by Dakota Black
Swallowing, she headed down the hallway then stopped. She wanted to see the sky, if for no other reason than to ground herself. She walked up the stairway and out in the air, biting her lip as she noticed the sky. Already darkened, light rain was falling, and the gusts of wind were enough to send chills into her body. She walked out further and could see dozens of crewmembers running, securing the deck. But she couldn’t see Nash anywhere.
A sadness crept into her heart and she wanted nothing more than to find him, huddle alone until the storm passed. No. She had a patient to tend to, one who needed her help. Nash was right about one thing; she was in the middle of something she shouldn’t be. She had no understanding of what was going on. However, trusting Tank wasn’t an option. No matter what Nash had told her, she refused to accept he was one of the good guys.
Folding her arms, she walked back toward the entrance, keeping her head down as she eased down the stairs. She passed no one on her way to the clinic and breathed a sigh of relief once she was inside. Flipping on the lights, she studied the area, checking every room. There was no one inside.
She itemized what she wanted to bring back and quickly gathered everything, finding a small bag in one of the closets. After looking at the scalpels, she took one, wrapping the end in gauze and slipping it into her pocket. If Nash was right, the perpetrator could use the storm as a cover, trying to hurt her. Like hell they would. The computer caught her eye. While there would be no way of getting emails, she wanted to kill off her email. No one needed to find out that she’d sent a message to her friend. The moment she sat down and shifted the mouse, she froze. The screen popped up to her emails. There was no way she would have left the page open. That meant someone had hacked in. Hair rose on the back of her neck as she tipped her head, studying the door, half expecting for someone to rush inside.
She flipped up and down and didn’t see anything that caught her attention. Just before she was ready to get out and kill off the program, she sat back, her finger twitching. Her inner voice told her to check the deleted emails. There was nothing out of the ordinary and definitely no emails from Sally. Had she left the program open? When was the last time she’d bothered looking? This morning before she left. She was certain of the fact and that she’d at least closed the program.
She eyed the screen, her little voice nagging her, egging her to continue looking. The recycle icon caught her attention. If someone found and deleted a message, maybe they wouldn’t think about the recycle. After clicking, she was stunned. An entire group of messages were there. She bit back a moan and searched. When she found the one she was looking for, the one that had come in after she’d left this morning, she felt her skin crawl.
The message was detailed but easy for any lay person to read. “Fuck.” Her suspicions were worse than she originally thought. Roger had been poisoned, the type something Sally hadn’t been able to identify, even forcing her friend to talk with experts in poison control. This was insane. She had to get back to Roger. Fumbling, she sat shaking as she tried to remember how to kill off the program. But if she did, what then? Another bit of evidence would be lost. She decided to leave the screen the way she found it and stood. She was trembling all over.
Roger. What would he need? Medicine. She thought about what kind of medicine was in the clinic. Nothing that would stop the inevitable. His cough. Yes, his cough would get worse. According to Sally’s message, he’d soon develop a fever as the poison began to break down his intestines. The poison wasn’t one she’d heard of before, but she’d dealt with similar symptoms before. She had to slow down his metabolism. “Think. You can do this. Think.”
She raced to the cabinets, pulling out various bottles, searching for anything that would buy her time, but how much time she wasn’t certain. She found enough that he might have a chance. Gathering everything together, she shoved the items in her bag and headed for the door. She’d administer the shot and clean his wound. Then she’d go and find Nash. He had to know what he was dealing with. Had anyone else been poisoned? Maybe. The effect would cause dizziness, even a giddy effect depending on the dose. Then a mild hallucinogenic effect, creating difficulty remembering tasks.
If other crewmen had been given the poison, they wouldn’t remember anything about what they experienced. Jesus. Whoever was on this rig had an ax to grind.
