CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The late afternoon sun beat down on Platform Two as Snow made his way to the next item on his punch list. He had been at this for hours now, trailed by two of Brett’s men like a pair of loyal dogs who didn’t know when to quit.
He and Nova had been aboard the rig for two full days, and they hadn’t uncovered anything concrete. But it hadn’t done a damn thing to ease the knot in his gut. If anything, it had made it worse.
Brett and Clint weren’t acting like men with nothing to hide.
Between the constant surveillance, the carefully controlled access, and their determination to keep both him and Nova within arm’s reach of one of their people, their actions spoke louder than any evidence ever could.
They were hiding something. Snow just hadn’t figured out what, or where, it was yet.
He crouched beside a pressure valve, feigning interest in the readings while his jaw tightened with frustration. Every corridor he wanted to explore, every door he wanted to open—these two were right there, watching, and reporting back to their master, no doubt.
The only real progress he had managed had come the night before. After waiting until nearly two in the morning, when most of the crew had finally turned in, he had slipped quietly from his and Nova’s room while the rig settled into its nighttime rhythm.
Moving through the shadows, he had managed to sweep the top two levels of Platform Two without drawing attention. Every maintenance room and storage closet he had been able to access had come up clean. No evidence that explained why so many federal agencies had taken such an interest in this place.
He still hadn’t been able to get anywhere near Platform Three, the place that he really wanted access to.
That isn’t saying that he hadn’t tried. The night he snuck out, he tried to access it, but his key card wouldn’t work on the steel-grated door leading to the catwalk connecting Platform One to Platform Three.
Nova had pegged Brett from the moment she had met him that first night.
Arrogant didn’t begin to describe the man.
Calculating, controlling, and predatory were far more fitting.
The polished smile and easy confidence were nothing more than a mask hiding someone who was used to getting exactly what he wanted.
Snow had seen it for himself in the way Brett smiled. He was all teeth and no warmth, like a shark circling its prey.
Just that morning, Brett had looked directly at the two men tailing Snow and said, “Make sure you stick to Platform Two. I don’t want anyone wandering where they don’t belong.”
That sentence had echoed in Snow’s mind all day. Because in his experience, the quickest way to make someone curious about a place was to tell them they weren’t allowed to go there.
“Hey,” Snow said, straightening up and wiping grease from his hands. He nodded toward a junction box mounted on the far wall. “That panel there, what does it control? The auxiliary pumps or the secondary filtration?”
The two men exchanged a look. The younger one, Dalton, scratched his head. “Uh, I think it’s the pumps?”
“You think?” Snow pressed.
Dalton’s partner, a thick-necked guy named Voss, shrugged. “Hell if I know. Capperson would know. That guy knew this rig like his own backyard.”
“Who’s that?” Snow asked.
“He was one of the engineers. Been with the crew since we started construction, like a year and a half back. He was also one of Brett’s right-hand men,” Dalton said.
“Then about seven weeks ago he just disappeared. Everyone still wonders what happened to him. Dude was there one day, gone the next. Weird as hell.”
Snow kept his expression neutral, but his mind was already turning it over.
One of Brett’s right-hand men just disappeared with no explanation, and the crew was still whispering about it.
Men like this Capperson guy didn’t walk off an oil platform in the middle of the Gulf without anybody knowing what happened.
He made a mental note to have Nova look into his personnel records. Her cover gave her access he couldn’t touch without raising flags, and if there was a paper trail on Capperson, like a termination notice, a transfer, anything, she could find it.
Before he could press Voss for more, his phone buzzed. He pulled it from his pocket and smiled when Nova’s name lit up the screen.
Nova: Are you free for dinner? I have something to run by you.
His gut told him this wasn’t just an excuse to share a meal. Nova’s legal mind was always working, always connecting dots everyone else overlooked. If she had discovered something, he wanted to hear it.
Besides, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to dinner and spending a little time with her.
The mission had stolen most of their time together over the last two days, leaving little more than five a.m. workouts, quick hourly texts, and the occasional conversation before one of them inevitably fell asleep. Somewhere along the way, he had started missing those conversations.
He wasn’t about to pass up the chance to have one now.
