by Dakota Black
“An explosion,” one of the ranch-hands stated as he hunkered over, wheezing. “We’re trying. It’s too damn hot.”
“It just flashed,” Walt stated as he held his head. He stood staring up at the sky, bewildered.
“No. What?” She pushed her way through the crowd of firemen.
Crack! Slam!
A ball of fire rushed into the night sky.
She took off running.
“You can’t go that way, miss,” a fireman called, trying to pull her back.
Amber managed to get out of his hold. “No. I have to see my men, my cattle. What happened?”
“Amber! You need to come here. We have a man down,” Jorge called, his tone full of angst.
She turned in the direction of his voice. The fire burned hot, the smoke rolling, the stench putrid. She coughed and held her arm over her face as she stumbled toward him.
Jorge lunged toward her, gripping her arm. “It’s bad. I have no idea what happened. They must have set explosives to go off on a timer.”
“What?” Blinking several times, her eyes watered as the billows of smoke continued. Firemen were everywhere, water spewing from their hoses, creating a hissing sound. “Jorge. Who’s hurt?”
He shook his head. “I tried to get to him. I tried to stop him from what he was doing, but he was insistent.”
“Who? Who was hurt? Please tell me!” Another rumbling sound occurred as a second blast could be heard from a distance. Cattle were everywhere, running away from the fire. The chaotic scene was difficult to process. “Jorge. We have to save the cattle.”
“Amber. Listen. To. Me.” Jorge flanked her side. “He’s not breathing.”
“Who?” she screeched. “Jorge. Talk to me. Who’s not breathing?”
He shook his head. “Camden.”
Camden exhaled and as he opened his eyes, he winced. The light was blinding, creating a wave of pain in his forehead. He rolled over and closed his eyes, willing the stiffness to go away. The last thing he remembered was the damn box he’d noticed nestled under some brush. He’d seen enough in his life to know explosives when he saw them. Yeah, he’d been a fool going near it. Then the explosion.
Given he hadn’t even come within five feet of the device, meant someone was close by, watching. The bomb had to have been on a remote control of some kind. He didn’t know the area well enough, but there were certainly damn good places to hide. Willing the pain to subside, he attempted to sit and doubled over, holding his stomach and panting. Coughing, he wiped his mouth and brushed soot from his face. He also felt a single bandage on his forehead. The last thing he remembered was everything going black.
As he exhaled, he realized he certainly wasn’t in a hospital nor was he in his cabin. Blinking in order to focus, he finally recognized the room. He was in Amber’s bedroom. Given the light level, he realized that it was at least late morning. Throwing back the sheets, he eased first one leg then the other down to the floor. Every muscle in his body ached and he felt like he’d been used as a punching bag.
The attempt to stand was met with a rush of nausea. Panting, he waited until the moment passed before trying again, finally struggling to his feet. Staggering, he headed toward the bathroom, slapping his hand against the light switch. The harsh lighting made him wince again and he padded toward the sink, leaning over to catch his breath. When he looked at his reflection, he groaned.
Yeah, he’d gone ten rounds with some bulking dude. Forget the ring. Scratches covered his face and neck. He touched the bandage, picking at the tape. Every move was taking him twice as long, but he finally managed to peel it away. While the gash wasn’t deep, the cut would no doubt leave a scar.
After washing his face, neck and arms, he slowly maneuvered back into the bedroom. His shirt had been tossed in the corner. Even from where he was standing, he could see that it was covered in strings of dried blood.
Tap. Tap.
He turned his head toward the cracked door. “Yeah?” He was already exhausted, his throat parched, creating little more than a hoarse whisper.
Jorge opened the door and walked inside. In his hands was a stack of clothes. “You shouldn’t be out of bed.”
“I’m fine.”
“Yeah. I can tell. You look terrible.”
The moment he laughed, he doubled over again. “Don’t make me laugh.”
Walking closer, Jorge shook his head. “You’re damn lucky to be alive, son. What did you think you were doing? You’re not Superman.”
“A bomb.”
“Yeah, so the firemen said. A bunch of investigators and the police are going through the rubble now. Crazy bastard you are.”
“I didn’t touch it,” Camden managed and sat down on the edge of the bed.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he coughed and wiped his mouth. “That I just noticed the damn thing but never got close to it.”
“Huh. Must have been set on a timer.” Jorge laid the clothes on the dresser.
“Or set off after I got close.”
“Wait a minute. You think that someone was waiting to set off the explosives?”
Camden shifted. “Bomb. The device wasn’t a cheap creation by some cowboys for a revenge shot.”
“How would you know that?”
“I’ve had my share of bomb scares.” Camden thought about the single time at the Rush headquarters, not long after his step up to CEO. He sensed Jorge studying him.
“You aren’t just a ranch hand, are you, Camden?” Jorge lifted a single eyebrow.
“I’ve been around.”
Jorge walked closer, darting a glance over his shoulder. “Miss Amber doesn’t need any additional grief right now. She’s dealing with a lot. I appreciate your help, but if you’re here for any subservient reason, I need you to heal then leave.”
