A Soul Redeemed

by Dakota Black

  “If the man or men responsible for what the hell is going on figured out that someone was snooping in on their files, they will stop at nothing to shut down the loose end. You’re coming with me. Now, you know what we’re dealing with.”

  “We don’t know anything for certain. Besides, they’d have to have the time to hunt down every IP address on this ship. Do you really think that’s going to happen?”

  “I refuse to take the chance.”

  Wha! Wha! Wha!

  “What the hell?” Veronica hissed.

  “The ship’s alarm. My guess is the storm is coming in faster than anticipated.” Nash shook his head.

  “Storm?”

  “There’s a hurricane on the way, sweetheart. That means we could be locked down until it passes.” He could see such strength in her eyes, her demeanor. He walked closer. “Let me find out what’s going on. Stay here and lock the door. Don’t open to anyone but me. I have to make certain everything is battened down. We’ll ride out the storm.”

  “You don’t look very convincing,” she whispered.

  The only thing he was certain of was that any evidence remaining on the ship could easily be ‘destroyed’ during the middle of a horrific storm, including computers and every scrap of data. The perpetrator would undoubtedly use the situation to his advantage. “Lock the door behind me. I won’t be that long.”

  “Whatever is going on, you have to find Roger. If you do, send him here. Okay? That kid has been through so much. At least I can keep an eye on him. I am a doctor.”

  “All right, but don’t leave this room. Maybe he’ll be able to tell you more.” As the alarm continued to sound off, he knew he had to go. “I’ll be back.”

  “Wait.” She walked closer until she was only inches away. “I need to ask you a question.”

  Nash looked up and down her face before nodding, his eyes glinting a split second of concern. “Okay.”

  “Why were you in prison?” She took a step back, her face suddenly ashen. “Why? What did you do?”

  He took a purposeful step back, his skin paling. She’d gone through his record? How? Why? “That was my past. You had no right.”

  “I was warned. A note under the door.” She held her ground, her eyes burning into his. “Were they just trying to scare me into staying away from you?” When he hesitated, she inched even closer. “Nash, I need to know the truth. I’m not judging you.”

  He exhaled, clenching his fists. He was going to find the fucker who said anything. They wanted her unsure, unable to trust him. “I was in prison and that’s the very reason you need to stay away from me. I’m dangerous.”

  “I don’t care what you did. I only care about the kind of person you are today, and I want to get to know you, everything you feel comfortable telling me.”

  He looked away, his heart thumping hard in his chest. This wasn’t the way she was supposed to find out. Would he have told her the truth? “You don’t want to get to know the man inside. Trust me, sweetheart. I’m not who you think I am.” He turned toward the door.

  “Then who are you if not a man who figured out about the woman buried so deeply inside that I pushed her into an ugly box, fearful to let anyone in. You found a way. You knew what my body craved, my heart. That man is the one I’m falling in love with.”

  Love? He blinked as every piece of his mind went to the ugly place, the almost three years of torture, time spent in prison for a deed he hadn’t planned, one he’d take back given the chance.

  “Please talk to me. Tell me what happened. Allow that guard of yours to fall.”

  What could he tell her? The truth was far too painful, but she should know what thing she thought she loved. She needed to understand why he could never be with her. “I was married. Once. I was a different man. I believed in love. She betrayed me.”

  “How?”

  Emotions he fought so hard to keep away came roaring back, filtering into every part of his mind, his blackened soul. He tipped his head until he could see her pained face. “I loved her with all my heart. I would have died for that women. I thought we were perfect. On one wretched afternoon, I found out we weren’t.”

  She inched closer, but allowed him space, yet her face refused to take in what he was saying. “Nash. I’m so sorry.”

  “I came home early to surprise her. It was our goddamn anniversary. Three years.”

  This time, she gripped his arm, her fingers digging into his skin. She remained silent, yet ragged breaths pushed past her lips.

  “I found her in bed with another man.”

  “Oh God!”