He typed back a reply.
Snow: Dinner sounds good. Give me about an hour and a half to finish up?
Nova: Perfect. See you then.
Snow grinned as he slipped his phone into his pocket and turned back to Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb.
“We’re gonna head in and grab chow with the guys,” Dalton said, jerking his chin toward Platform One. “You wanna come?”
“Nah. You guys go ahead,” Snow said, turning back to the junction box. “I’m gonna finish up here with these machines, then I’m meeting my colleague for dinner.”
“You sure?” Voss asked, his brow lifting.
“Yeah, as long as you don’t mind. It won’t take me long.”
Dalton grinned, elbowing Voss. “Dude, would you pass on spending time with that hottie lawyer?”
He then turned toward Snow. “That woman is hot as hell, man. You’re a lucky bastard.” He winked. “I sure as hell hope that you’re tapping that.”
Snow’s jaw tightened, but he kept his face flat and his voice even. “She’s just a colleague.” He had learned a long time ago that men like these fed on reactions, and he wasn’t about to give them one. But the comment sat in his gut like a hot coal.
He made another mental note to tell Nova to watch her back around those two.
Once their footsteps faded down the deck, he exhaled and straightened. He had an hour and a half with no shadows breathing down his neck.
Just as he took a step toward the stairs, movement across the way on Platform Three caught his eye.
Snow pulled his phone from his pocket. He hit the camera and zoomed in until the person came into focus.
Well, well, well, Snow thought as he watched Brett walk toward the catwalk connecting the platforms.
Snow snapped a few pictures, then lowered the phone, his eyes still fixed on Brett. His gut told him that whatever they were searching for was over there. One way or another, he was going to find a way onto that platform.
◆◆◆
Nova stepped into the dining area and immediately felt the weight of many sets of eyes. At least ten men were scattered across the space, finishing up their dinners.
Over the last two days, she had met enough of the crew to start recognizing faces. Most were courteous, if a little curious about the corporate attorney who had invaded their floating workplace. Sure, a handful let their gaze drift where it shouldn’t, but she ignored it.
She smiled and nodded as she crossed the dining room to the kitchen. She spotted Clint at the sink. His sleeves were rolled up as he washed dishes.
It never failed that he appeared wherever she was. It was like he had placed a LoJack on her. The man had been hovering around her for two days straight, popping into the office area every so often with that practiced concern.
He and Brett were always meeting in Brett’s office behind closed doors.
She had told herself that she wished she could be a fly on the wall to hear what they talked about.
However, earlier she sort of got that wish when they had accidentally left the door cracked, and she was able to catch a little of their conversation.
She wasn’t able to hear everything, but she did hear enough that it was worth mentioning to Snow.
She pushed through the swinging door into the kitchen and walked toward the stocked shelves of dry goods.
“Need a hand finding anything?” Clint called out from behind her.
“No, thank you. I’m just going to throw something easy together for Mr. Iverson and me.”
“Dinner together?” Clint said, seeming surprised. “I was beginning to wonder if the two of you ever crossed paths.”
“We pass each other often enough to remember we’re supposed to be working together,” she said as the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. It seemed as if she and Snow were definitely being watched very closely.
After a few minutes, Clint left the kitchen, and soon after, she heard the rest of the dining area empty out, all of the chatter fading until the entire galley went quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator.
She continued searching the shelves for something to make. She enjoyed cooking. It was relaxing. But cooking for one person felt pointless, and when she and Rick were together, he had always insisted on eating out where he could be seen.
Thinking of Rick, at least, he had stopped calling. But that was only because he was out of town with one of his donors. At least that is what his last text to her had said.
Too bad her mother couldn’t take a trip somewhere and forgot about her. Earlier she had called three times and sent two texts, each one a carefully crafted guilt trip.
She looked at her watch. She had thirty minutes before Snow would get there. She checked the walk-in and saw they had shrimp, giving her an idea of what to make. She grabbed everything from the walk-in and pantry that she needed, set her phone to a music app, and got to work.
◆◆◆
Snow caught the smell of garlic and butter before he even reached the galley door. The rich scent made his stomach growl, and his mouth water.