A Soul Redeemed

by Dakota Black

  “We have to take a break, but we’ll be back for our final set in twenty minutes.” The guitar player wasted no time sliding his guitar onto a stand and bounding off the stage, headed right for Lori.

  Veronica backed away, leaving the two alone, and headed for their table. As she sipped on her drink, she went over her mental list of to do’s. Almost everything she owned remained in a storage unit, except for her car. What little was left anyway. She shook her head, the realization that she’d never taken root before and at this rate, she wasn’t certain when she ever would. The concept of a husband and kids? Never.

  Yawning, she glanced at her watch. She’d be catching a plane to Houston, then a helicopter ride to the rig. She had two days to get everything together. No, she had two days to dodge her parents, her mother had already called three times. She could imagine the call now, excuses, apologies and begging, the usual. Unfortunately, her mother had gotten very good at making excuses for her father over the years. She often wondered why her mother stayed with the pompous ass. Money? Maybe. Clout? Her mother couldn’t care less. Whatever the reason, the long and arduous relationship had changed her mother into a shell of a woman, something she refused to accept in her life or for her friends.

  Another reason she refused to allow Lori to go back to Jack. She snickered and took a huge gulp, envisioning all the wretched things she could do to the man. Skewering came to mind. As she was mulling over methods of torture, she heard her phone. This wouldn’t be a call from her mother. Past her bedtime.

  She grabbed her purse, yanking out her cellphone and had no idea who could be calling. “Veronica Easton.”

  “Veronica, Camden Dane. I’m very sorry to bother you so late at night, but we need your help.”

  There was a heightened level of angst in the man’s voice. “What’s wrong?”

  “There’s been an explosion on the rig you’ve been assigned to and almost no medical personnel. I don’t know the full extent of the injuries but there are at least eighteen men who’ve been hurt. Sick bay is overwhelmed. Is there a possibility that you can speed up your departure, arriving tomorrow?”

  “I suppose I can. I just need to get to Houston. I could drive.”

  “Nonsense. We’ll send the company plane. Give me the closest airfield and I’ll call you back with the arrival time. Of course, a helicopter will be waiting at the Houston airport and you’ll be taken to the rig immediately.”

  A slight echo sounded in Veronica’s ears. She was really doing this. No turning back now. “I’ll be ready.”

  “Excellent. Thank you very much. You have no idea how much your expertise will be appreciated. We’ll talk soon.”

  When the call was ended, she stared at the blank screen before shooting a look at the dance floor. Where was Lori? She snagged the waitress, paid the tab and grabbed everything from the table. Time to locate Lori and get moving.

  After searching the bar, she headed for the ladies’ room, cognizant that there was no sign of the sexy musician. A sinking feeling swept into her gut. She burst into the restroom and other than two very drunk girls attempting to re-apply lipstick, there was no sign of Lori. She stood in the hallway for a few seconds, watching the comings and goings of rowdy customers. Then she had a hunch.

  Throwing back her shoulders, she walked straight into the men’s room. The small space was full and while most of the men undressed her with their eyes, they said nothing. There were two stalls in use. “Lori?” Peering under one, she exhaled with relief.

  “Lookin’ for something special, sugar?”

  He was right behind her, his breath skipping across the back of her neck. “Not in a shithole like this.” The handicap stall was the other ‘in use’ facility. She tapped on the door as the man behind her mumbled under his breath. Being called a bitch was nothing new. “Lori.”

  The sounds coming from behind the metal door were muffled, but ones she recognized, even after her forced celibacy. When her friend didn’t answer, she jiggled the handle. Shocked when the door swung open a few inches, she blinked as the vision of Lori on her knees, a thick cock in her mouth registered, fueling the very bad girl side of her.

  Her thoughts shifted, pulling her into a fevered state of desire. Whether from the alcohol or the length of time since she’d been with a lover, she wanted to let go, become carefree. Fuck a man. The concept was riveting. Her imagination took over and for a few seconds, she was the woman on the floor, a throbbing cock in her mouth, a man’s hand wrapped around her neck. He was issuing commands, demanding she take every inch, sucking his dick dry. Shivering, she pushed a strand of stray hair out of her eyes and grunted.

