A Solemn Creed (Texas Oil Book 5)

by Dakota Black

  “Keys.”

  “Yes. I have no idea what they were for. Just a bunch of keys.”

  “The person who took them knew what they were looking for,” he whispered.

  She groaned. “Whoever took them betrayed me. And I will hunt the asshole down.”

  “My sweet Amber. There is much at stake. Your father entrusted me with a copy of the key, but you must go to the box immediately. If this person has your father’s keys, it’s only a matter of time before they expose the information and it will destroy you.”

  Amber shook her head. “The box at the house? I’ve been through everything. Nothing is making any sense.”

  Jorge squeezed her hand. “Safe deposit box.”

  “Where?”

  “There is a little bank just outside of town. Your father used to do business there. They would never work with a man like Bart.”

  “And what am I going to find?”

  His eyes flashed. “Answers.”

  Amber sat in the parking lot of the hospital. The darkness was comforting, giving her a quiet moment of peace. She squeezed her hand around the piece of metal and sighed. The single key was tiny and according to Jorge, magical, providing her with the concept of a future. She slid down in the seat and debated whether she wanted anything to do with this kind of future. If what her godfather had said was close to the truth, she would be forced to make certain decisions.

  And she’d freaking promised to go with Camden to Dallas. The last thing on her agenda was some damn trip. What could he have to offer her there anyway? Why had everything in her life turned to shit? She looked at the time on her phone and grimaced. It was after midnight. After starting the engine, she debated calling Camden. Not yet. She needed time to process what Jorge had told her as well as to go through the rest of the ledger by herself.

  This was her responsibility and she was going to be forced to take the situation seriously. “Damn it!” She gripped the steering wheel and threw the gear into drive. She also needed to talk with the police. Everything was a freaking mess. Pressing down hard on the accelerator, she roared out of the parking lot, her windows down, the music blaring. Maybe the fresh air would actually clear her aching head.

  Nothing was calming her nerves or her anger. She grabbed her phone then dropped it. Her instinct was to call Camden and they could figure everything out together. They would go to the safe deposit box in the morning. Yes, that would work. Then they could figure out what these contracts meant. Everything would be just fine. Dandy in fact.

  She snorted, her thoughts drifting to having her head examined. The remainder of the drive was no more calming than fighting with a rattler. She was on edge, but she knew in her gut that if anyone could help find the answers, Camden would. Maybe the simple fact was that she wanted him with her.

  His mouth. His hands. His tongue. His dick. The smile was easy, her lurid thoughts giving her chills for all the right reasons. As she rolled over a pothole, the jeep dipping then jerking, she reveled in the ache her shorts were giving her backside. She fanned her face and envisioned the way he’d gazed down at her, his violet eyes peering into her very soul, and commanded her to suck him. If only she could suck the man dry every day.

  Now, what would her father have to say about that? He’d no doubt wash her mouth out with soap, just like Camden. Giggling, she made the turn into the ranch and swiveled in her seat, the friction creating a wave of heat, forcing her nipples to harden. She slipped one hand into her tank top and past the thin lace of her bra, pinching her already stiff peak. Being this turned on had to be a sin in some county in Texas.

  Her giggle turned into a full laugh and she realized she’d never been to Dallas. The couple of days away from the madness might do her some good. If Jorge took a turn for the worse, she could always come back straight away. Yes. This was a good plan. Pulling up to the house, she cut the engine and leaned over the steering wheel. The beautiful clapboard house really was the only place she’d known as home.

  And Dallas wasn’t that far away. Right? She could continue dating Camden and see what happens. She grabbed her purse and jumped out of the jeep. Maybe Jorge’s attempt at matchmaking had gotten to her. She unlocked the door and walked inside.

  There was a light coming from the kitchen. Camden must have left a light on. Yes. Stop being jumpy. She hesitated then took very silent steps toward the kitchen, darting her head into the door. As expected, the light over the sink was on. There was no one waiting to grab her or otherwise.