  He sniffed back the tears, laughing bitterly. “I went nuts. Insane. There was a fight. He didn’t want to leave. We struggled and he died. He died by my hands.” He saw the shock and horror in her eyes. There was no way she couldn’t judge him. There was no way she could be with him. “I killed him and paid for my crimes. I lost my wife, my house, my job, my freedom and my humanity in one damning night. Now, you understand.”

  “Nash, I…” Her words trailed off.

  He swallowed hard, longing to move closer, to take her into his arms. He wanted nothing more than to feel the same amazing sense of adoration, even love, but he was incapable.

  So, he didn’t. Instead, he did exactly as he’d promised he would do if he ever got close to anyone again.

  He walked out the door.

  When he left her cabin, he waited to hear the sound of the door clicking, the lock engaging, and stood glaring at the lights flashing in the hallway. He could hear a single moan, a soft and agonizing sobbing sound and he pounded his fist into the air. Why couldn’t he be a better man? Why wasn’t he able to console her, explain? Because there was no logical explanation for beating a man to death. None. He’d tried to push aside the reason, the ugliness, but even time hadn’t healed the kind of wound inflicted by his own two hands. The judge had called him a killer, someone who should be locked away for eternity.

  Yeah, he should have. He sniffed and wiped his mouth, struggling with his emotions. This would have to wait, but she deserved at least some kind of explanation. Anything. No, she deserved much better than the likes of him. Maybe she’d stay away and if she did, perhaps she would be safe. He laughed as the tears streamed down his face. This was the first time he’d allowed himself to go back to the day, the beautiful yet wretched Thursday. Why now? Why did he have to remember?

  As he slammed his hand against the wall, he knew the answer. He’d fallen hard for the girl with the red hair and twinkling eyes and he could never touch her again.

  His thoughts shifted as he walked down the hallway. Why had someone taken the time to find out about his past? To keep him in line? At this point, there was no way of telling. Then again, he was no detective. There was work to be done. They were on a floating island, one with dangers at every corner.

  He stood topside, studying the turbulent sky. In the matter of two hours, everything about the weather pattern seemed to have changed. That meant the track had shifted. He walked closer to the edge, peering down at the water as a spray of salt kicked up, washing over him. The storm surge was already up by at least five feet, only to get worse with each hour. They couldn’t be in a worse situation. “Damn it.” At minimum, he’d keep the crew safe. He’d keep her safe.

  He trotted up the stairs, racing to the communications room. “What the hell?”

  Toby turned, beads of sweat trickling down both sides of his face. “The hurricane. The last reports had this bitch turning, going south. Not any longer. She’s headed straight for us and she’s already at a category five. With warm waters and nothing standing in her way, this storm will be the most disastrous the gulf has ever seen.”

  Nash stormed toward the set of computers, glaring at the computer screen. “How long?”

  “Twelve hours, maybe fifteen. The only saving grace is that it’s fast moving, but we’re still set to endure this shit for a full day.”

  “Can the rig handle it, Nash?” Walter asked,
concern in his tone of voice.

  “She’ll make it. We’ve weathered much worse.” Tank eased through the doorway, nodding toward Nash.

  “Not like this. The predicted top wind speeds could top in excess of one hundred seventy miles per hour, boys. This one is a killer.” Toby moved back and forth to different computers then to the radio. “Rig 14 calling mainland. Is anyone there?”

  Nash continued to study the screen, watching the indicators flashing across the screen.

  Crackling hisses, coming from the receiver, were the only sound.

  “Damn it. I’ve been trying to get anyone on the line for two damn hours,” Toby said then slammed the receiver back in position.

  “Keep trying. We need to lock down this rig. Tank, get your men to secure the lines. Then shut down the lines and let me know when that’s done.”

  “Do you know what will happen if we shut down those lines?” Tank snarled.

