Kade: Santanas Cuervo MC (6 page)

“I don’t know.”

“I do. Not since your first year, when you were still working on your PhD. You sunk one
dry hole.
One
.
Hell, even your Dad isn’t that good, and he’s
damn
good. And when you get the bugs worked out of your software…” Greg shook his head. “I’ve been doing this for more than thirty years. I was one of the first people Tom hired when he founded the company, and I can tell you, this will be the biggest thing to come along since the Roller Cone bit.”

Duck and Big Dick looked at each other. “That’s big?” Duck asked.

Greg chuckled. “Considering they have been using that design for more than a hundred years, yeah, that’s big.”

Before anyone could say anything else, the four heard the loud
tink
of something hitting metal, then a moment later, the crack of a rifle. Big Dick was the first to react, shoving Winter to the ground and falling beside her. There was a puff of dust about six feet away, then another crack of gunfire.

“Under here!” Big Dick cried, dragging Winter until she got her wits about her and scrambled under the thumper where Big Dick shoved her between the massive front tires. Duck joined them a moment later, the men on either side of her with their weapons out as the rest of the thumper crews scrambled for cover.

“See anybody?” Duck asked as they peered around the tires.

“No. I didn’t see anyone before either. Where ever they are, they’re way the hell off because I didn’t even see a truck.”

Everyone stayed down a moment. “Stay here,” Big Dick said, motioning to her with a hand before he crept out from behind the tire, then stood on the steps to the cab and looked in the direction of the shot.

“See anything?” Duck called from under the truck.

“Just a dust cloud from someone leaving in a hell of a hurry.”

Duck, Winter, and the rest of the thumper crew crawled out from under and behind the trucks. “What the hell was that all about?” Greg asked.

Duck started for Winter’s Jeep. “Don’t know, but I’m going to go take a look. Winter, I’m going to use your Jeep.”

She nodded but didn’t say anything.

“You think it was that crazy old bastard again?” Greg asked, as Duck drove in the general direction of the shot.

“Why would it be? We’re not on his land anymore.”

“Where did the bullet hit?” Big Dick asked, looking at the truck, trying to see a hole.

Greg and the rest of the crew looked the truck over. “This is probably it,” one of the men said, pointing at a slight dent in the front wheel.

Big Dick looked at the dent, then eyeballed where the sound of the shot came from in relation to where everyone was standing. “It looks like they were shooting at you, Winter. Weren’t you standing about here?” he asked as he pointed at a spot on the ground.

“Yeah, I guess,” she nodded, watching her Jeep bumble around out in the brush.

“As soon as Duck gets back, we need to get you out of here.”

“Why? You said yourself you saw the dust cloud as they left.”

“That may have not been them.”

“They’re not shooting anymore and, if they’re out there, Duck will probably flush them out, right? Since I’m here, I want to stay and see what Steve has to say about replacing the hose.”

Big Dick thought a moment then nodded his head. “Okay, so long as Duck doesn’t find anything.”

Winter nodded in agreement. “I’m not too keen on being shot at again, so anything you want me to do, Big Dick, I’m all in.”

Big Dick chuckled as he shielded his eyes, watching Winter’s bright yellow Jeep.

Fifteen minutes later, Duck returned.

“What did you find?” Big Dick asked.

“Just some tracks. I don’t know if they were our guy or not, but where they stopped, I found these.” He held up two shell casings.

Greg took one. “30.06?”

“That’s what it looks like to me,” Big Dick said, taking the other. “How the hell did they get in so close?”

“They weren’t close. They were at least five hundred yards away. I could see the thumpers, but I couldn’t see you at all. It’s probably why they missed.”

“Why didn’t we see their dust?” Big Dick asked, handing Duck the shell casing.

“Moving slow, I guess. I don’t know. I guess they didn’t think they could get in any closer without being spotted.”

“This makes no sense,” Big Dick growled, then nudged Duck and nodded at a dust cloud in the distance. “Winter, get on the other side of the thumper,” he said as he pulled his weapon again and moved to crouch behind the rear wheel of the first truck.

“Everyone, get on the other side of the trucks,” Duck said as he pulled his own weapon and crouched behind the front tire.

They stayed in position, weapons at the ready as the snorting and growling service truck fought its way toward the thumpers then stopped. A man stepped out then froze when he saw Duck and Big Dick, their weapons out and pointed at him.

“What’s going on here? Who are you?” he demanded.

Greg stepped around the front of the thumper. “It’s Steve,” he said to Duck then turned his attention back to the service man. “You just missed the excitement. Somebody was shooting at us.”

“Who are they?” Steve asked, nodding at Big Dick and Duck as they holstered their weapons.

“That’s Pete and Everly. They’re here to protect Winter.”

“From who?”

“Don’t know. But after what just happened, I think it’s a good idea.”

“Which one?” Steve asked.

“Number three.”