  She dropped her bag onto the counter and pulled a bottle of water from the refrigerator. First things first. A call to Camden. Then she was going to have to pack at least a few things. Then she’d have to wake Chowder and let him know. She trusted him enough to take care of everything while she was gone. As she created several lists in her mind, she pulled out her phone, dialing Camden’s number.

  Voicemail.

  “Hey. Call me. We need to talk before you leave. I just can’t believe everything that’s happened. Plus, I think it’s best that I go with you. Yeah, Jorge talked me into it.” She laughed and eased against the counter. “Call me. I don’t care what time it is.”

  She eased the phone down and brushed her hand over it. He’d call soon enough. What in the hell was she going to take with her? Heading up the stairs, she was on the top landing when her skin began to crawl. Swallowing, she peered around her. Her skin was prickling, hair on the back of her neck standing up on end. Beads of sweat trickled down from her forehead and she had difficulty breathing. Why? There was nothing amiss, no distinct smells. Nothing.

  She’d never had this kind of reaction in her own house, but she trusted her instinct. Keeping her steps silent, she avoided the areas where the older wood creaked as she headed for her bedroom. The door was closed. Had she closed it earlier? She could no longer remember. Holding her breath, she moved into the first bedroom, turning on the light. Everything appeared normal.

  The guest bathroom was silent, only a slight drip of the bathtub faucet. The second bedroom was also empty, only a few boxes and a dresser nestled inside. She continued on her path and when she reached the door of her bedroom, she froze, unable to move. This was ridiculous. There was no boogeyman. There was no asshole waiting for her to come home at some ungodly hour.

  In quick motions, she threw open the door and found the overhead light. Seeing nothing but her crumpled comforter and pillows strewn across the bed, she sighed. Her nerves were getting the best of her.

  As she rummaged through the closet, determining the perfect suitcase, she contemplated what kind of attire would be best suited. After five minutes of being unable to make a decision, she remembered she’d left her phone in the kitchen. She trotted downstairs, the same anxious feeling remaining in the pit of her stomach. Maybe she needed a glass of wine to calm her nerves.

  Amber waited at the bottom of the stairs, listening for any sounds. The grandfather clock was ticking, a gentle reminder of her father. There were no other noises until she heard the chirping of her phone. She darted into the kitchen, pressing her hand across her mouth to keep from laughing. She’d been reduced to a chick out of a horror movie. She grabbed the phone, almost pushing it to the floor. When she managed to wrap her hand around the thick plastic case, she answered the call without looking.

  Static.

  “Camden? Can you hear me?” Fantastic. She couldn’t hear a thing. “Call me back. We have a bad connection.” The call had already ended, and she stood waiting for a full two minutes before deciding on the wine. Sleep would be minimal tonight.

  Given there were no bottles of chilled white wine, merlot would have to do tonight. She turned on the small radio nestled in the corner and rummaged to find her wine opener. After cutting away the foil, she shoved her hand into the trash. “Ouch!” Yanking her hand into the light, the pinprick on her finger already had a spot of blood. Hissing, she yanked out the trash, ready to crush the hell out of the flowers.

  “What the hell?”

&nb
sp; Anticipating seeing the entire bunch, she exhaled, her body shaking. Very gingerly she pulled the remaining stalks into the light. The two denuded roses were the only flowers in the trash. Dropping the entire can, she tossed the flowers into the sink and backed away, trying to control her increasing heart rate.

  Someone had been inside the house. What if the asshole was hiding, waiting for her return? What did they want? She had no valuables to speak of. None.

  Think. Think! One of the guns. She’d been a fool not to carry a gun with her at all times. Suddenly, the living room seemed like a hell of a long way to go. But there was no other choice. She jammed her phone into her back pocket and eased out into the hallway, once again listening. Moving as quietly as possible, she headed straight for the living room, turning on the lamp next to the gun cabinet. There were no missing rifles.

