CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The low thrum of the helicopter blades beat through Nova’s body like a second pulse.
She sat rigid in the narrow seat with a folder balanced in her lap while the aircraft thundered through the Gulf sky. The constant vibration worked through her bones and teeth, and every slight dip or sway of the helicopter made her stomach tighten.
Outside the small window beside her stretched nothing but endless blue water beneath the hazy midday sun.
It was close to four in the afternoon, and they had been in the air for almost an hour. This was only her second time riding in a helicopter, and she hated it just as much as she hated it the first time.
She kept telling herself it was perfectly safe, that people flew offshore every day without plunging into the Gulf like a scene from an action movie, but logic wasn’t winning the argument inside her head.
Snow had found her hatred for helicopters amusing. Not in a cruel way. But now and then, she would catch him grinning whenever the helicopter’s movement made her grip the edge of her seat harder.
For most of the ride, they had remained quiet, partly because the roar of the blades made conversation difficult and partly because there wasn’t much to say.
Snow occasionally would look at his tablet while Nova attempted to focus on some files she had brought with her.
Attempted was the key word. Concentrating was difficult when she was sitting beside Snow, and every time his arm brushed hers or his muscular thigh shifted against her leg, her concentration scattered.
It was annoying considering she prided herself on being composed under pressure.
But apparently Navy SEALs with broad shoulders, calm confidence, and attractive faces were distracting for her.
She flipped another page in the file, pretending to reread a contract while her thoughts drifted back to their conversation over beers at the hotel the night before.
If someone had told her forty-eight hours ago that Snow would voluntarily seek her out, sit down across from her, and apologize for being an ass, she would have laughed in their face.
Yet that was exactly what had happened. What had surprised her even more was that the apology had been genuine.
There hadn’t been any excuses or attempts to justify his behavior. He had just owned it.
Just like he had misjudged her, she too was a little guilty of assuming he was arrogant. The type of man who knew women stared at him and enjoyed every second of it. And maybe there was a little truth to that because she noticed he and the others caught a lot of attention.
But underneath that easy confidence, there was something else she hadn’t expected.
He was observant, patient, and seemed protective in a way that didn’t feel forced or controlling.
He listened to her when she spoke. And when he talked about his family and growing up in New Mexico, there was something genuine in his voice that surprised her.
She had enjoyed talking to him more than she probably should have, especially considering the disaster her personal life had become recently.
And there was the phone call. Or rather, the phone call he didn’t answer.
She didn’t miss the brief flash of irritation that crossed his face when he looked at the screen.
More importantly, she hadn't missed the name. At the time, she had told herself it wasn’t any of her business.
Yet that hadn’t stopped her from wondering who Yvette was.
Before she could put any more thought into it, Snow nudged her lightly with his elbow, then pointed toward the window.
When she looked out, her breath caught instantly.
The oil rig rose from the Gulf in the distance like some giant steel beast clawing its way out of the ocean.
Even from far away, it looked enormous, with layers of metal platforms, cranes, pipes, and towering structures stretching against the horizon.
The entire structure was made up of three separate platforms positioned in a rough triangular shape, each connected by steel bridges stretching approximately one hundred and fifty yards between them. From above, it looked like a giant industrial spider web sitting on the water.
As the helicopter got closer, the sheer size of it became almost overwhelming. Eighty-eight miles offshore suddenly felt very far away.
Snow leaned slightly closer so she could hear him over the headset. “You okay?” he asked. “You look like you’re trying to decide whether you’re impressed or terrified.”
Nova shot him a flat look. “I’m wondering if it’s too late to tell the pilot I forgot something back on shore.”
His laugh crackled through the headset just as the helicopter circled once before beginning its descent toward the landing pad, and Nova’s stomach immediately protested. The aircraft dipped slightly, and her fingers tightened around the seat again.
Oh God.
Snow noticed immediately. “You okay there, counselor?”
“No,” she answered honestly. “If this thing drops into the ocean, my ghost is coming back and haunting you specifically.”
That earned another laugh from him, and somehow the sound relaxed her a little.