Turning off the light, she slipped out and kept her pace steady as she walked back to her room. Several crew members passed but paid her no attention. They were simply doing their jobs. As she opened the door, she expected to find Roger slumped in the chair. The bang on the head could force the symptoms to resurface much faster. Seeing an empty room, she held her breath. “Roger? Are you here?”
There was no place for him to hide except for the bathroom. Easing inside, she dropped the bag then listened again, her hackles raised. No, this wasn’t right. She backed up, scanning the perimeter. She had to get out, find Nash. The moment she stepped outside of the door, she heard his voice, the deep timbre that she would never forget.
“You’re coming with me.”
Wham!
Nash checked the employee listing then headed for Roger’s quarters. Veronica’s idea was worthwhile. After his conversation with Steven, he now had a better handle of who he could trust. He took long strides as he walked through the doorway, jumping down the stairs. The moment he approached Roger’s quarters, he noticed the door was slightly ajar. Hissing, he took a step to the side then pushed it open. The room had been torn apart. “Fuck!”
He took careful strides as he eased inside. The chair and table had been overturned and there was a dark substance on the floor. Crouching down, he brushed his fingers through the sticky glob, rubbing them together and sniffing. Blood. Roger had been attacked. He checked the bathroom. There were no other signs or warnings. The man had disappeared. A cold chill slithered down his spine. Everything was coming to a head.
A sudden series of images clouded his vision. Stumbling against the wall, he was taken back to the time spent in prison. Pushing his head between his hands, he moaned as he crouched over, pain tearing into his temple. Flashes of the past, ugly and nasty moments endured, sent sweat down the back of his neck.
“Hold him. He’s all mine.” The snarl was only matched by the demonic look in the man’s eyes, as if he owned Nash.
Nash backed away, his eyes sweeping the shower room. There was no escape. He’d have to fight or be taken. There was no fucking way another man was going to touch him. He took a fighting stance, ready to take on any man who took a step in his direction. He’d been warned to stay away from Crunch from day one. The three-hundred-pound man was all muscle and a solid ten percent of the inmates followed his tyrannical command.
“Well, he thinks he’s going to take us down.” Crunch sniffed and swaggered forward, a smile curling on his lip. “Let’s see what you got, pussy boy.”
Nash knew the disadvantages, understood he couldn’t win this battle. Moving from side to side, he made note of every approaching asshole. When one took another step, he lunged, the punch catching the guy just under the chin.
Crack!
The hard slam pummeled the man down to the tile floor. The others laughed. This was just a game, one of domination.
“Come on,” Nash encouraged, wearing a plastic smile of his own. On this day, he would leave his mark.
Crunch nodded as he came closer. “You’re all mine. And this is for killing Jasper.”
Nash groaned as the vision floated into the damning box he’d shoved the wretched memories. Why now? His body was convulsing as he concentrated on controlling his breathing. There was a reason for the flashback. He stood to his full height and sucked in his breath. Jasper. The man he’d beaten to death. He hadn’t thought about the comment since leaving prison. There had to be a significance. He thought about the trial, the volumes of people who’d lined the courtroom, chanting to have Nash judged, placed on Death Row.
He clenched his fists as he tried to remember. There’
d been so many people, supporters of a man who’d fucked up his life. Think. As a series of images floated past, he caught one then reeled from the understanding. There was no way. He had to be wrong. After wiping sweat form his eyes, he placed the snippet of knowledge in the forefront of his brain. If this was about revenge, the fuckers had another thing coming.
Veronica. They would try and destroy the one thing he cared about. He would stop at nothing to save her. Racing out into the hallway, he ran toward her room. The door was closed.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
“Come on. Open the door.”
Bam! Bam!
In his gut, he knew something was wrong. She wouldn’t just walk away, not without finding him. She would not have ignored his order. But what if she had? And for what purpose? He closed his eyes, envisioning her face, seeing her eyes. Think. Get a grip.
