“Come on, you need to dance.” Christiaan snatched her from the booth. He stepped behind her, placed his hands on her shoulders, and pointed her toward the dance floor.
“You’re not trading almost eight years of sobriety for one minute of empty comfort,” he whispered in her ear. “The price is too high.”
Vicky couldn’t argue with that. Not in the state she was in. She offered no resistance as he pushed her forward.
They stopped at the edge of the dance floor. Christiaan stepped around to face her. His gaze wandered over her slowly, like a caress. She lost herself in those gorgeous blue eyes, and her hunger for him doubled.
For the first time in a long time, she felt alive.
Vicky sank into his arms like she’d never left. Like the last eight years had disappeared.
Her husband wrapped a strong, powerful arm around her waist and drew her closer. The familiar smell of the man she’d fallen in love with intoxicated her.
They swayed to the music, the action around them ceasing to exist. Only them.
“Isn’t this better than Scotch?” he whispered, warm breath on her ear sending shivers down her spine.
Much better.
His heat seared her emotions. Her body burned with an astounding intensity as she ran her hands over his broad chest. Memories of being as physically close as a husband and wife can be rushed over her. She collapsed against him.
Christiaan explored the hollows of her back. His breath caressed her shoulders like a warm summer breeze. A shiver of passion awakened.
Their dancing slowed as Vicky pressed her hips against his arousal. Christiaan growled and pulled their bodies even closer.
He buried his hand in her hair and brushed his lips across her forehead. Cupping the back of her head, he ran his thumb down her jaw line to her chin before bringing it up to gently stroke her bottom lip.
His breath fanned her face, teasing her, taunting her.
She looked up into her husband’s eyes and saw something that stunned her. Recognition? Regret?
Desire.
Christiaan dipped his head and brushed his lips across hers. She moaned as his tongue traced her mouth. Her lips parted, and he accepted the invitation.
Hmm. Better than she remembered.
Their tongues swirled against one another, each exploring the other. Heat washed over Vicky, and she intensified the kiss. She was Brianna again. In the arms of the man she loved. Nothing, no one could separate them again.
Something caught her arm and jerked it, hard.
“I need to talk to you,” Rainbow said.
“Can’t it wait?” Please.
“No.” Her friend struggled to push herself between Vicky and Christiaan. Vicky clung to him, not wanting the dream to end. Her hair caught on his watch. The spike of pain brought her back to reality.
Christiaan pulled away, an odd look on his face.
The music had stopped, everyone’s eyes fixed on the commotion.
Vicky smiled then dragged Rainbow outside. She waited until the door swung shut before letting loose.
“What’s wrong with you!” Vicky yelled.
“Look!” Rainbow shoved a stack of photos at her. “Here are the shots David took out at Mineral Springs. He emailed them to me, and I printed them out so I could study them. You, obviously, didn’t look at them at all.”
“I haven’t had time yet,” Vicky said. “I’ll look at them tomorrow, okay?”
“No! Now!”
Vicky took them, squinting to see in the poor light. The first couple of shots were taken from a ridge overlooking the site. They showed people milling around one of the mineral springs the property was named for.
“What are you so worked up about?” Vicky asked.
“Keep going,” Rainbow said.
The next two showed a half dozen men in hardhats next to a large drilling rig and tall stacks of pipe. “What? They’re test drilling already?”
“That’s not the big surprise. Look here.” Rainbow grabbed at the stack of pictures, knocking them to the floor. Both women kneeled in the sea of images. Rainbow studied each one, looking for what Vicky couldn’t comprehend. She hadn’t seen her friend so worked up since Rainbow discovered the traveling circus abusing the elephants.
Rainbow snapped up the photos, slipping them one by one into her hand like a poker player. In one quick minute, she had her run and shoved the winning hand at Vicky.
She scrutinized the top picture. A forklift was off-loading shrink-wrapped pallets of large sacks. The next image showed numerous pallets stacked between a storage building and an office trailer. Yet another showed equipment she couldn’t identify parked near the main access road.