Nova nearly sighed in relief as she felt the skids settle against the platform. The second the crew signaled they could unbuckle, she moved quickly, climbing out into the warm Gulf air while the blades continued spinning overhead.
The moment her sneakers hit the metal grate, she took a deep breath. At least she was off the flying death machine. Though now she was standing on a giant piece of steel in the middle of the ocean with land nearly ninety miles away, which wasn’t all that comforting either.
Great job, Nova, she thought dryly. You escaped the helicopter only to trap yourself on a floating steel island with possible criminals. Excellent decision-making skills.
The smell of saltwater and machinery filled the air as she looked around the platform. Workers moved across the decks in the distance. Pipes and steel beams stretched everywhere, and the low hum of the rig vibrated beneath her feet.
Nova glanced up at the massive structure looming around them and felt a small knot tighten in her stomach. There was no turning back now.
◆◆◆
Snow stepped off the helicopter behind Nova, the roar of the blades still pounding through the air as the Gulf wind whipped across the platform.
The second his boots hit the steel deck, his instincts automatically kicked in as his eyes swept across the rig, cataloging exits, blind spots, personnel movement, and security cameras in a matter of seconds.
But despite the mission, despite the constant awareness drilled into him after years of operations, part of his attention was still fixed on Nova.
More specifically, how quickly she had climbed out of the helicopter like the thing had personally offended her.
He bit back a grin as she took two deep breaths and visibly relaxed once she was standing on solid ground.
She had spent the entire flight trying to pretend she wasn’t miserable, but he had caught every death grip on the seat and every tiny flinch when turbulence hit.
Not that he would tell her, but it had been cute.
Snow grabbed both of their duffel bags. Nova looked over as he slung both bags effortlessly over one shoulder.
“You know,” she shouted over the noise, “I can carry my own bag.”
“I know you can. But judging by how fast you sprinted off that helicopter, I figured if I didn’t grab your bag, you might leave it behind in your escape attempt.”
She rolled her eyes at him, though he caught the faint smile tugging at her mouth before she turned away.
Grinning, he shifted his attention back to the structure around them.
The rig was massive. He had been offshore before during trade school training, but nothing quite this size.
Multiple platforms branched off from the main deck like steel limbs stretching across the Gulf.
Cranes loomed overhead while piping and industrial equipment wound through every level.
At first glance, it looked impressive. At second glance? It looked like a nightmare to secure. There were so many places to hide something.
If something illegal were happening here, they would have plenty of room to conceal it.
A man in jeans, boots, and a navy Gulf Ventures work shirt approached them with a friendly smile plastered across his face.
“Mr. Iverson? Ms. Hart?” he called over the helicopter noise. “I’m Clint. Assistant to the rig supervisor.”
Snow noticed Nova glance sideways at him for half a second, confusion flashing in her eyes before she hid it. He realized then that outside the team, she had never actually heard his real name before. To her, he had only ever been Snow.
Snow shook his hand briefly while Nova introduced herself beside him.
“Brett, our rig supervisor, wanted to greet you personally,” Clint continued, “but he’s dealing with something on the other side of the rig right now. He asked me to apologize on his behalf.”
Snow gave a casual nod, though internally he filed the excuse away. Eventually he would determine if it was just a convenient excuse or a valid one.
“If you would like, I can show you to your room,” Clint offered. “Then, after you get settled, I can give you the grand tour.”
“We would appreciate it,” Snow said.
As they followed Clint across the deck, Snow immediately noticed the guy’s attention drifting toward Nova every few seconds. It wasn’t subtle either. Clint’s eyes lingered too long when she pushed her windblown hair behind her ear or glanced around the platform.
Snow felt that protective and territorial instinct kicking in, which was ridiculous because Nova wasn’t his. Not to mention this was a mission. That reminder didn’t stop the irritation crawling up his spine anyway.
Clint led them through a maze of corridors and stairwells before reaching the top floor of the residential quarters.
“You guys are lucky. You get this floor to yourselves,” Clint said as he walked them down the hall.