“No.” Gene shook his head. “It wasn’t him. It was OPEC. Goddamned OPEC!” Gene cursed, taking off his Stetson to run a hand through his gray hair. His droopy handlebar mustache quivered when he glanced out at the open ocean, hoping to see a way out. But Tony knew that nothing but endless, undulating waves surrounded the vessel. Certainly no other solution to their problem.
If they wanted to save the oil business, this was it. A Hail Mary pass in the final minutes.
“Goddamn OPEC,” Gene said again, pounding his fist on the arm of the molded fiberglass sofa before replacing his cowboy hat. The Organization of Petroleum Exporting Countries—made up of the twelve most oil-rich and least American-friendly nations—was a cartel that kept a stranglehold on the world through its control of the majority of the earth’s crude oil reserves. And right now it had a stranglehold on their company. “I don’t know why we didn’t bomb the shit out of all of them when they first incorporated sixty-five years ago.”
“We didn’t ‘bomb the shit out of all of them’ because leveling entire nations just to make sure they couldn’t profit from their own natural resources would’ve been frowned upon by…well…pretty much everyone,” Tony explained, noticing the time on his gold GMT-Master Rolex and getting increasingly antsy as the seconds ticked by.
“Well, now they’re tryin’ to stopusfrom controllin’ and profitin’ fromournatural resources,” Gene snarled. “How’s that fair?” Before Tony could respond, Gene answered his own question. “I’ll tell you how. Plain and simple, itain’t.”
“That’s why we have to see this through,” Tony said. “If we do this, we’ll have enough cash to get a couple of the new ventures up and running. Once they are, they’ll fund the rest. And then when everything is online and we’re pumping out hundreds of thousands of barrels of crude a day, the United States will be safer than it’s ever been. And that’ll be thanks to us. You and me, Gene. Just imagine it.”
The only reason Gene had finally agreed to this scheme was because Tony had couched his arguments in a bunch of flag-waving hoopla. It had worked like a charm then. It worked liked a charm now.
“You swear to me no one will get hurt,” Gene demanded. His bottom lip, visible beneath his ridiculous mustache, quivered.
Oh, for God’s sake.If the man started crying, Tony would be hard-pressed not to slap his face.
“My guys’ plan is sound and every scenario has been accounted for.”
“Your guys.” Gene shook his head, sounding so much like Foghorn Leghorn that Tony was surprised he didn’t start his next sentence withI say, I say. “You keep callin’ them that. Where did you find them anyway?”
“You’d be amazed at how many ex–armed forces types are willing to sell their services for the right price.”
Gene grimaced.
Poor Gene. Always thinking the best of people.It was genetic. Everyone in the Powers family suffered from the same affliction.
“Come on, Gene.” Tony sighed. “It’s just three girls, one woman, and a wet-behind-the-ears park ranger. It’ll be a breeze.”
“A breeze, huh?” Gene smoothed his mustache and wet his lips with his tongue. “Then tell me again why there are guns involved.”
Tony smiled, but the expression held no humor. “Surely, since you’re a born-and-bred Texan, I don’t need to explain that to you.” When Gene scowled his impatience, Tony elaborated. “Shock and awe, my man. Shock and awe. Besides, we need to make this thing look legit if we want him to pony up the cash and do it quickly.”
“Shock and awe better beallit’ll be.” Gene pressed a hand to his chest as if his heart was hurting. That’s all Tony needed, for the waffling old cuss to have a heart attack.Although, on second thought…If Gene keeled over with a coronary, Tony would be left at the helm. Which would make thingssomuch easier.
“If anything happens to Maddy,” Gene said, shaking his head, “I’ll never—”
“Nothing is going to happen to her,” Tony assured him. When Gene searched his eyes, he made sure his expression reflected one-hundred-percent sincerity.
Gene turned to stare out at the ocean again, a muscle ticking in his jaw. Tony simply sat and waited. Gene had donned his decision-making face, and Tony knew better than to intrude. Finally, Gene blew out a breath. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
Tony flashed Gene a reassuring wink before lifting the satellite phone in his hand and barking two words: “Go time.”
Chapter 3
6:35 p.m.…
“I don’t think I’malwaysright,” Mason said. “I just think I’m hyper-fuckin’-competent, which leads to a higher-than-usual occurrence of being right.”
“Well, I guess you really put me in my place, didn’t you, Mr. Muscles McSmartypants?” Alex countered. “But I’m telling you, I heard somewhere that—”
“And here comes the useless trivia.” Mason’s exasperation was evident to Bran, even though he was high above the deck of the catamaran in the captain’s chair, busy keeping the mainsail full of the warm wind blowing across Hawk Channel and trying to read the fast currents doing their best to pull the sailboat off course.
“Just so we’re clear,” Alex huffed, crossing her arms and glaring at Mason, “I think I like you better when you aren’t speaking.”
Bran frowned down at the two of them. They’d been trading insults since he weighed anchor and set sail for the Dry Tortugas. It was amazing how two people could take such extreme delight in rubbing each other the wrong way.
Amazing and annoying.Definitelyannoying.