  “Come on, baby. I have a huge cock.”

  The husky voice was just behind her. Veronica gave a nervous laugh and almost agreed. Some level of rationality took over and she shook her head. Dear God, she craved a hard fuck. “No. No!”

  Lori looked up, her eyes twinkling. “We’re almost finished. Would you like to join us?” Winking, she licked a spot of cum off her lower lip.

  At least her worries regarding Lori had been abated.

  “Get them out of there!” Nash raced toward the edge of the rig, sliding across the slick surface. Leaning over the metal lip, he heard the rushing sound of the ocean waves as they slapped against the side. He hung onto the metal bar as he stretched out, trying desperately to reach the fallen roughneck. “Hold on! Grab my arm!”

  Beacons of light flashed back and forth across the entire area as members of the crew watched from above.

  Panting, the crewman slapped his hand against the side of the rig, trying desperately to hang on. “I can’t.”

  “You damn well can. Reach!”

  “I have you,” Tank dropped to his knees, grabbing Nash by the belt.

  Nash pushed out until he was able to touch the roughneck’s fingers. “Grab my wrist.”

  Grunting, the crewman breathed out then slapped his foot against the metal pole, hoisting himself up a few inches.

  Nash managed to slap his hand around the worker’s arm. “Pull me back!”

  Tank tugged, using his upper body strength as he planted his foot on the metal railing.

  Sweaty and his arms slickened by spewing oil, he dug his fingers into the man’s arm and pushed hard against the decking. Inch by inch they worked together, and the moment the roughneck’s head was above the deck, several hands reached out, pulling them both to safety.

  “Jesus. Fucking. Christ. What the hell was that shit!” Tank spat as he leaned against the railing, his chest heaving.

  Rolling over, Nash stared up at the malevolent looking sky, seething given what he’d seen. “The shit wasn’t working right.”

  “How the hell do you know? You’ve been here all of four hours,” Tank snarled.

  He resisted getting into a feud. This wasn’t the time or the place. “How many injured?”

  “At least a dozen,” another crewman called out. “They’ve been taken to the medical unit.”

  The medical unit with one working employee. Fan-fucking-tastic. He crawled to his feet and checked on the crewman. “You all right?”

  “Yeah, thanks a lot,” the man said as he raised his arm for a handshake.

  Nash obliged then walked straight for Tank. “I want a full report ASAP. Get with the engineers and lay this one out for me. My belief is that we have faulty equipment. If not, then we have much bigger problems.” Huffing, he walked away then stopped cold.

  “I didn’t like Franklin pussy face Parker, but he knew the rig and knew what his men could do. You have no clue. I suggest you keep your mouth shut until you do.”

  Turning, he closed the distance until he could see the flecks of colors in Tank’s eyes, even in the shadowed light. “If you ever talk to me that way again, you’ll be fired on the spot. Are we clear, Mr. Williams?” While he’d kept his voice low, enough of the men had heard their scrapple.

  Tank’s eyes narrowed, the corner of his mouth turned up slightly. “Whatever you say, M
r. Superintendent. Just be careful. We’re a tight group.”

  Nash watched the man walk away and shook his head. They shared the same damning level of arrogance. On a rig like this? Any level of emotion could lead to disaster.

  One hour later and Nash was fully abreast of the conditions. Thank God, they’d contained the oil. A leak at this point would shut down the rig, potentially indefinitely. That wouldn’t bode well for Rush Enterprises in any manner. There were too many missing pieces to the puzzle and he was determined to find the source. Furious with the basic report, he slammed his hand against a wall leading to the cabins below. The metal sound reverberated, matching his ragged breathing. He was beyond pissed. Drenched in oil and dirt, he paced the deck, glaring at the exhausted men. The explosion had nearly taken out the entire rig. There were several injuries, including one considered life threatening. The sick bay was overwhelmed, the single nurse overworked and inexperienced for the kinds of burns suffered. What the hell was he supposed to do now? He leaned against the metal enclosure, wiping his face with a rag.

