“Are you with Track Line Corp?”
I stop, look at the girl, turn and look pointedly at the logo on the truck, give her a glare and start walking. That’s a fucking no-brainer.
She clears her voice. “I’m supposed to be picked up.”
“Yeah, whatever. I’m picking up our mechanic.”
“Is your mech called Casey Keagan by any chance?”
I almost stumble over my own feet. Clenching my jaw, I stop and give her a once-over. “I’m here to pick up our fucking mechanic. Did you see him?”
She pins me with her gaze. “That’s me. I’m Casey. I’m a mechanic, and I’m waiting for someone from Track Line to pick me up.”
I’m not hearing this right. My mind is playing tricks on me. She is fucking shitting me. “You’re kidding!” I growl and step closer, towering over her.
“No.” She tightens her jaw, trying to look tough, but she looks what she is; a little kitten that has no business being here.
“Yeah, that’s not happening. Go back to wherever you came from, I don’t care. I don’t know how you tricked the boss, but you’re not fooling me. We don’t need some little chick back at the site, we need a real mech. A dude.”
She drops her bags and grabs the sleeve of my jacket. “Hey! Don’t be such a fucking dick. I’ve been traveling for twelve fucking hours. I’ve changed planes twice. I’m beat. I got the credentials, I know what I’m doing, and you’re taking me to the fucking site. Now.”
I can’t help that a corner of my mouth pulls up into a grin. Foul fucking mouth. “Or what?”
She snaps her mouth shut and tightens her jaw. “Or I’ll report you to your manager.”
I bark out a laugh.
“Girl. I’m one of their best welders. Go ahead and report whatever the fuck you want. I’m out of here.”
I pull my jacket out of her grip with ease, making her almost lose her footing, and stomp off toward the car, a dark cloud of fury rising in me. We needed that mech. We’ve been managing without for too long, and everything is slowly going to shit with our temporary repairs. The equipment gets used heavily and the wear and tear shows.
“Dude!” she screams behind me with a hint of panic in her voice. “There’s no one left here and the next flight out is in a week. You can’t leave me! Take me to the site, now! I’ll prove my worth.”
Exhaling slowly, I stop again, turn and throw out my arms. Of course I can’t leave her. But I’ll also drive her back in a week. Personally. Travel distance and hours of wallowing be damned. “So fucking hop in the car.”
I climb into the driver’s seat and wait for her to join me. She struggles with her luggage. Weak. Just as I thought. I don’t know what she imagines, but Alaskan oil industry, building a pipeline, is no business for a chick.
Thrumming my fingers on the steering wheel, I start up the truck right as she shuffles into the passenger seat.
“Thank you,” she breathes as she pulls off her ski cap and pushes her hand through her hair, making it stand in all different directions.
Her cheeks are flushed, her hair is short, black, and spiky, she wears no makeup, and she’s as cute as they fucking come. Oh, yeah, that’ll get the starved guys going. She really has no business coming here.
I give her a glare and pull out onto the empty street. We’re the only vehicle in sight. Two unbearable hours in front of us. Fantastic.
Chapter Two
Casey
I don’t want to cry, but I feel like a little girl who has been slapped on the fingers. My last few weeks have been hell, and I’m not in a good place right now. The news of Alex’s release from prison, the decision to leave family, friends, my place, my work, and run. The journey here—exhaustingly endless—and now I’m being treated like dirt by a juvenile, bigoted, antisocial piece of shit. And a women hater to boot.
Despite the reasons behind it, the fact that I’m fleeing, I’ve still been excited about this journey. I’m used to fighting against prejudice but being met with verbal abuse before we’ve even presented ourselves is pretty damn discouraging.