Steve shook his head as he walked toward the third truck. “I don’t know what this world is coming to. We’re out here busting out ass so they can put gas in their cars, and they’re shooting at us.”

“What do you think, Steve? How long to fix?” Winter asked, forcing herself to focus.

Steve crouched under the truck and tugged on the hoses. “Not long. I’ll have to figure out which one is split then make up the hose, so maybe an hour. Longer if someone starts shooting at us again.”

Winter nodded. “Thanks, Steve, for getting this done so quickly.”

Steven crawled out from under the truck. “No problem.”

***

“So it was two shots?” Kade asked as he rolled one of the shell casings between his thumb and pointer finger.

“Yeah,” Duck said. “Two shots then they ran like hell.”

“I don’t get this,” Kade said, sitting the shell on the table. “Something doesn’t feel right; does it to you guys? If it were the cartel, wouldn’t they come in with an army and automatic weapons? If they did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation now. Why are they fucking around?”

Big Dick shook his head. “No. Not to me either. We know how they operate, and this ain’t it.”

Winter listened to the four men as they talked. They were obviously confused and nervous, and that made
her
nervous.

“We’re sure it isn’t the guy that shot at you before?” Bickers asked.

She shrugged. “I called the Sheriff and they sent a car out. The guy swears it wasn’t him. The Sheriff said he didn’t have a 30.06 and his truck was stone cold.”

“I think this did point out a weakness, though. We need better communications. It might not have mattered, but being stuck out there and not being able to call for help, that’s not good. Gail said we could make use of the Kelly Oil resources, so I think in the morning I’ll ride into Houston and pick up a few of those handy-dandy satellite phones like Winter’s got. At least then you can reach someone if you need to.”

“Good idea,” Bickers said. “Get two. One for the person with Winter and one for the person out in the hide. We can use them as the walkies, as well, so we only have one thing to keep up with and more than one person can yell for help.”

The men nodded in agreement. “Good job today,” Kade said, then grinned at Winter. “Still think we’re a waste of time and money?”

Winter smiled and shook her head. “No. I’m a believer now. I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

“Nope,” Kade said with a grin.

As Big Dick and Duck stepped out of the RV, Kade held his fist up in front of him, Bickers doing the same. They pumped their fists three times before Bickers held his hand out flat for paper, Kade throwing out two fingers for scissors.

“Shit! I don’t even know why I do this. You win every damn time,” Bickers muttered as he rose to take the first shift in the field. They rotated every two hours during the day, but pulled six in the evening when it was cooler, the person inside the RV grabbing a little shuteye before they switched places so the other man could sleep.

Winter grinned. She’d noticed that Ro Sham Bo was something Bickers and Kade did a lot. It was clearly a game with them, but Bickers was right, Kade nearly always won. Bickers picked up the cooler with a couple of sandwiches and drinks, and stomped out of the RV.

Kade chuckled as he watched him go. “Did you get what I asked you?”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to cook for me.”

“You cook for the guys most nights. I figure you can have someone cook for you once in a while. Besides, you said you like enchiladas, but you haven’t had enchiladas until you’ve had
my
enchiladas.”

“So you said.”

He pottered in the small kitchen as she sat nearby and watched him work. He used no recipe and few measuring utensils, moving with speed and efficiency as he chopped onion, browned the ground beef, and prepared the sauce. He was obviously no stranger to the kitchen.

“So tell me a little about Kelly Oil,” he said as he pushed the beef around to make sure it was all browned.

“Not much to tell,” she replied. “Dad was a geologist for Mobile Oil, then decided to try his hand on his own. That was in 1980. He bought a drilling rig from a failed wildcatter, sunk a well where nobody else thought there was oil, made good, and here we are. We’re still a small fish, but we’re growing.”

“And if this new software of yours works out the way you hope, you’ll be set, right?”

Winter bobbed her head. “It will certainly reduce our costs, that’s for sure. We may eventually lease the software to other companies, but that’s a lot farther down the line. Right now I want to keep it in house for as long as possible to give us an unfair advantage. We’re so small and we’re very integrated. We own our own thumpers, rigs and trucks. It makes us nimble because we don’t have to get on somebody else’s schedule and it keeps our costs down. The sounding crew doesn’t have to make money, for example. The truckers don’t have to make money. So long as Kelly Oil overall is making money, we all make money. Hopefully this software will further reduce our costs so we can still make money even when the price of oil is in the crapper, like it is now.”

“Sounds like you have it all figured out. How old’s your dad?”

“Sixty-two in December. He’s not doing so good. He’s had a couple of heart attacks already and I figure he’s going to retire in a couple more years.”

“Then who will take over the company? Gail?”

“Probably me. Dad owns sixty percent of the company stock. Aunt Gail owns twenty percent, and the rest is spread out among the employees.”

He chuckled. “With sixty percent, I guess what he says goes.”