Hearing nothing, he took a step back and kicked in the door. The thudding sound reverberated in the hallways. He didn’t need to take any steps inside. The computer, along with the table, had been turned over, smashed. “Goddamn it!” He noticed the stuffed duffle bag placed by the door and jerked the handle, checking the contents. Finding the bag full of medical supplies, he hissed. She’d left her cabin. Blood. Roger’s blood. Roger had come to her door.
He tossed the bag and turned in a circle, trying to figure out what to do. The only access to the computer had been by Tank, which meant he would have been the only person who would have been able to see that she’d found the reports. Bristling, he searched the room then moved out into the hallway. Where would Tank have taken her? The memories remained, yet cloudy. But he knew she was in danger.
Heading for the clinic, he shoved open the door, storming inside and into the only room with light. The moment he entered the examination room, Sam jumped.
“Mr. Waters.” Sam threw up his hands and backed away from the computer.
There was no doubt by the look on the man’s face that he had information. “Where is she?”
“Who?” Sam swallowed hard, his eyes opening wide.
Nash took several long strides into the room, his eyes sweeping the area. “You know damn good and well.” Veronica’s distrust had given him reason to check on Sam’s employment file. He’d worked with Tank Williams before. He didn’t believe in coincidences.
“Veronica?”
“What part do you play in this?”
“What are you talking about?” Sam moved his hand across the mouse.
He took three long strides and had Sam’s throat in his hands, his fingers digging into the man’s skin. “Don’t fuck with me. What do you know about the men’s injuries?”
Flailing, Sam grabbed at Nash’s hands, his eyes bulging. “I… don’t…”
Squeezing, he slammed Sam’s body against the back wall. “You will tell me.”
“Okay!” His mouth drooped, saliva oozing past his lips.
He dropped the man yet kept his grip. “Who are you involved with? Tank?”
“Naa… naa…”
“Wait a minute. You were the one who gave both Veronica and me warnings. Weren’t you?” By the look on the man’s face, he knew he was right. “Why?”
Sam rubbed his neck and coughed before darting a glance at the door. “You don’t understand what you’re dealing with. They will kill anyone who gets in their way.”
“Who are we talking about?”
“I can’t tell you. They’ll do the same shit to me as they did to Roger. I tried to protect him but—”
“Who the fuck are we talking about? Tell me!” Nash snapped, fury brimming every surface.
“Mr. Waters. We need you on deck.”
The scratchy words came in on the Walkie Talkie, the tone laced with apprehension. “Who is this?”
“Walter. Walter Wright, sir. You said to call you if the storm got any worse. Well, we need to get everyone to safety. Now.”
The words hung in the air and Nash sucked in his breath. “I’ll be right there.” He pointed his finger at Sam. “You, stay here. Do not say a word to anyone. Do you hear me?”
“Not anyone. No one. I won’t, but listen to me. They want you. This is more about you.”
The words hit him hard. Nash turned and walked slowly toward him. “What?”
“Jasper.”
“Jasper.” Nash repeated the name and a cold chill washed into his system.
Sam nodded, his face pinched. “I don’t know all the details, but I was recruited just like Parker was. Yeah, they want to shut down Rush, but there’s more. They wanted you on this rig. They were trying to frame Tank because he knew everything about the fact more oil has been produced. He found out that a group had sold out. These military guys. I don’t know anything else, but you’re supposed to be here. They hurt Roger as well as other employees to keep them in line. That’s why records were deleted. He didn’t want to be a part of this. Just a kid. But they knew he would tell so they hurt him. I can’t let that happen. No more of this. I don’t care any longer.”
“What the fuck?” Nash raised his fist then seeing the man’s terrified eyes, he backed down, trying to grasp what the asshole was telling him. “Why? Jasper. That was a long time ago.”
“Not long enough for his brother. I only know what I was told. You must believe me. I didn’t want any of this. I thought we were all going to be rich. I did. I’m sorry.”
