Firestorm (6 page)

It was going to take some time for him to put a lid on the fury he’d worked up for the stalling bureaucrats on the state’s Oil and Gas Board. If the cocksucking politicians had their way, it would be months before GreenTex could start drilling on more of the properties they had leased.

All he could do now was sink more wells on Kate Black's land. At least his lawyer, Blake Tanner, had managed to talk the Board out of rescinding drilling permits they’d already issued for seven additional wells there.

“We didn't have much luck today,” he commented to Blake as he revved the car engine.

“Sorry. That explosion has them spooked. Just be glad they didn't rescind the permits we already have. In spite of all the points I argued, the’d have been within their rights to do that.”

“Yeah, sure. I appreciate your flying over here this morning. Not to mention keeping me from cutting loose with a major temper tantrum in that meeting,” he said after starting the car and pulling out into the downtown traffic.

“I need to pick up a drill bit, if you can spare the time,” he added when he noticed Blake’s apparent confusion at the direction he was going.

“I’m in no big hurry. Erin isn’t expecting me home until this evening.” The lawyer’s expression softened when he mentioned his pretty second wife.

Jake focused on the scenery. He shouldn’t envy his good friend Blake, who’d gone through hell before finding love again after his wife’s death, with the surrogate mother of his child.

Ann Jacobs

Firestorm

34

Downtown Jackson, except for the Capitol and State office buildings where they’d spent the morning, reminded him of an oversized ghost town. As in many fast-growing southern cities, the better stores had moved to sprawling malls. Jackson was worse than most, with its abandoned King Edward Hotel across the street from an ancient, dilapidated Amtrak station.

The ever-present scene of decaying buildings depressed Jake almost as much as wondering how he had managed to be as unlucky in love as he was lucky at finding oil underneath the ground.

Silently he searched for the machine shop where he was supposed to pick up a custom drill bit Skip had ordered. By the time he found the dingy building west of the railroad tracks, he didn’t much care if the damn bit was ready or not. It was, though, and he stashed it in the trunk before heading southeast toward Groveland, via the Jackson airport.

“How’s the family?” he asked Blake. He guessed that since his cousin Greg had married Blake’s sister-in-law, he and the lawyer were shirttail relatives of some sort.

“Growing. Erin’s due again in September, a month after Sandy. But I suppose Greg’s told you all about the boy they’re expecting.” Hank grinned as Jake pulled up to the small metal hangar that served as a terminal for noncommercial flights.

“Yeah. Guess I’ll be coming out to Dallas next month to meet the remarkable little guy.” Jake wondered if the baby Alice had destroyed would have been a boy or girl.

“See you then.” Blake slid out of the car, reaching back inside to get his briefcase.

“Hey, Jake, it's good to have you home again,” he said before he strode away toward his twin-engine Cessna.

Alone now with the sound of old show tunes surrounding him in the car, Jake let his thoughts wander. Hell, he’d barely been able to function the last three days, between trying to figure who was out to destroy his business and having a constant hard-on for Kate Black.

For the moment it wasn't the saboteurs as much as it was Kate boggling his mind.

And that made Jake furious. He should be putting all his energy to stopping the attacks on GreenTex before there wasn't any company left to save.

If he’d had a lick of sense he’d have taken her to a motel the other night and fucked her brains out. Maybe then he'd have gotten her out of his system.

But he hadn’t.

And the itch was still there. Just thinking about her had his cock hard and throbbing against his zipper. He groaned, shifting against the leather bucket seat to find a more comfortable position.

He wanted Kate. Not just her pussy, either. That’s what scared him. He wanted to talk with her, look at her, share her thoughts and dreams as well as her sexy little body.

Ann Jacobs

Firestorm

35

He’d felt that way about Alice, too, and look where that got him. No way would he set himself up for more broken dreams.

They’d had eight years together. Jake had thought they were good ones. Until Alice had torn his heart out eighteen months ago.

Ironically, she’d done it while they played the happy couple at Greg’s wedding celebration. After the rehearsal dinner, when he’d tried to take her in his arms, Alice had shattered the last of his youthful illusions.