Glancing over at him, I shrink back by the hostility in his glare. I swallow hard, and try to look unperturbed, but when he rips off his ski cap, throws it in the back, and then looks me over, I widen my eyes at the sight. Behind the oil and filth that streaks his face hides a gorgeous specimen of a man. He’s got light brown eyes, a straight nose, high cheekbones, and a rough dark brown beard that looks more like he simply forgot to shave than something that’s been cultivated. There’s a caveman air about him, rough, brutal, competent. He’s everything I find hot in a man, and fuck me, I definitely didn’t come here looking for a guy. Actually, I don’t want to be with a guy ever again. Me, my cars, the dudes in the crew, a couple of dogs, maybe a boat in the future, those are my plans for my life. This? No.
My new best enemy leans over and reaches for me. I stiffen, thinking he’s out for me somehow, but all he does is reach for the belt and snaps it in place. His eyes darken as he looks me over, and seems to sniff me. I shrink back as the air between us gets uncomfortably hot. As suddenly as he moved in on me, he pulls back, a sneer on his lips.
“I was gonna—”
“Stupid,” he mutters, puts the gear in drive and pulls out.
“Well, nice to see you too,” I sneer, my heart slamming in my chest. Stupid fucking piece of shit!
“You try that sarcasm on someone who cares.”
“Well, you’re a right ray of sunshine, aren’t you?”
He doesn’t answer. A muscle at the side of his jaw clenches and unclenches. He looks really pissed off and I wonder what the hell I did to make him so insta-angry with me.
“How far is it?”
He cuts me a glance. “Regrets already?”
“It’s a normal question,” I sneer.
“Too long.”
I grit my teeth as I try to push down the annoyance. He’s a piece of shit. A pretty piece of shit, but they come in all shapes. Unbuckling the belt, I tear down the zipper and squirm out of my oversized jacket, throwing it in the back. I’m sweating buckets. The heat in the car is cranked up to sauna levels.
“Can we turn down the heat?” Buckling back up, I reach for the control on the dashboard when I get a slap on my fingers. I. Get. A. Slap. On my fingers. As if I’m a kid.
“Wha—”
“Don’t touch my truck.”
“What are you? Five? I’m burning up.” I unbuckle again and pull off my sweatshirt, tossing it behind me and buckle up once more.
The brute looks me over, his gaze lingering level with my breasts before he looks back at the road, his lips twisting into a grimace. “Two fucking hours,” he mutters.
“What?”
“Are you deaf? You asked a question. I answered.”
Two hours? I think back to our conversation. Oh. “The trip to the site.”
That is long. Really long. Riding with this dude, it’s gonna take forever.
He scoffs. “At least one functioning brain cell.”
“Oh, my God! Why you gotta be so mean?” I slam my hands to the dashboard not to dart into it when he comes to an abrupt stop, the truck skidding on the snowy road.
“You tricked your way here somehow. A girl has no business on the site. You can cook, and clean the toilets, and that’s about it. I’m not endangering my men by letting you tamper with the equipment.”
I gape. Tampering? Endangering? He doesn’t know shit about me. “How very misogynistic caveman of you. I don’t answer to you. And I know what I’m doing.”
“I guess we’ll find that out sooner rather than later, won’t we?”
He turns the wheel, and we’re moving again.
Dick.
I cross my arms over my chest, staring out the window, trying to shut out his demanding presence. The heat is suffocating, the silence between us even worse. I glance at the clock. Fifteen minutes. We’ve been on the road for fifteen minutes. A movement in the corner of my eye makes me glance at
him. I have to hide the triumphant smile. He turned down the temperature several notches.
“Hot?”
His lips tighten, but he doesn’t answer.
“So who did you piss off to have to pick me up?”
No answer.
“Got a name?”
Still no answer.
“Oh, my God,” I say, throw up my arms and shuffle away from him, half turning against the window.
“I didn’t piss off anyone. I was out of luck. And it’s Hooper.”
“Hooper. As a first name?”
“Nah. Cole.”
“Well, I’m Keagan. Casey. Nice to meet you.”
Cole scoffs. “Nice to meet me? You’re full of shit.”
“No more than you.”
He inhales sharply. “You don’t know anything about me.” His voice is dangerously calm, a low growl. “Shut that pretty little mouth of yours, or I’ll shut it for you.”