David had obviously used his new telephoto lens for the next one. In the photo, two men stood near the front gate, holding what looked to be a large blueprint. A tree branch obscured the pair a bit, but one face was clear enough to identify.
Baz.
Vicky could barely breathe.
“That’s one of the cuties I met in your office yesterday.” Rainbow tapped the photo with a finger.
Vicky flipped to the last picture, already sure what she was about to find.
In this one, the other man’s face was turned toward the camera.
Blood roared in her ears.
“And that’s the other one. If I’d have known who the bastards were, I never would have told them about you, me, and ShastaWatch.”
Christiaan.
“Vicky, I can explain,” a Dutch accent behind her said. He’d followed them outside.
She held up her hand to cut him off. “No explanation necessary.”
He was the enemy.
He was Summit Energy.
And he was ruining her life... again.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Vicky had escaped death, conquered alcoholism, and fooled everyone into believing she was dead.
Yet, she couldn’t manage to make a stinking pot of coffee.
Was that five scoops or six?
The sound of ShastaWatch members squabbling between themselves drifted into the kitchen. After last night’s grand revelation at the roadhouse, Vicky had called an early-morning emergency meeting. The handful of people that could make it now sat in her living room, brainstorming ideas on how to stop Summit Energy.
How to stop Christiaan.
She yanked the paper filter from the basket, showering coffee onto the counter.
Crap.
Vicky brushed the scattered grounds into the garbage then grabbed the scoop and started counting over again.
Too bad she couldn’t start last night over again.
What a sucker she’d been.
Everything Christiaan had said and done over the last two days was an act. Pure and simple. He’d needed to gain her trust to find a weakness. So he could take everything away from her again. Their son’s sonogram flashed through her mind.
Another scoop of coffee hurled into the basket.
“Crap! Was that five or six?”
“Five.” Rainbow appeared in the doorway, Starbucks cup in one hand, serving platter filled with heaven knows what in the other.
“I see you’re indulging this morning.” Vicky nodded toward the venti.
“Yeah.” Rainbow crossed the room and pulled up a stool beside Vicky. “After last night’s great adventure, I figured I’d earned a double chocolate iced soy chai latte with extra cinnamon.”
Last night. Vicky had refused to listen to anything Christiaan said. Stunned by the revelation he was the rat bastard ShastaWatch was fighting, she’d escaped to her lodge while Rainbow tore him a new one. Another minute in his presence and Vicky would have killed a fifth of Scotch, easily.
Or Christiaan, easily.
“Anything exciting happen after I left?” Vicky slung another scoop of coffee into the filter. “Like spontaneous penile dismemberment or self-inflicted castration?”
Rainbow laughed. “No, he pretty much clammed up. Just stood there, waited until I�
��d said my piece then wished me a good night and walked off.”
Ahh, the legendary van Laere self-control and politeness. Valuable assets for business. Significant liabilities for marriage.
“Now, his cute, ponytailed friend…” Rainbow continued. “He’s another story.”
“What?” Vicky asked.
“Well, after Baron von Rat Face sauntered off, Rat Face-In-Waiting was all over me, saying we’d ‘made a connection’ at Climbing for Singles the other day and how badly he wanted to buy me a drink.” Rainbow shrugged her shoulders. “Figured I might learn something valuable we could use for the cause, so I chilled out and let him spend his money.”
“Way to go, Mata Hari.” Vicky snapped the coffee basket into place and punched the on button. “How’d it go?”
“I learned a few things that might help. Between his Dutch accent and Scotch-soaked speech, he tried to impress me with his job title—executive vice president of development for VL Holdings—who, by the way, is really behind the Mineral Springs project. They just used the name Summit Energy to avoid attention.”
That explained why Vicky hadn’t made the connection.
The sweet aroma of brewing coffee filled the kitchen. Vicky watched the liquid drip slowly. What other secrets could Christiaan be hiding?
“I found out some stuff about Baron von Rat Face, like he owns the company and he and Baz have been best friends since childhood,” Rainbow said, taking a sip of her latte. “By the way, care to explain how you and his highness ended up in each other’s arms last night?”