Her words were stamped indelibly in his memory. “I'm done with this farce of a marriage. I'm leaving in the morning. I filed for divorce last week. If you hadn't come back early for Greg's wedding, I'd have been gone when you got back to Houston.”

Jake slammed his fist into the padded dash.

He’d made a fool of himself that night, begging her to stay for the sake of the unborn baby she’d told him about just three weeks earlier before he took off to solve some problem in a Venezuelan oil field.

His child. The baby who would never have known anything but love from him, never have felt pressure to become something he wasn't. The baby Jake had wanted since early in their marriage.

The baby Alice had tossed away like an unwanted toy when she decided he was no longer the hero she’d fallen in love with eight years earlier when he’d been tossing touchdown passes for the Aggies.

Part of Jake had died when she told him about the abortion, and not just the son or daughter Alice had tossed out like garbage. She’d destroyed the part of him that believed, that loved, that trusted in the goodness of his fellow man.

He gripped the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white. “Goddamn it, I loved her.”

Now he didn't even hate her anymore. But it would be a cold day in hell before he’d give another woman his trust.

He certainly couldn’t trust Kate, whose soft drawl and rural lifestyle reminded him of Alice when they’d first met.

Jake expected to marry again one day. Hell, he was an only son, and his old man was desperate for a grandson to carry on the family name.

But his next marriage wouldn’t be for love. The wall he’d built around his wounded heart would keep him safe. He’d find a woman and give her his name and his children, but never his heart.

She’d have to accept his work, share his interest in sports and rugged outdoor pursuits. Most of all she couldn’t demand more of him than he had to give.

Ann Jacobs

Firestorm

36

“Damn it to hell.” Jake glanced at the rolling meadows on either side of the two-lane blacktop road. “Why do I keep thinking Kate’s different from Alice?”

When his only answer was the powerful roar of the Porsche's engine, he let out a stream of vicious curses. Then, powerless to prevent his mind from wandering, he mulled over what he knew of Kate Black.

He couldn’t figure exactly what made him want her. Unlike his bitch of a former wife, she wasn’t knockout gorgeous. While he had no trouble imagining how her petite body would mate up with his when they got horizontal, and while just thinking about her kept him hard as a horny teenager, Kate’s wasn't the sexiest body he’d ever seen. Or had, for that matter.

Maybe it was her eyes, soft blue-green, slightly tilted cat eyes on a delicate, fine-featured face. Or that curly mop of dark brown hair that tempted him to reach out and fondle it, to bury his face in its softness?

Might Kate make him a decent wife?

She’d sure as hell please him in bed. Just rubbing himself against the convex plane of her slender belly the other night had gotten him hard enough to burst.

Damn it, Jake. You've got more sense than to let your cock do your thinking. You can find hundreds of women who look pretty and will give you a good ride. Those are the least important qualities you're looking for in a woman.

His cock obviously disagreed. It ached and throbbed so painfully that he unzipped his jeans to ease the pressure.

Kate would be a good mother, he imagined. She’d told him enthusiastically about the children she’d taught before coming home to care for her dying father. That was important. He didn’t want his kids having a mom who would leave their upbringing to maids and nannies. And he damn sure didn’t want another woman who would callously destroy his baby.

Unlike Alice, who hated that she’d grown up poor and had never let him forget it, Kate didn’t seem particularly greedy. In any case, Jake had enough wealth to gratify any but the most avaricious of women.

He sensed she’d be satisfied with home and hearth—and bringing up a family.

Unfortunately homebodies had a nasty habit of wanting their men home every night.

Jake didn’t imagine Kate would like him running off, drilling wells all over the world, any more than Alice had.

When his car phone beeped, Jake pushed a button to activate it, still caught up with thoughts of Kate.

Ann Jacobs

Firestorm

37

Chapter Four

“Jake here.”

“This is Skip. Where are you?”

Jake looked out the window at scenery he couldn't place, then at the trip odometer.

“About five miles out of Groveland.”