  “That shit wasn’t supposed to happen.” The man confronted Nash, as if the situation had somehow been Nash’s fault.

  He knew of the engineer’s reputation, as well as the man’s hot temper. Then again, everyone on the rig was ready to blow. Steven Michaels commanded a team of engineers, every one of them experienced and their expertise was responsible for keeping this kind of shit from happening. “Then why did it?”

  Steven exhaled, inching closer. “From what I can tell, the equipment hasn’t been kept in the best working order for some time now.”

  “Isn’t that the motorman’s job?” Nash casually asked.

  “Well, yeah, but you don’t understand what we’ve had to deal with for almost a year. The budget was cut, several employees laid off and—”

  “And a rig superintendent who didn’t mind cutting corners,” Nash interrupted, finishing the engineer’s statement.

  “You didn’t hear that from me.” Steven held up his arms.

  “I sure as shit need to hear that from someone who has a clear understanding of what has and hasn’t occurred on this rig. While I may be new here, I’ve been around this block for about as long as you’ve been alive, so I’m well versed in exactly what engineers are required to do. I want a full status report of every component by nine am sharp. Do I make myself clear?” He wasn’t here to win any friends. Period. Even though he could see a look of raw anger on Steven’s expression, he could see something else in the man’s eyes. Fear. Just what were they all so afraid of?

  “Yes, sir. At your command, sir.” Giving Nash a haughty salute, he walked off.

  Nash closed his eyes. He’d seen the look of terror on several of the men’s expressions and their anxiety had only partially to do with the explosion. There was more than just faulty equipment to deal with. His gut was screaming. Whatever the scenario, lives were being placed in danger. This was going to be a long ass six months.

  “I hate to bother you, but the brass wants you on the phone,” Toby said quietly as he flanked Nash’s side.

  “Let me guess, you called them?” Nash tilted his head.

  “Protocol.”

  “Right. Tell them I’ll call back in ten minutes.”

  “Sure thing. Oh, and a new doctor is on the way. Mr. Dane mentioned it on his call. By the way, your cabin is a deck below. You’ll find it. Trust me.” Toby nodded before walking off.

  A doctor. Well, they sure as shit needed one. Thank God, for small favors. After grabbing his bag out of the communications room, he stood on the top deck, surveying the aftermath. They’d been damn lucky the entire rig hadn’t blown.

  Disgusted, he stormed down the flights of stairs, heading for his cabin. He found the right berth easily enough. The brass plate indicator suggested superiority. Hissing, he turned the knob, moving inside. He was used to a small apartment, his meager belongings secured in one closet. The space in front of him was ostentatious given the circumstances. The bed was at least a queen size, the room complete with a desk and chair as well as a couch and coffee table. Even the lighting seemed far removed from his surroundings.

  Dropping his bag, he yanked out another shirt and found the bathroom easily enough. The shower was large enough for two, the other amenities certainly not what he’d expected. After washing off the remnants of oil, he changed shirts and headed back to the communication’s room. The two men inside remained tense.

  “I’ll get headquarters on the line,” Toby commented, picking up the radio without second guessing.

  Nash glanced at the monitors. The indicators highlighted various aspects of the ship including the oil levels within the tanks as well as the drilling percentages and even upcoming weather streams. They remained in a turbulent weather pattern, several tropical storms and hurricanes already having thwarted the rig’s drilling efforts. They didn’t need another complication.

  “Yes, sir. I have him right here,” Toby stated as he turned in Nash’s direction.

  Grabbing the radio, he curtailed his anger as he turned toward the window. “Waters.”

  “Nash, it’s Camden. I heard what happened. Can you give me an assessment of the situation?”

  He knew very little about Camden Dane except for the fact he’d taken over as CEO. The man’s reputation was stellar, although from what he’d been able to decipher, the new leader was better suited for a board room and not deep in the trenches. “The emergency is contained at this point.”