  “Do you know what will happen if we don’t? Take a look at the screen. We are running out of options. Shut down the production lines and I’ll have the engineers back off the pressure. Thirty minutes, then I’m starting the process.” When Tank didn’t move, he got in the man’s face, his anger boiling. “Is there anything you don’t understand, you fucker?”

  “I get it. Whatever happens to this rig will be on your head.” Tank stormed out of the room.

  He’d already been told that twice in two days. At this point? He wasn’t certain he cared. When Camden Dane and the rest of the corporate monkeys found out he’d actually been in prison and for the reason, he doubted he’d have a job if he could save the rig at all. He calmed his anger and turned back toward the men.

  “You two need to have a damn duel when all this shit is over,” Toby suggested.

  Walter inched closer. “I’d pay to see that.”

  Nash wiped his forehead. “Keep trying to contact corporate.”

  “Here. Take this Walkie Talkie. I’ll contact you if the storm gets any worse.” Toby handed him the device and nodded. “All of us need to get through this in one piece.”

  “Yeah.” He grabbed the receiver, clipping it on his belt and headed out of the room and for engineering. He needed to make certain the damn rig could take this level of a storm. If not, they were all in trouble.

  He found the engineer in the small office, poring over data. From where he stood in the doorway, he could see the colorful graphs created based on the information supplied by the computer. Then again, the engineers were the ones who put the numbers together. He inhaled, tamping back his anger. Pieces were starting to fall together.

  “Nash. Shit! You scared me half to death.” Steven half rose from his sitting position, almost knocking over a can of soda. As he grabbed and righted the drink, he exhaled, the sound scattered. “Sorry. Just jumpy about the damn hurricane.”

  “All of us are. I need you to depressurize the pumps.”

  Steven narrowed his eyes. “That’s not a good objective.” He sat back down, fingering the papers in front of him.

  “And if the surge takes out one of the lines, what then?”

  “I see your point.”

  “Good. The team is working on shutting down the lines. Should take them thirty minutes.”

  “Okay. The production is up. Damn shame.”

  Nash walked closer. While the man had a team of several people, who kept everything going, he knew Steven had his finger on every aspect of the oil production. “When did the lines slow down?”

  The question seemed to catch him off guard. “I don’t know. Maybe a year ago.”

  “And you added the information onto your reports? I mean the ones going to Rush Enterprises?” Was there a nervous tic on the corner of the engineer’s mouth?

  “That wasn’t my responsibility. I mean, I prepared the reports and sent them to Franklin. I don’t honestly think the man actually shared most of them. At least from what I’ve been told.”

  “Interesting. I know the engineers on the other rigs had a hand in production meetings. Were you there at any of the teleconferences or when anyone came in from corporate headquarters?”

  “A few. What are you getting at?”

  He darted a look down to the paperwork and held out his hand. “May I?”

  “Of course. I was going to send them to you later.” His hand shaking, he lifted the group of papers. “They aren’t as good as you’d hoped.”

  Nash thought about the two distinctly different reports. As he flipped through the various pages, certain aspects came to mind. They were close to what he remembered. Too close. However, the differences were significant enough in his mind. He wasn’t ready to tip his hand. “With the hurricane, we have more important business to attend to. I’ll expect the completed reports in my hands once the storm has passed.”

  “Of course. I’ll get ready to back off the pressure.” He grabbed the report from Nash’s hand and eased out of his chair, his head never turning in Nash’s direction.

  “Thank you for making certain Dr. Easton had access to her computer.” Yes, the man was very nervous.

  “What?” Steven narrowed his eyes as he lifted his head.

  “I’d asked that you make certain that she had needed access. I appreciate your help.” Nash studied his expression. Then his eyes shifted to the man’s hand. Not only was he attempting to get out of a file, his hand was shaking in the attempt.

  Steven smiled. “I had nothing to do with that. After Franklin left, only Tank had full access to the computer systems.”

  “Okay. One more thing. You know this rig. You’ve been here for years.”

  Steven stopped, his entire body tensing. “Four years and three months.”

  “Can this rig take a category five storm?”

