Caught Up Page 4

  Shit.

  Jase shouldered through the rest of the crowd. A barking voice in the back of his mind urged him to keep guard, that Dixon was too proud to be made sport of, and that blood would probably flow. But his eyes refused to move from the sight of the landman. Cassie Mitchum. He pictured her again, wielding a lug wrench, and smirked. The woman had grit. Half of him had hoped she’d track him down. The other half knew better than to wish such a thing.

  Cassie. The little firecracker. In that tight, white T-shirt and those hip-hugging jeans, she looked nothing less than explosive, primed to go off. In his bed. Christ. What was wrong with him? Not the time. Or the place.

  Or the guy.

  He was not the guy. Talk about explosive. The women in his life always ended up burned. He couldn’t go there anymore, with anyone, no matter how tempting. Besides, a whole different situation needed diffusing now. Three females in the midst of a crew of sex-starved roughnecks? What else could go wrong?

  “What are they doing here?” Unmistakable envy laced the rig-rat’s voice as she planted herself at Jase’s side.

  Oh yeah, let’s throw a little jealousy into the mix. This was sure to end well.

  “I need to speak with you,” Cassie said, lifting her chin. And Jase couldn’t help but notice the faint challenge in her voice as her eyes settled on the prostitute. The primal reaction low in his belly didn’t surprise him as much as the urge to knock out every man raking Cassie’s jean-clad figure with his hungry eyes.

  “And who do you think you are?” the Daphne doppelganger snarled. “This is my territory.”

  No, it wasn’t. And it was time to end this before things got downright ugly. Besides the fact that Ms. Cassie Mitchum was proving quite the disturbance for his rig hands, she’d also managed to distract him. Him. She was a dangerous piece of work, all right. And one he’d need to keep a close eye on. Professionally speaking.

  “That’s it!” he projected his voice as loudly as he could, addressing the drilling deck, the mesmerized crowd, and his unexpected visitors. “You.” He lowered his voice and spoke out the side of his mouth as the crowd shuffled and pretended they were obeying orders. “Take your ass to the office like I told you.”

  The woman at his side cowered like a scolded child. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and whispered in her ear. “Don’t take my tone personally. This rig is a rough place, even for me. Which means you definitely shouldn’t be here.”

  She nodded up at him, fighting back tears. “I…I should just go.”

  He squeezed her shoulder. “That’d be best. You got a ride?”

  She nodded again, and as she turned to go, head hanging, something squeezed tight in his chest. On impulse he grabbed her hand. He wrenched out his wallet with the other, emptied it of all the cash in his possession, and shoved the bills into her palm. “Stay away from the rigs,” he said.

  She nodded and ran.

  It was all he could do at the moment. He didn’t have time to handle her with the kid gloves she obviously required. And something else had caught his attention. The landman was staring at him with the biggest, drowsiest eyes he’d ever seen. Oh yeah, eyes like that could be the death of a man, and Jase realized he stood defenseless next to a seething Dixon.

  “And you,” he said, locking his hand around Dixon’s arm before the man could take another angry step toward his former flame. “Get your shit and get off my drill site.” He shoved Dixon towards the trailers to collect his belongings. “Give me anymore trouble tonight and you won’t even remember the pretty ambulance lights.”

  Karyn chuckled, and Dixon’s nostrils flared as he took a step back, perhaps considering his next move for once in his life. “This ain’t over,” the now unemployed welder snarled through clenched teeth.

  Whether he spoke to the women or the men, Jase didn’t know or care. He did give a damn how hard it was to tear his gaze from the woman Karyn had recklessly escorted onto the Richardson property, but he needed to ensure Dixon found his way.

  “Boss!”

  Oh, motherfucker, what?

  “We hit!” came a cheering chorus from above.

  Now? He knew they’d been close but…

  Before he could make sure another fight didn’t erupt, Jase’s feet were pounding across the gravel. The money shot! They’d hit the gas pocket. A big one if the geologist’s prediction proved accurate.

  The promise of pay dirt was almost enough to push the crazy little landman’s presence from his mind. But not quite. He glanced over his shoulder when he reached the ladder leading up to the drilling platform. It was purely chemical, his reaction to this woman. That’s all it was. These things happened.