  “And the cause?” Camden asked.

  “Undetermined as of yet. There were cleaning supplies on the deck surface.” Nash could tell Toby was gleaning every word.

  “You think chemicals started the fire?”

  “As I said, undetermined. I’m going to do a full assessment later today.” He checked his watch. No wonder he was bone tired. It was after two in the morning.

  Camden exhaled, a slight hesitation in his voice. “Understood. As I mentioned, this particular rig is damn important to the company. The sooner you find out the reasons for the incidents, the sooner you can start producing oil.”

  Nash could read between the lines. Even the brass had doubts the lack of production was because of natural causes. “I should know more within twenty-four hours. We have several men down, one in need of transport off the rig.”

  “Already in production. We have a doctor coming your way. She’ll be staying for the long haul. I emailed you her file. Dr. Veronica Easton. She’s damn good at what she does and we’re lucky to have her.”

  He held his breath as the information sunk in.

  “Nash, you with me?”

  “Oh, I’m here.”

  “Good. I don’t need to tell you that we’re up against a deadline. We need the rig producing for the start of the new quarter and damn, I’d like to see an upswing in production. Get the doctor to work immediately. We need those men healthy because I don’t have any additional roughnecks to take their positions. The transport will be taking the most severely injured off the rig. Please have them ready by five am.”

  He shook his head, a snarl curling his top lip. “Will do, sir. You’ll have a full report within twenty-four hours.” Everything remained about the bottom line.

  “Excellent. And Nash, you can call me Camden.”

  “Whatever you say, Mr. Dane.” Ending the call, Nash wrapped his hand around the receiver, the force of his muscles forcing a single cracking sound. A woman. Fantastic. Shoving the radio into Toby’s hand, he took long strides toward the door. “I’ll be in my cabin.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  By the time he reached his cabin, Nash was livid. The last thing he needed was an opinionated doctor on the ship, and female caretakers were all the same. He’d had just enough experience with them to have formulated his dislike. Perhaps even distrust. The damn rig was overrun with enough testosterone that an introduction of yet another new crew member, and female, wouldn’t bode well for all of them.

  He stripped off hi
s clothes and turned on the water to the shower, his thoughts drifting to Lola. She was the single female who’d been able to bring a smile to his face in a hell of a long time. Dragging his aching body under the showerhead, he palmed the smooth silicone and arched his back. The heated water cascaded over his head and shoulders, pooling into the small drain. Remnants of oil, soot and other grime flowed down, the stench enough to make him cough.

  There wasn’t enough soap in the world to make him feel clean. He remained where he was, concentrating on the dirty water, breathing in and out in a controlled manner. Yeah, he’d been forced to learn how to dictate every mannerism, every damning emotion during his years on this earth. Nothing could control his rage, but he’d practiced self-restraint. He tipped his head back, gurgling a mouth full of water and spitting. He needed to scrub every inch of skin, rid himself of the basic stink.

  Too bad the cause had nothing to do with this particular gig. He remained a prisoner of his own damning soul.

  “Pretty boy on the block. Come here, pussy.”

  The words were as expected, the tone dominating. Nash ignored the command, walking past the group of thugs. There would be no fight today. At least as long as he was alive.

  “I said, get your ass over here, boy toy.”

  He heard laughter, chiding sounds and whistling noises, every scumbag attempting to rile him. He had a destination and the worthless pricks were not going to stop him.

  “Hey. You!”

  The hard kick to the back of his legs forced Nash off balance. He gritted his teeth and recovered before hitting the ground. Keeping his stance wide, he tilted his head, narrowing his eyes as the leader sashayed back and forth. A single growl pushing up from his throat.

  “What do we have here?” the leader asked as he opened his arms and smiled. “A fucking idiot.”

  The laughter was swift, the faces twisted in darkness. The group of ten wanted nothing more than to rip him apart. Nash continued on, refusing to succumb.

  Wham!

  The rock hit Nash on the side of the head. A flash of anguish permeated his system as stars floated in front of his eyes. He hunched over from the pain, his rage building.