The words echoed in his ears. Brother. His mind reeling, he stormed out of the clinic. He’d give the final orders for everyone to sequester in their quarters, then he was going to find Veronica as well as the mother fucker responsible for the game of cat and mouse. One way or the other. Jasper.
He stumbled his way along the hall until he was in front of his cabin. His hand shaking, he fumbled to get inside. Then he fell to his knees as another flash memory permeated his mind.
“Yeah, we’re gonna fuck then cut you real good.”
Nash took a swing, connecting then was kicked in his gut. As he was tossed across the room, his back hitting the cold tile, he sagged. Every muscle hurt as he tried to sit up, to get to his feet.
Swaggering toward him, the smile was leering. “We were paid well by Jasper’s brother.”
Nash held his head between his hands as the memories, the pieces snapped together. The face was different, older, but the same man who’d been in the courtroom every day of the trial. He’d been working alongside him all this time on the rig. He sucked in his breath and controlled his breathing. He was a military man after all.
Rising to his feet, he walked toward the bed, yanking the small satchel from underneath and jerked the zipper. He pulled the sheathed knife into the light and fell into a moment of peace as well as one of control. He should have recognized the name, but his mind had played tricks, forcing him to forget the bitter ugliness. The asshole in prison had learned that no one would take him, not without bloodshed.
He shoved the knife into his waistband behind his back and stalked toward the door. He would go to every cabin, every dark location on the ship and he would find her. Then, he would kill the man.
Taking giant strides up the stairs and to the communications room, he swung open the door, allowing it to slam as it opened.
Walter jumped backwards, his hand over his heart. “There you are. I just didn’t…” His words cut short, he swallowed as he studied Nash’s face. “What’s wrong?”
“Where is he?”
“Tank?”
“You know exactly who I mean. The man you, as well as others, have been covering up for.”
Chapter 11
Veronica opened her eyes and winced as she tried to turn. She moaned as pain rushed into her temple. Blinking several times, she was finally able to focus after almost a minute. When she shifted again, she realized that she was tied, her arms and feet immobilized. She sucked in her breath and tried to remain quiet. What the hell was she seeing? The room was dark apart from the small window leading to the outside. She could hear the wind howling, the rig creaking from t
he powerful storm.
She struggled with her bindings and tried to think. What was holding her? Rope. The rope was thin, and she was able to wiggle just enough the binding loosened. If she could somehow get to the scalpel. Maybe she could free herself. She scooted forward. If she called out, maybe someone would find her. No way in the storm. There was too much noise already.
“What…”
She heard the muffled voice. “Roger?”
“Yeah… I…”
“Are you okay?”
He groaned. “I think so. Doctor?”
“I’m here. Damn assholes. We need to get out of here. Whoever did this will be back. Did they tie you up?”
“No. I don’t feel very well.”
No doubt the poor guy was coming close to having his organs shut down. Veronica took a deep breath. “Listen to me. I need you to come here. Untie me. Okay?” She heard scraping sounds then could just make out his form in the shadowed light. “I know you’re hurt but you can do this.”
Thump! Bam!
The rig rocked as a blast of wind hit the side. Cringing, she panted as she looked up at the window. Everything around her creaked and was moving. “Roger. Come on, honey. You can do this.”
“I’m… trying…”
She held her breath as Roger moved, inching closer. Then he thumped down, moaning. “Just a little closer. Okay?” As he tried to move again, she looked at her surroundings. The storage room was an area she hadn’t been to before and no one would look here, at least not at first.
“He’ll… come back.”
Roger’s voice echoed.
“That’s okay. Let’s make certain we’re out of here. Come on.” The encouragement seemed to work and within a few minutes, he was only a foot away.
“What do you want… me to… do?” His voice was hoarse, pained.
“I have a scalpel in my pocket. Use that if you can’t untie me. Okay?” She couldn’t get any closer and she held her breath as he struggled to sit up. “That’s it. You can do this.”