“I’m not here to destroy her ranch or try and steal it out from under her. I care about Amber, maybe more than I should.” Camden realized he did, more than he wanted to say. “Someone was watching the ranch last night. Any idea who?” While he had his thoughts, he wanted to see how connected Jorge was.
“She has surveillance cameras and pissed off members of the Randolph crew. I would guess they were bucking for retaliation.”
“She has that way about her.” Camden pushed his way off the bed. “A smoker.”
“A smoker?”
The slight strangle of Jorge’s voice caught his attention. “Anyone on the crew smoke?”
“Not that I know of,” Jorge said and nodded toward the clothes. “Miss Amber wanted you to stay here. Had the paramedics look you over. I brought you some clothes from your cabin. Hope you don’t mind.”
“Why did she bother? I’m fine.”
“You need rest and she insisted. Just take your time getting better. You weren’t breathing for several minutes.”
“I’ll be ready for work on Monday.”
Jorge gave him a once over before walking toward the door. He stopped just inside the doorway. “I like you. I already told you that, but if you’re out to hurt Amber, I will be the one with a gun in his hand. Know that.”
“Point taken.” The man knew someone on the crew was watching Amber’s house. And he didn’t need his gut to tell him who. Drago.
“Oh, and I brought your truck.”
“Appreciate it.” Camden offered a half smile.
“One more thing. There’s a barbeque here tomorrow. Amber wanted to give some thanks to the crew. If you’re up for it, I wouldn’t mind your help.” Jorge offered a crooked smile.
Camden grabbed the clothes and headed for the bathroom. “If she doesn’t throw me out, happy to help.”
After a quick shower, Camden walked down the stairs, every step driving a shot of pain into his ribs. She wasn’t in the kitchen or living room, but her jeep was just outside. He hobbled down the hallway, searching. A door at the end of the hall was open and he heard several cuss words and had to smile. The lady was in the house.
He labored as he walk
ed, finally standing just outside the door. She was on the floor, her legs crossed, sorting through a banker’s box. “Hi.”
“Shit!” Grabbing the lid, she tossed it on top of the box before craning her neck. “You look a hell of a lot better although you still look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”
He chuckled and touched the cut on his head. “Well, shucks. Thank you for such a fine compliment.”
Frowning, she narrowed her eyes.
“I’m fine. Can I come in?” The same electric sensations mixed with the muscle tension.
“Suit yourself.” Amber pushed the box aside and shifted to be able to see him. “I thought that…”
“That I was dead?” He laughed and walked further in. “No such luck.”
An awkward tension settled in.
“I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
“What about the fire? What happened?”
She eased her back against the desk and grimaced. “Lost a few acres of trees, seven cattle, but the damn shit could have been a lot worse.”
“What did the investigators say?” He glanced at the remaining papers on the floor. Several were covered in graphs, the majority in color. He inched closer. What was she hiding? He could just catch a couple words of the heading.
“Only that their investigation could take weeks. I might not have that long.”
“They’re just doing their jobs,” Camden said quietly.
She snickered. “That’s what I keep hearing from everyone. That fire was out of control.”
“There was a bomb planted on your property. You might suspect who is doing this, but without concrete evidence, there’s little you can do. I’d like to help you if I can.”
“I know perfectly good and well that Bart has the upper hand, but I’m tired of playing the fool.” Amber got up off the floor and folded her arms. “You can’t. There is nothing that you can help me with.”
“You mean you won’t allow me to help you and you’re no fool. You believe in people.” Camden sauntered even closer.
She shrunk back, refusing to look him in the eye. “Maybe once.”
“Meaning?”
“You lied to me about your reasons for coming to Rattlesnake Ranch.”
“About what? That I was here to try and find myself. That’s not a lie. That I care about you?” The words rushed from his mouth before he could stop them.
Her eyes opening wide, she swallowed. “You’re trying to tell me that you care about me when you don’t even know me?”
“You say that as if there is no way I could.”
“I think you care only about yourself. I don’t know who you are trying to fool, Camden, but as soon as you’re better, I want you off my property. Gone. Do you understand me?”
“Why? What in God’s name did I do?” He closed the distance, stumbling against the desk. Even from where he was standing, he could see her computer screen come alive from the jarring movement. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed his picture. “What?”
She caught his gaze and rushed to move around the desk.
But she wasn’t fast enough.
He grabbed her hand before she had a chance to change the screen. “What are you looking at?” He scrolled down, able to see the article and remembered the exact date the photograph was taken. “Why didn’t you just ask?”
“I did. I asked you exactly who you were and why you were here, and you lied to me. You. Fucking. Lied,” she snapped.
“My name is Camden Dane,” he hissed through clenched teeth.
“At least you got something right.”
“I’m the CEO of Rush Enterprises.”
“Oh, goody. Another truth,” she snarked and jerked out of his grasp.
He smacked his hand on the desk. “I never lied about who I was. I just didn’t want to tell you the reason. I didn’t think I had to. In fact, I thought you could trust me.”
“Trust is earned. You’re an oil man.”
“And what does that have to do with the tough financial shape you’re in?”
She snarled and turned toward the window. “My business.”