  He let out a long exhale and gripped the edge of his desk. “I’m honestly not certain.”

  Nash nodded several times. “Then we prepare for the worst.” But first, he had a stop to make. The targets were about to be reduced.

  Almost four hours had gone by. Veronica sat on the chair, her legs under her, a glass of wine in her hand. She fingered the note as her thoughts continued to swirl around Nash. His reaction had been expected, but the look in his eyes had thrown her. He was hurt more than he was angry. It was as if she’d betrayed him with her knowledge, not just the asshole who’d left the note.

  A murderer. The connotation wasn’t to be taken lightly. He’d killed a man with his bare hands? The circumstances were horrific, but to kill him? She couldn’t make any sense of why the asshole was trying to destroy Nash other than the fact he’d gotten too close. In a few days? Her head ached, nausea pooling into her stomach. She’d told him she loved him, and he hadn’t reacted. The understanding was clear. He wasn’t able to love again, could never fully trust another human being. The angry sex, the domination was all about letting go of his emotions. But for a fleeting second, one amazing moment in time, she’d seen past his mask of steel.

  “Oh, Nash. I want so many things.” The words managed to echo in the space, jabbing her between the eyes, or an arrow through her heart. She would find a way to get through to him. She would.

  Envisioning his face, she sipped her wine and closed her eyes, trying her best to make sense of anything. He’d been almost sweet in the shower, his actions full of hunger and need, but certainly nothing he’d done gave her any concerns. The wine tasted good, soothing, but she remained antsy. Being locked in her quarters wasn’t appealing, no matter Nash’s fears.

  She got up, pacing the floor, her thoughts all over the place. Another sip, another few seconds of pacing. More wine. She could use more wine. The wind seemed to be howling, creating dinging and clanging noises. Being cooped up like a lab rat wasn’t doing her level of anxiety any good. She had no way of knowing the conditions.

  More wine poured, several additional sips and she couldn’t stand the situation any longer. She needed to at least go on deck, take a look for herself. She left the wine on the table and pulled her hair into
a pony tail. The moment she was just in front of the door, she heard tapping, a light knocking on her door.

  She stood back, a moment of fear sweeping through her, remembering what Nash had said. The tapping continued. She held her breath as she placed her hand on the door, turning the knob. “Roger. What the hell happened?”

  Blood was dripping down the side of his face as if he’d been hit on the head. He gulped for air and stumbled closer. “Can I come in? Please? I don’t know who to trust. They’re after me. They won’t leave me alone.”

  “Of course.” Ushering him inside, she darted her head out, looking up and down the hallway before closing the door. “Did anyone follow you?”

  He slumped into the chair and held his head in his hands. “I don’t think so. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know where else to go.”

  “Who hurt you? Who did this? Let me take a look.” Lifting his head, she studied the wound. While not deep, the cut was nasty enough he’d have a lump and no doubt bruising. She couldn’t detect any additional wounds, but the coughing bothered her.

  “I didn’t see their faces. I was jumped. There was a knock, I opened the door and a bag was placed over my head. The next thing I knew, I came to and…” He coughed and doubled over.

  “I need to clean that wound. I’m going to the clinic to grab a few things. You’ll be safe here.”

  “The one guy was big. That much I know. He told me I was going to die,” Roger said as he kept his head down.

  “No one is going to hurt you. Just stay put. I’ll be right back.”

  “Don’t go.”

  “Roger, I’m worried about this. You’re not completely healed. Why didn’t they let you on that helicopter?” He seemed to hesitate, as if calculating what to say to her.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. They didn’t tell me. I just couldn’t go home.”

  She took a step back and nodded. “Okay. Well, you’re not going anywhere now, at least not until the hurricane passes. I’ll be back in ten minutes. Tops. Rest.” She grabbed her keycard, shoving the plastic in her back pocket and walked out into the hallway, closing the door with a soft click. She was able to hear the howling wind, could feel more of the rocking motions, even though they were subtle.