Venti order. Vicky stifled a yawn. She’d lain awake all night looking for an explanation herself.
Nothing yet.
“No, I don’t.” Vicky busied herself by grabbing non-dairy creamer and the sugar bowl from a cabinet. She placed both next to a dozen coffee mugs on a serving tray on the counter.
Rainbow peered at her sideways. “Okay, I’ll let it slide for now, but eventually I want details.”
Another sip of latte then she continued. “We have another round of drinks, flirt a bit… yadda, yadda, yadda… Then he asks me if I’d like to go back to his suite for a Dutch treat.”
Vicky rolled her eyes.
“Yeah, corny line, but I think, what the hell? He’s attractive, he’s hooked in with Summit, so with a little pillow talk I might learn something we could use to run these guys out of town. Plus, Mars is in my eighth house—Scorpio—so the sex would be mind-blowing.” Rainbow shrugged her shoulders. “Hey, wouldn’t be the first time I’ve used sex to protect the mountain.”
“No,” Vicky said. “There was the time you kept the real estate developer occupied so he missed his meeting with the Forest Service. Bye, bye proposed townhouses.”
“Yeah, Gordon. He was fun.” Rainbow smiled. “So, while Baz and I are walking to my car, I ask him about Mineral Springs, and he starts bitching about how Christiaan has so much riding on this project that he’s personally handling stuff Baz usually does. How did he put it?” Rainbow tapped her bottom lip with her finger. “Umm, ‘Christiaan is so far up my sphincter I’m gagging on his shoelaces’.”
“Nice visual,” Vicky said. “Did you talk about our objections to geothermal energy?”
“Yeah, while we drove back to his hotel. He gave me the usual stuff. How the project would revitalize the economy, provide jobs, supply much-needed renewable energy… yadda, yadda, yadda.”
“And cover the landscape with toxic sump ponds and transmission lines,” Vicky added. “Fill the air with steam plumes, chemical odors, and noise from well-drilling and construction. Destroy the spiritual and cultural significance to Native Americans.”
“I mentioned all that. Of course, he gave his ‘personal guarantee that we’ll do everything possible to protect the environment and the cultural history of the area’.”
“That and four dollars will buy me a frappuccino at Starbucks.” Vicky crossed her arms and leaned against the kitchen counter. “They have as much interest in protecting the environment as I do climbing Everest naked.”
“He was emphatic about their devotion, saying they were already on site conducting tests to comply with EPA requirements. When we got back to his suite, I showed him David’s pictures and asked him to explain exactly what they were doing. He showed me where engineers were mapping old-growth trees, taking ground water and soil samples, even conducting an endangered species assessment.”
“Really?” Vicky asked. “Looked like a lot of people and equipment for just simple testing. I’m guessing they’re already drilling.”
“I thought so, too, so I asked him to explain exactly what was in the rest of the pictures. But Romeo didn’t want to talk anymore, so…” Rainbow smiled. “We didn’t.”
“You got your Dutch Treat?”
“Yeah, three times,” Rainbow giggled. “Then this morning, as he walked me to my car, I asked if he and Baron von Rat Face would consider taking us on a tour of the site, show us exactly what they’re doing.”
“And?”
“He said no. Then he leaned in, kissed me, and said ‘Tell your fearless leader we’ll do whatever it takes to build the Mineral Springs plant. Whatever.’ Then he turned on his heel and left.”
A chill raced through Vicky. She didn’t want to contemplate the possible permutations of “whatever”.
Kaitlen, a law student and ShastaWatch’s defacto legal counsel, popped into the kitchen. “The natives are getting restless. Coffee soon?”
“Almost.” Vicky handed the serving tray to her. “Take that, and I’ll follow with the pot in a minute.”
“Sure.” Kaitlen headed back into the living room.
“Wait, my eggplant and hummus pita chips will go great with that!” Rainbow raced after her, platter in hand.
Vicky turned to stare out the large picture window onto the pristine landscape surrounding her lodge. A wave of déjà vu swept over her.
Christiaan backing her into a corner. “Or-else” threats thrown at her like baseballs. Nowhere to turn. No one to turn to.