  “I’ll be right back,” he called, hoping she heard him over the ruckus. Or at least caught the general drift. “Chuck,” he said to his foreman, who’d met him at the stairs. “Escort the ladies to my office.”

  A double crease appeared between the weathered foreman’s eyes. “Ten-four,” the man mumbled. He’d been with Jase from the start and was no stranger to the constant circus. He felt for the man. But they’d hit.

  Despite the temptation who’d arrived at his ranch yesterday, and despite the fear that Dixon wouldn’t disappear without a fuss, Jase knew the only thing of substance in his life was racing up the hole he’d drilled fourteen thousand feet into the earth.

  …

  The man who’d identified himself as Chuck backed out of the portable building and closed the door on the meat locker Jason Lucas called an office.

  Cassie spun to face Karyn. “Was that—”

  “No,” Karyn chuckled. “That wasn’t Daphne. Ol’ girl was wearing a wig. Couldn’t you tell?”

  “Not really.” Cassie shot a scowl at the rattling window unit mounted directly behind a spreadsheet-strewn desk.

  Karyn shook her head. “Yeah, well, that was…entertainment.”

  The relief Cassie felt was replaced by a sinking feeling, deep in the pit of her stomach. She wasn’t an oil-field virgin. She’d heard the rumors. Then she’d witnessed a full-on brawl over a prostitute. And brawl was putting it nicely. It had been straight-up lust-fueled violence.

  And Jason Lucas had been right in the middle of it. Maybe she’d been wrong about him. Hell, they’d only spoken for…what? Ten minutes?

  She eyed Karyn, suspicious, and not for the first time since leaving the Backstreet. Her companion was studying the maps plastering the cheap wood paneling. They weren’t unlike the geological maps back at Valhalla’s current office, except they showed a single tract rather than the entire county. “What made you change your mind?”

  The corner of Karyn’s lips tilted up. “Let’s just say I’m not above reminding Dixon what he lost.” The bitterness in her voice, the heated exchange outside—they both let anyone with working ears know it had been a bad breakup.

  “And?”

  Karyn shrugged. “Jase is a decent guy. Give him a chance, okay?”

  Give him a chance? Jason Lucas was completely in control of his environment, be it the side of the highway or a drill site. She was the one who needed the upper hand here. And her suspicions had been confirmed.

  Cassie folded her arms and leaned into the wall next to Karyn. “Thought you’d hook your boy up, huh? Too bad we interrupted his little three-way-in-progress.” Because the Jason Lucas’s of the world didn’t lack for…company. Even if they had to fight for it. Maybe especially if they had to fight for it.

  Karyn cut her a look. “What makes you say that?”

  Cassie snickered. “I saw him pay her.” And their parting had been almost tender.

  “I don’t think you saw what I did then. My guess is he paid her to stay away. And he could’ve been a lot harsher with her. Most guys I know would’ve been.”

  “Remind me why you brought me here again?”

  Karyn chuckled. “Just trying to help you find your landowner.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “What?” Karyn asked, all innocence.

&nbs
p; “I don’t know. Probably that twinkle in your eye.”

  Irritated in a way she couldn’t describe, Cassie averted her gaze to the solitary window. Men in blue coveralls scrambled over the lighted drilling platform, but she had no trouble spotting Jason’s tall form, still stripped to the waist—which she was sure violated several safety protocols. “Please understand, I’m deeply committed to keeping it professional,” she said. “Aside from that, you don’t even know me. I could be—”

  “What?” Karyn shot back. “A serial killer disguised as the cutest pair of dimples to cross the Marian County line?” Karyn shook her head. “Sorry, babe, not gettin’ psycho from you at all.”

  “I don’t know,” Cassie said, a grin skirting her lips. “Psychopaths can appear rather charming.”

  “I’m going to let you in on a little secret here.” Karyn’s ponytail snaked over her shoulder as she leaned in. “I was tragically born with built-in blinders when it comes to the world’s male population, but I’m a pretty good judge of the fairer sex. Vibes, mojo, that kind of stuff. Then there’s the less esoteric…what someone says, how they say it, what they wear, how they wear it. It’s not that hard to figure people out.” Karyn shrugged. “Half of them anyway.”

