Julien seemed to understand. He nodded and sat back in the chair, giving her a long look. “He doesn’t believe you are committed.” The explanation took her aback. “Jean Paul is a man of strong convictions and holds those around him to a similar standard. I have told him that you believe just as strongly as we do and are willing to do what it takes, but...”
“But?”
Julien looked apologetic. “He doesn’t think we can count on you. He thinks Americans are spoiled and weak. That they are all fluff, no substance, and cannot be counted on. That they are all words and with their nice comfortable lives no longer know how to sacrifice for their beliefs.”
Annie didn’t consider herself much of a patriot, but she felt a little Stars and Stripes stirring in her now. She bristled defensively. What a gross oversimplification. And she knew about sacrifice. “That is ridiculous.”
He shrugged. “Is it?” He looked at her questioningly. “You claim to be committed to stopping North Sea Offshore Drilling from drilling and preventing another disaster like the one in the Gulf. You said you wanted to do something—something big that they couldn’t ignore to stop them. But ever since we arrived you have been having second thoughts.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But it’s true.”
She didn’t deny it. “I just said I didn’t like your friend. The thought of spending a week with him confined to one small area of a ship...” She stopped, seeing the “I know something you don’t” smile spread across his features. “What is it?”
“If that is what is bothering you, you have nothing to worry about. Jean Paul isn’t coming with us on the drillship—only on the charter to help coordinate everything. He doesn’t dive. It will be me, you, and Claude.”
She’d just assumed... “He’s not?”
Julien shook his head.
Annie felt an enormous sense of relief. The only thing that would have been better was if Julien had said he wasn’t going at all.
“So what is it to be, Anne? We can’t do it without you. Hasit all been talk? Are you going to back out and let the drillship company win, or are you willing to do what it takes to destroy them?”
If she thought it a strange choice of words, she didn’t pay too much attention to it. Julien was often a little off in translation.
Annie knew the time for indecision had passed. She thought of everything she’d done the past eight years to try to make sure nothing like the Gulf BP oil spill ever happened again. All the volunteer work, all the lectures, all the research and writing. She thought of all the times it felt as if she was banging her head against the wall to get anyone to listen to her, let alone care. She thought of the dead birds, turtles, and dolphins cloaked in black sludge. She thought of the beautiful Lewis seashore and knew there was only one decision she could make. “I’m in.”
Julien beamed. “I knew I chose wisely! Let’s get dressed and go find that beach.”
•••
Keep your head down. Do your job. Don’t get involved.
Dean knew what he had to do, but as he sat on the captain’s chair in the wheelhouse, watching Julien and the other two men loading the black metal-trimmed equipment cases from the truck onto the boat, every bone in his body fought against it. The hairs on the back of his neck were on edge, and his spidey senses were going wild. It was the most alive he’d felt in months.
These guys were up to no good.
Once again, he wondered what Annie Henderson had gotten herself mixed up in. Although as she hadn’t arrived this morning with the other passengers, he hoped she was having second thoughts since he’d left her at the guest house a couple of nights ago.
He watched Julien and the other young guy—Claude—struggle with another large case as they carried it across the deck.
Fuck it.Dean pushed back from the chair, exited thewheelhouse, and descended the bridge stairs onto the deck. He’d never stood aside in his life, and he wasn’t about to start now.
When the two men emerged from below deck, Dean said, “I didn’t realize there would be so much cargo. What do you have in there? I thought you were planning to dive.”
Julien gave him that superior “carry my man purse, you peon” look Dean already hated. “We aren’t paying you to think, Mr. Warren.”
“Captain,” Dean corrected.
“Captain,” Julien repeated snidely. “We hired you to drive the boat, not ask questions.”
Dean was about to tell him to go to hell, but a third man spoke behind him. For someone whose life often depended on his ability to detect someone sneaking up on him, it was disconcerting as hell. Four weeks of sitting on his ass watching the waterways for something that didn’t exist was catching up to him.
“It’s camera equipment,” Jean Paul said with an admonishing look to Julien. “We are planning to make a short film to aid in our protest against the drillship.”
“Is that right?” Dean said. He hadn’t thought much of their ringleader that first night in the bar—and his opinion hadn’t changed. Julien was a douche bag but harmless. This guy? Not harmless. He was pure thug. “Sounds interesting. I’ve done some filming myself,” Dean lied. “What kind of cameras do you use?”