Brianna had no choice then.
Vicky had them all now.
She grabbed the java and marched into the living room. A “Yeah, caffeine!” chorus greeted her. Vicky sat the pot down on the stone sofa table and found an empty spot on the warm hearth. Everybody stopped talking long enough to fix coffee. When they settled back down, Vicky started the meeting.
“Okay, everybody. We now have a name and face to our enemy, how do we stop him?”
“According to Sun Tzu in The Art of War,” Nelson, a local college professor, spoke up. “‘Know thyself. Know thy enemy.’ So, I googled him this morning.” He poked at his iPad. “I stored it offline since somebody doesn’t believe in having wifi in her far-off mountain hideaway. Okay, listen to this… Christiaan Stokman, Baron van Laere, is—”
“Oooh!” Phoebe, a waitress from the local diner, squealed. “A baron? Do we have to curtsy when His Grace enters the room?”
Vicky shook her head. Too many romance novels. “Go on, Nelson.”
“Van Laere is CEO of VL Holdings, a multibillion-dollar holding company with annual revenues of $2.3 billion, the company ranks forty-seven on Forbes magazine’s list of the top 600 international private companies.”
“VL Holdings? I thought we were dealing with Summit Energy,” Phoebe asked.
“Subsidiary.” Kaitlen chimed in. “Probably to avoid any kind of foreign-ownership prejudice when applying for government grants and funds.”
“And it’s legal?” Lance, an herbalist, asked.
“Yes. Questionable, but very much legal.”
“So, we have a wooden-shoe blue blood, a multibillion-dollar company with an identity problem, several government agencies with renewable energy tunnel vision, and—,” Nelson stopped to let Vicky read an email from their inside source at the California Energy Commission.
“As of late yesterday, a pledge of $50 million over sixty months to Summit Energy if the Mineral Springs plant is ope
rational in four years.” Nelson shook his head. “We haven’t a prayer.”
“All hope is not lost.” Vicky rose to her feet and began pacing. “We need a bargaining chip. Something to force Christiaan to rethink his position.”
“I could hand out flyers at the diner like Rainbow did at the yoga center last week.” Elbows on thighs, Phoebe cradled her chin in her hands.
“Been there. Done that. Nada difference,” Rainbow answered.
“What if we hold a big rally in the city park? Something festival-like, with music, games for the kids, an information booth where we could educate everybody on the problem—” Lance began waving his hand. “Oh! We could blow up a big picture of van Laere and have people throw darts, and give away pri—”
“Whoa, there, P.T. Barnum,” Kaitlen interrupted. “We don’t have enough time or budget to put something together like that.”
Nelson cleared his throat. “What about a news conference at the site? Present our concerns and let public opinion take it from there?”
Kaitlen whistled. “Hello? Didn’t we try that already? All the major media outlets in the state told us not to bother them with typical treehugger stuff. Only in California could something like this not make the news.”
“Too bad we don’t have a video of van Laere driving a big honking SUV while drinking inorganic coffee from a styrofoam cup and tossing disposable diapers from the window into a landfill... that would get their attention,” Phoebe said.
Kaitlen wagged a finger. “But I think you might be onto something.”
“What do you mean?” Vicky stopped pacing.
“Van Laere might think twice about building here if he thought bad publicity could cripple his position,” Kaitlen explained.
“Like what?”
Kaitlen’s brows furrowed. “Something so-o-o big, so-o-o negative that public opinion would turn against him. Something that would make the government reconsider their position and stop Summit Energy dead in their tracks.”
“I don’t know.” Lance sounded unsure. “That’s not really playing fair.”
Van Laeres aren’t bred to play fair.
“He’s not. Why should we?” Kaitlen grabbed Nelson’s iPad. “What else do we know about this guy?” She silently read, stopping periodically to offer a line or two aloud. “Forty-two years of age… only child… law degree from Leiden University… MBA from Erasmus University Rotterdam… took over family business at age 30… lost American wife, the Lady van Laere, in an accidental explosion… no children…”
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