“One that might get you killed, in case you haven’t figured that out yet. That fire was intentionally set. Whoever did this won’t stop there. If you can’t learn to trust me, then you might lose everything.”
“Possibly by your hand. I read that article. I know what you want.” She winced and dropped her head.
“I’m not your enemy, Amber, but you better start looking in your own house, the people who are working for you and that includes that damn Russian you’re so attracted to.”
“I told you. I’m not attracted to him,” she snapped.
“Right and he’s not attracted to you. That’s why he was standing watch outside your house last night,” Camden stated and could tell by the flash in her eyes that she also believed Drago was spying on her.
She exhaled, a sneer on her face.
“If you want me gone, fine. I’m leaving this house right now.” He held his breath as he walked back around the desk and stopped as he stared down at the graphs. Struggling, he reached down, yanking one of the colored papers into his hand.
“Don’t you touch my things!” she barked, flying around the desk.
“Do you have any idea what this is?”
“These are my father’s things. Or they were.”
“These graphs are indications of oil and if I had the corroborating papers, I’d no doubt see that your father knew that there is oil under various locations on your land. Oil. And from what these show, a hell of a lot. I don’t know why or care as to the reason he held this back from you, but this is why Bart Randolph wants your property so damn badly and why he lowballed you. My guess is that the president of your financial institution is a close personal friend of Mr. Randolph. If I were you, I’d check that out. Happy to help since yes, I do run an oil company. I’m one of three men who built it from the ground up and trust me. We know oil. And you bet we’re looking to acquire additional land, increasing our holdings. That’s what corporations do, but that’s not the reason why I’m here. I had no idea who you were nor had I ever heard of the Rattlesnake Ranch.”
“I don’t know if I can believe you.”
He shook his head, forcing the anger and frustration back into the ugly little box. “You know? The chip on your shoulder is keeping you blind.”
She blinked several times, a single tear slipping past her lashes.
“But you don’t care about that in the least. You’re so certain of your beliefs that you’re blind to anything else. I’ll be at my cabin tonight. I’m leaving first thing in the morning and you’ll never have to see me again, so don’t worry.” Camden huffed and tossed the paper before heading toward the door.
He wanted her to say something. Anything. He prayed she would stop him, even race into his arms, but Amber Harding wasn’t that kind of woman. Anger swelled to the point he had difficulty seeing clearly and he stopped just inside the door, not bothering to turn back in her direction. “We all have secrets, Amber. Every one of us. Some are dark, feeding on the demons inside, clawing at the surface. I’ve lived a life full of them. And I’m tired of hiding. That’s why I came here. To find the man I used to be. If he even exists.”
When she said nothing. Nothing. He left, his heart heavy. What had he just done?
Minutes later, he sat in his truck, disgusted with his actions and even his decisions. He hadn’t intended on destroying what little trust she had in anyone, including herself, but she was in over her head. He grabbed his phone, eyeing the dark screen. All his good intentions of disappearing, even for a period of time, was shot to shit. His only recourse? To contact Mitchell and see if his friend had any knowledge of Bart Randolph or Drago Presidio. Coincidences he didn’t believe in. Drago already professed to know his identity. Was it possible that the Randolph family had their sights set on the Steele site as well?
At this point, anything was entirely possible.
H
e waited as his cell phone powered up, thinking about his various reasons for wanting to help a woman he knew little about. Love. Jesus Christ. Did he actually think he was falling in love with her?
Noticing several messages, he scrolled through them. When he noticed two from the reporter, he bristled. Whatever the woman thought she had, she was tenacious in her efforts and if he didn’t respond, he knew damn good and well she’d print whatever fabrication she desired. Her last message was very early this morning. Against his better judgment, he listened.
“Mr. Dane. This is Tawny Smith once again. As you are aware, I’ve been trying to talk to you for almost two weeks. I realize you’re a very busy and important man, but certain information has surfaced that I think you’ll want to respond to. The story could be… difficult for you.”
Difficult. He wiped sweat from over his lip and saved the message. At some point, he was going to have to find out what the hell Tawny Smith thought she had on him. Right now, other items were of vital importance. Mitchell.
Hitting speed dial, he held his breath, half expecting and perhaps hoping that the call would go to voice mail.
No such luck.
“Well, our long-lost buddy,” Mitchell said, a hint of anger in his voice.
“I left you a message before I left.” Camden leaned his head against the seat.
“Yeah? Okay. To take care of your ranch and nothing more. Where the hell are you?”
“Outside of El Paso.”
“Jesus Christ. You couldn’t have gone to some island at least?” Mitchell laughed. “Okay, I’m sorry. I should be pissed at you for running out and not only on the Board meeting.”
He rubbed his fingers across the steering wheel. “I need your help, Mitchell.”
“That’s the understatement of the year.”
“I’m serious. I wanted to get away, but I find myself embroiled in what appears to be extortion.” Camden laughed, hearing the way the words sounded. Ridiculous.
“Just what I wanted to hear,” Mitchell snorted.
He held back a bitter retort. Mitchell knew everyone in the oil industry, everyone influential, powerful or had a single connection.
“Okay. Okay. What?”