I swallow whatever retort I had planned. “Are you threatening me?” I finally choke out.
“Not even close. But I’ll tie you up and duct tape you if I need to. Don’t make the mistake to think I wouldn’t.” He shoots me a quick glance; his eyes have darkened, a wicked glint passes them as he looks me over.
I shrink back and cross my arms over my chest. “You’re insufferable,” I mutter, more to myself than to Cole. “Are you all like this?”
Tie me up. It’s... It’s wrong, but his words make my cheeks burn and I’m glad that I’m already covering my chest because my nipples turn rock hard in an instant. I exhale shakily. Jeez.
“Wanna go back yet?”
“Fuck you.”
I scream as the car comes to a sudden stop again and Cole is suddenly nose to nose with me. I search frantically for the door handle to get it open and get out, but he grabs it, cornering me.
“What are you—”
“You. Are not. Cut out for this. If you mouth off once more, I will bundle you up and throw you in the back, got it?”
I swallow hard and meet his raging gaze. “That’s illegal,” I whisper. My heart races in my chest but between my legs heat builds. Holy shit.
“See any cops around?”
I fight the unwanted pull, inhaling on a shudder. “It doesn’t make this lawless land.”
“Damn near does.”
“Are you all like this?”
He scoffs and straightens, letting go of the handle. “I’m one of the good guys.” His eyes soften slightly as he looks me over, then he shakes his head. “You’re just a girl. What are you even doing here?”
Sorrow claws inside my chest as I think of home. Of Mama and Papa, the racetrack, the adrenaline, the routine work that has kept me sane. “Why are you so hostile?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. You’re not gonna cry, are you?”
“Makes you feel like the shit you are?” I wipe my nose on my sleeve. I’m not crying. Not for him.
“You’re not gonna have it easy with that attitude, girl.”
“I don’t expect easy. I’m not stupid, and I’m no ‘girl.’”
He scoffs. “You look like you’re barely out of high school.”
“I’m twenty-six,” I mutter.
“Why’d you pretend to be a guy?”
“I didn’t.”
“Boss thought—”
“Boss assumed. That a different animal. I didn’t say anything.”
“So you hid it.”
“I didn’t.”
“Can you honestly say it didn’t cross your mind it might be clever not to mention Casey wasn’t a guy? Like, maybe you wouldn’t have been offered the job.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek as I stare out at the eternal white plains. Of course it was intentional. I’m so lucky not to be called Kate or something equally obviously girly. Of course I’d have been denied.
“Cat got your tongue, little one?”
Little one? Oh, for fuck’s sake. He says all the right things that in any other setting would have made me crazy curious on who he is behind that facade.
“Why do you hate me so much?” I turn and look him over, his near-perfect profile, that tousled hair, those full lips. I tear my eyes off him just as he meets my gaze.
“Because you’re a liar and you’ll endanger my crew. I’ll make sure you’re put on the next plane back, then I’ll forget this ever happened.”
He’s getting to me. His barrage of loathing makes it increasingly difficult to push down the jittery anxiety that has set root in my chest. Maybe this was a mistake after all?
“I’ve had to prove myself, over and over. My whole life. This is no different.”
“This is very different, girl. This is like nothing you’ve ever seen before.”
“You have no idea what I’ve seen before. You don’t know me, yet here you are, spewing your prejudiced shit all over me. And stop calling me girl.”
“Ready to call it yet?”
“Fuck you.”
“Not with a ten-foot pole.”
He sounds so disgusted it makes my heart twinge. I’m not here for anyone’s approval, but what the fuck? Give me a break.
“How long before we get there?”
“You need to pee?”
“No? Why?”
“Because you sound like a kid.”
“Oh, my God! Whatever. And no, I don’t need to pee. I’ll just shut up from now on.”
“Good.”
“Okay.”
I focus on breathing through my nose, slow, deep breaths, trying to calm my racing heart. I want to hit him. I’m not a violent person, but I really want to slap this obnoxious man’s face.