“Step on it, then. We've got a helluva fire on our hands.”

Shit!
“The well?”

“The woods. Sparks must’ve got away from us when we were putting out a fire in that old barn behind Ms. Black’s house.” Skip sounded frantic.

Jake pressed the accelerator to the floor, then leveled the speed off at ninety miles an hour. “You got help?”

“County volunteer fire department’s here with a fifty-year-old pumper truck. Forest service has helicopters on the way to spray the trees.”

“Good. Get one of the wild well control outfits to stand by in case we need them.

And put your people to work keeping that fire away from the well.”

“Already done. The PIs are out, trying to catch the son-of-a-bitch Kate saw running away from her barn early this morning. Anything else?”

“No. Damn it, yes. Did you get Kate out of there?”

“We tried. Haven't been able to find her,” Skip said, his voice almost drowned out by the sound of a helicopter that was flying low over Jake's car.

“Go look for her.”

Jake shut off the phone and floored the accelerator again. He clutched the wheel and fought the bumpy road in spite of the tight, constricting fear that clutched at his chest.

His fury rose, along with terror. Six fucking expensive armed security guards on site, and they hadn't managed to nab the saboteur.

Somebody had to have seen their arsonist. Why in hell couldn't one of the lazy private cops have managed to snare this bastard pyromaniac the minute he’d set foot on Kate’s property?

He watched the speedometer edge up over a hundred-twenty.

The two minutes it took to reach the well site seemed like two days in hell.

Ominous black smoke thickened, scorching his eyes. Burning tree limbs crackled all around him as he approached the turnoff.

Ann Jacobs

Firestorm

38

Jake applied the brakes and downshifted as he executed the sharp curve into Kate's driveway. Dust swirled from where the tires grappled with the packed clay road.

Screeching to a halt, he saw the ruin of the barn that stood halfway between Kate's house and Black-GreenTex Number One. Old and rickety to begin with, the structure was now nothing but a mass of smoldering embers being tended by two of Skip’s drillers.

A forest service chopper circled overhead, spraying water over the burning woods that ringed the well.

When Jake saw movement from the corner of one eye, he looked closer. A brute of a man charged up a narrow path toward the driveway. Smoke billowed, and fresh flames crackled in his wake.

The red gas can the bastard clutched in one meaty fist gave him away. Bracing himself, Jake waited for his chance.

When the man was barely six feet away, Jake lunged. He caught the guy in the belly with his left shoulder, knocking him to the ground. Jake came down on top of him, slammed a fist into his beefy face and a knee into his groin.

But that didn't take him out.

The arsonist connected with several bruising blows to Jake's ribs and jaw before Jake laid him out cold with a vicious chop to the neck.

His energy depleted, Jake sank back onto the rain-starved grass along the pathway and yelled for help.

Then he heard a faint moaning sound.

He forced himself to sit up.

There it was again, an almost human plea coming from the burning woods.

Leaving his unconscious prisoner for the security men who were headed his way, Jake staggered to his feet and limped toward that pathetic sound.

Kate.

The bastard had hit her and left her to burn.

He uttered a vile oath at the pain that radiated from his gimpy knee when he tried to run. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to keep going, then sank down beside her and began to check for obvious injuries.

She couldn’t die. Didn’t deserve to die.

Fuck! He couldn’t lose her.

The flames licked at the dry underbrush. Close. Too close.

Crackling.

Ann Jacobs

Firestorm

39

Coming closer now.

He beat at the tiny flames with his hands, tried to ignore the searing pain.

The wind fanned the fire and spread it, in spite of the steady stream of flame retardant that dripped on them through limbs of the trees.

They had to get out of here.

Now.

Snatching Kate up in his arms, Jake stood and staggered out of the woods.

“You!” he yelled through parched lips at the guards who had left their unconscious prisoner and come to lend a hand. “I'll take care of her. Get that bastard to the trailer.

Call the sheriff. For God's sake, don't let him get away!”

Inside Kate’s house, he collapsed on a worn couch, cradling Kate in his arms.