  The smell hit her, one she’d know anywhere. Roses. Shaking, she turned around. The roses. The vase. They were positioned on her coffee table, as if placed for her enjoyment. As if drawn to their scent, their former beauty, she walked toward them, her heart racing. Oh, no. Oh, fuck no. She had to get out of the house. Now. She noticed a piece of cardboard with what appeared to be red ink. This was insane. Her legs heavy, she took the two steps closer, picking up the jaggedly cut square. The words were written in blood red.

  Bitch. Bitch. Bitch.

  “No!” Fear swept into every crevice in her body and she backed away, blinking as she tried to focus, attempted to make sense of what was happening. Turning, she raced toward the door just as it opened. Just as two hands grabbed her arms.

  And she knew she was going to die.

  Chapter 12

  “Whoa! I’ve got you. What’s wrong? Amber. Calm down.” Camden wrapped his arms around her, pressing her head against his chest and peering inside the open door. The single scream had ripped at his heart.

  “Camden. Oh my God. It’s you.” Shivering, she clung to him.

  “I heard you scream.”

  “Why is this happening. Why?”

  Narrowing his eyes, he scanned the area in front of her house. After a few seconds, he released his hold and took a step away, lifting her chin. “What’s going on?”

  “There was someone in my house. They left me a message,” Amber half whispered, her voice shaking.

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Holding out her hand, she took several deep breaths. “The roses. I threw them away. When I returned from the hospital, they were on my coffee table with a note. Bitch.”

  He kept his voice even. “Where did you get the flowers?”

  “Initially, I thought Bart Randolph sent them, but now I’m not so certain. Maybe Kyle.”

  “That would make sense. Let me see.” Kyle. He was going to have one hell of a confrontation with the jerk.

  She glanced at the sky. “If these bastards wanted a war. They’ve got one.”

  “Then we need to plan. Come on.” He nodded toward the door.

  Walking inside, she took tentative steps as she walked down the hallway, pointing toward the coffee table. “You can see for yourself.”

  Camden squeezed her arm before taking long strides, glaring down at the note. Given what Drago had said, Kyle might have been trying to send her a message, but a certain nagging remained. This didn’t seem like anything that Drago had told him. “Anything else missing?”

  “The only room I haven’t been in is the office, but they already took what they came here to find.”

  “The ledger?”

  Her eyes opening wide, she exclaimed before heading to the office, struggling to turn on the light. She walked into the middle of the room, turning in a full circle. “Everything looks the same.” Jerking the lid off the box, she peered inside, rummaging through the contents. “The ledger is here.”

  Exhaling, he tried to put the pieces of the puzzle together. “Maybe you came home too soon.”

  “That would mean someone knew I was away from the house.”

  “If they were watching your actions, they’d know.”

  “Camden. That would mean one of the people I’ve come to trust is working with the Randolphs. The only man capable was Drago.”

  “He was with me the entire time. I confronted him.”

  “And what the hell did he have to say?”

  Camden wasn’t prepared to explain their new working relationship. “He came clean about the fact he used to work for the Randolph Corporation.”

  “Fucking fantastic. This gets better and better.”

  “I believe him when he told me that he’s here for revenge.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Revenge? For what?”

  “For a number of his crew dying given the working conditions on the rig.”

  “Bart. Such a slum lord.”

  He shook his head. “Not Bart. Kyle.”

  “Kyle? He’s never had anything to do with oil rigs. In fact, he just came back from college. Master’s degree from Harvard, or so I’ve heard. Course with Daddy’s money.”

  Inching closer, he touched her arm, rubbing up and down. “I haven’t had a chance to check Drago’s claim, but he said he worked for Kyle for three years in Alaska. Given the accident and the subsequent investigations, Drago said that Kyle quietly disappeared, turning the control back over to his father.”

  “That just doesn’t make any sense.” She looked away, nibbling on her bottom lip. “If this is true, then maybe Kyle has been promised a new refinery site.”