He doesn’t speak. Neither do I. He seems stressed, jittery. He sighs. Thrums his fingers on the steering wheel.
“So, how long’ve you been out here?” I have to break this silence or his fiddling will drive me crazy.
At first I think he’s ignoring me, but then he runs a hand through his hair and throws me a glance. “Year and a half.”
“Do you like it? That’s a long time, isn’t it? Contracts are four months at a time. Right?”
“People come and go. Work like this, everybody has their reasons.”
“And what is your reason?”
His eyes go nearly black. “That is none of your fucking business.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
The silence builds between us. All that is heard is the humming of the engine. I’m mortified. I have my reasons that I’ll never tell anyone here. Clearly he has too, and I just stepped over the line big time.
“Piece of advice, Casey Keagan, you don’t ask. Keep your head down. Do your shifts. Sleep. Eat. Take a dump. Don’t talk. Don’t prod.”
I swallow hard, glancing at the clock on the dashboard. Half an hour until we get there. What hell is awaiting me?
“Okay. Thanks.”
I’m becoming less and less sure about how clever this decision was.
Chapter Three
Cole
‘What is your reason?’
For a moment I was grateful that she pulled me out of my thoughts. Then she had to go and ruin it by being nosy. I glance at her. She stares straight forward, her lips tense. She’s got a little button nose, olive skin, almond-shaped, hooded eyes that are so deep brown they almost appear black. And her mouth. Those lips will be hard not to stare at. They’re so full that you’d think she’s gone overboard with fillers, but I probably know better than most guys about that fake look you get from them, and this chick’s lips are natural. She’s got an odd appearance and I can’t decide if she looks Latina, or Asian, or maybe it’s a mix.
Her eyes flicker. I know she knows I’m looking, but she refuses to acknowledge me. Might as well. I’m not interested and I’ll make fucking sure she’s booked on the next flight out. If not for our sake, then hers. She’ll be crushed here. Physically, or mentally, whichever comes first. There are men here who should never go near a woman.
“Ten more minutes,” I say.
To say something. I suddenly feel a bit guilty for being such an ass.
She hugs her arms tighter to her chest. “Okay,” she mutters, never looking my way.
Her mood pisses me off. I tried. Well, fuck it then. We finally reach the construction site, pass the trailers, the large tents with equipment and the pipe parts, gigantic steel cylinders, the crane that needs fixing, the racks of gas canisters, and eventually we reach the last trailer that contains the little office.
I side-eye the girl again; her head keeps whipping left and right and her eyes are wide as she takes it all in. I look at my workplace and try to see it as a newcomer would. It’s huge, it’s dirty, and it’s loud. The pace is inhumane, and despite the safety regulations, it’s dangerous work. I wasn’t intimidated when I got here, many are, but I was so fucked up and pissed with everything that I didn’t care. I just told the boss to point me at what to do and then I learned as I went along. Turned out I had a knack for welding, for creating flawless seams without any cracks. I’m also built as a rock and hard work has never scared me.
I pull up outside the office and kill the engine, throwing out my arm, gesturing for the trailer, impatient to get her out of here. It’s a little past five in the afternoon, and I’ll have time for a shower before dinner if I hurry.
“In there. Knock yourself out.”
She looks intimidated at first, looking between me and the chipped brown door, then resolve settles on her face and she unbuckles and reaches for the handle.
“I have to get my things.”
I shrug and cross my arms over my chest. Casey gives me one last look, a whole slew of emotions crossing her face, then she hops out. I listen to her rummaging in the back, then the back-door slams closed, and everything goes silent. Well, that was an unexpected afternoon. Reaching for the key, I then change my mind as curiosity takes over and I hop out of the car, closing the door carefully behind me. I lean against the door, my gaze intent on the trailer. I just have to hear this.
At first it’s quiet, then a man’s voice, then Casey’s. I strain to hear what they’re saying.
Commanding Casey Page 2
