess said, not caring how thin the ice had become.

  *

  “Everything all right?” Ella asked when Clay caught up to her and Kelly.

  “Things would be better if you’d kept Tess at her place like I asked.”

  Kelly muttered, “I’ll check the skids and ATVs over here,” and disappeared.

  “I had two choices,” Ella said mildly. “Sit at Tess’s while she drove over here alone, or come with her and at least keep her from walking into something.”

  “The machine shop is on the right up here. If anyone really wanted to hurt us, they’d go for that. I’ll take a look.”

  “Why don’t I—”

  “I can handle it.”

  Ella swung around in front of Clay, blocking her path. “Before you get yourself in trouble because you’re pissed at me, why don’t we sort this out.”

  Clay flashed to the image of Ella and Tess walking into the tavern, looking good together. Looking like a fucking couple. She ground her back teeth. “There’s nothing to sort out.”

  “Isn’t there? Come on, Clay—I’m not blind. I was there tonight.”

  “I know.” Ella had been there all right, witness to Clay losing control and practically forcing herself on Tess. But Tess had kissed her—for just a second, Tess had been right there with her. Her gut clenched remembering the sweet sensation of Tess
in her arms. Her throat tightened and she couldn’t breathe.

  “Plus Tess about tore my head off for not rushing over here to help you,” Ella said. “All of which makes the old-business story kind of suspect.”

  “We have some unresolved issues.”

  “I noticed that,” Ella said dryly. “Clay, if you have something to say, now is the time.”

  Clay had plenty to say, starting with stay away from Tess, none of which she had any right to voice. And on top of that, she was up to her neck in business entanglements with Tess that were about to get a lot worse when the attorneys showed up and her father started pushing for the drilling to begin. What she ought to do for Tess’s sake was back the hell away. “What Tess chooses to do is none of my business.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “It’s the only one I’ve got.” Clay pointed to the path Kelly had taken. “Let’s get this done.”

  *

  Tess paused on the step, straining to penetrate the dark that closed in around the trailer, leaving the faint light inside as a fitful beacon. When she could no longer see or hear the three of them, she climbed inside. And jerked to a stop on the threshold of the broken door.

  The interior was a mess—trash and shredded papers and bits of broken computer parts littered every surface. She didn’t like feeling helpless while everyone else was doing something about what had happened, but she couldn’t clean up until the sheriff came.

  She checked the window, still saw no one outside, and surveyed the chaos on Clay’s desk. More paper, various pens and paper clips and scraps of paper. A sticky note with random scribbles clung to the edge of a pad of lined paper, probably something Clay had doodled while she spoke on the phone. Idly, Tess tilted her head to read the crumpled square and jerked as the aimless scribbles took shape. TAR. Throat suddenly dry, hands shaking, she stared at the damning evidence. Perhaps it was something else. Maybe Clay used tar in some part of the drilling process or maybe it was a toxic by-product of the fracking. She studied the box around the letters, the heaviness of the lines, the way the letters were outlined and filled in with precise cross-hatches. Someone, Clay probably, had focused a lot of energy writing those three letters. TAR. Tess Ann Rogers. She touched the note, traced the heavy inked design. Clay had been doodling her initials. The idea, ridiculous and inconsequential, was thrilling.