  “That’s entirely possible but from what I can tell, Bart is culpable as well.”

  Slumping against the desk, she pressed the tips of her fingers against her forehead. “Okay, then what? What are we missing? We already know that Bart is pushing for the ranch. We know that given his offer placed in my hand. Why bother with any additional cheap threats?”

  “That may be the very catalyst we need to figure out. Maybe the threats were actually issued by Kyle.”

  A look of disgust popped onto her face. “No wonder he was at the bar that night. He was checking up on me.”

  “Could be, but we need to grab the upper hand on this, play hardball.”

  She laughed. “Hardball I like. What do you suggest, because I’m all out of ideas?”

  He thought about the options for both of them. “You are coming with me to Dallas. I won’t take no for an answer. You have limited options.”

  “I…”

  “I’m serious. I understand about Jorge, and I promise you that I’ll fly you back on a private jet, but I’m getting you out of here. Plus, I think your help is definitely needed.” Camden wasn’t ready to divulge what both he and Mitchell had in mind.

  Nodding, she wrapped her hand around his shirt, tipping her head. “I’ll agree to come with you, but there is something we have to do in the morning.”

  “What’s so important?”

  After digging into her pocket, she pulled out a key. “Answers.”

  Camden laughed. “A safety deposit box. No wonder the keys were stolen.”

  “Yeah. Whatever is inside is worth killing for,” Amber whispered.

  Anger boiled within him. “First things first. We’re calling the police.”

  “They’ll think I’m nuts, Camden.” Amber shook her head.

  “You have solid evidence that someone broke into your house. We need this on the record, just in case things go south.” What little he knew about Bart meant the man would come out swinging. The wild card was Kyle. His sights were set and with Drago’s help, the Randolph Corporation as well as the Diamond D Ranch were going down.

  “I understand, Sergeant. I appreciate your call.” Amber clenched her fist. “Yes, I understand these things take time. If there is anything else you need from me, please give me a call.” She held the phone out. “Bastard.”

  “Fire Investigator?”

  “Yeah. Doing his job.” She paced the marble floor, muttering under her breath.

  Camden knew finding any evidence was a long shot,
especially after what the police hadn’t found at Amber’s house. There was no appearance of a break in and no fingerprints of any kind. Even the lettering on the note, which was crude block, written in such a way as to simulate blood, had been forged in such a way that anyone could have written them. The police had been very nice, taken her statement, asked a few additional details about the accident involving Walt and left, giving her zero promises. “What did the sergeant say?”

  Snorting, she continued pacing. “That the bomb could have been built by any teenager with a knack for using tools and basic purchases from Walmart. In other words, a cold day in Hell before they were going to catch anyone.”

  “But they’re still investigating?”

  “I guess. What do you really think they’re going to find? David versus Goliath in regard to Randolph’s goons, especially if his son is involved.” She stopped short and wrinkled her brow. “Kyle. I’ve been thinking about this. He was always an asshole. Very aggressive. If Drago wants revenge, then whatever occurred in Alaska must have been off the chain.”

  “Drago didn’t give me many details, only insisting that Kyle was to blame. He was beaten after giving Kyle a threat to turn in the operation.”

  “Then why hasn’t Kyle taken him out?”

  Camden had thought about this more than once since hearing Drago’s explanation. “My guess? He’s using Drago to find out what the man will do. Keep your enemies close.”

  “There’s something off about this, Camden. I don’t trust Drago, not completely anyway.” Blushing, she tossed him a short look before moving toward the safe deposit boxes. “We can talk about this later. I want to get this over with.”

  “I understand.”

  “I thought about telling the cops the keys were stolen, but I knew they’d think I was losing my mind.”

  He placed his hand on her neck, massaging. “Step at a time. Going to Dallas will help.”

  “And I can’t wait to hear why.”

  His heart was racing. While this was something that had to be done, the risks involved were tremendous.