  “I know I’m giving off awesome vibes in this stained T-shirt and all, but you just admitted you don’t know Dick from Tom or Harry.”

  Karyn just smirked.

  “Okay, the man is admittedly attractive,” Cassie blew at her bangs in frustration, “and I’d be lying if I said the whole roughneck thing didn’t appeal to my inner bad girl, but seriously, Karyn, it’s not going to happen.” It couldn’t. Rig fights notwithstanding, her attraction to Jason Lucas was palatable. She could taste it. Maybe even more now, if what Karyn said about the prostitute was true. That didn’t change the fact that their interactions must remain strictly professional. Her mother’s future depended on it. Cassie pushed away from the wall, suddenly mortified she’d confided what she had to a perfect stranger. “Promise me what I just said won’t leave this office.”

  “Listen, when you started asking about Jase…I started thinking about it back in the kitchen. I don’t know you, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t. Jase either. He needs…” Karyn shrugged. “I don’t know…it was worth a try, right?”

  Not this time, sister. Cassie had more riding on this deal than Karyn could imagine. “Not a word,” she repeated. “Promise me.”

  “You want to hook pinkies?” Karyn asked, brandishing hers.

  Cassie latched on, grinning. “I’m trusting you here.”

  “No better bitch to trust.”

  The door slammed open, and as Jason Lucas filled the doorway, Cassie had the sickening thought he’d been listening from outside, ear to the door. His mouth didn’t say a word, but his eyes said plenty as they took her in, completely ignoring the other woman in the room. Cassie had never been so aware of a gravy stain and fought the urge to adjust her shirt or posture or…something.

  “You’re the landman,” he said slowly, his voice thicker than she remembered.

  “In the flesh,” she said, extending her hand, along with all the confidence she could muster.

  Her arm languished, suspended, and she finally dropped it when she realized his was covered in grease or drilling mud or something else a dozen dry cleanings couldn’t remove.

  “Still don’t look like a man to me.”

  Karyn clucked her tongue, but Cassie managed to hold hers. The man worked the rigs. He knew “landman” was the industry term, and she didn’t feel the need to explain or tell him she’d considered using “land agent” for a while but abandoned the idea because it sounded like she was pillaging the plains a hundred and fifty years ago, selling stolen Sioux lands to settlers. Wait. Was he…flirting?

  Not likely after the shutout yesterday.

  But the thought threw her off guard. Jason Lucas took a step in her direction, and she struggled to don her game face. And it was a hell of a game. She was aware of every move she made in front of him. She screamed at herself that it didn’t matter if her nipples hardened while the rest of her went all butter soft when he looked at her. He was just another landowner, and she would conduct herself accordingly. And in the future, she’d remember to wear a padded bra.

  When he spoke again, she realized the husk in his voice was exhaustion. “Your title happens to be the epitome of inaccuracy.”

  “Roughneck is pretty inaccurate, too,” she said. “From what I can see, your neck looks…” Like I want to lick it?

  Really, Cass?

  Yes. And she seriously wasn’t sure she could deal with this man, not this way.

  “My neck looks what?” he demanded in the same tone he’d used with the men outside.

  “Not rough?” She laughed, faking a confidence that had apparently gone weak in the knees, the traitorous bitch. And now it was awkward stare-off time. Karyn’s amused presence wasn’t helping matters. Cassie hadn’t felt this intimidated in years. Maybe she was back in junior high, suddenly unable to form a sentence around a hot guy. Well, if he was going to study every inch of her, she’d reciprocate, no words needed.

  She’d never been a fan of long-haired, tatted-up guys, but this one pulled off the half ponytail without a hitch, and the ink was more like art. Tree limbs wrapped around his left shoulder, and it looked like…yeah, there was a bird…some animal, both hidden in the twisted branches. Fish and crabs and things with teeth covered his opposite arm. Dark and beautiful, the swirling images looked sexy as sin against his sweat-slicked skin. His sky-blue freaking eyes and stubble-covered jaw were too much to take in directly, and after another detailed study of his arms and chest, Cassie cleared her throat.

  The man before her swiped a forearm across his grimy brow before glancing out the open door and up at the rig. “So you found me.”

  “Listen, I know this isn’t the best time to talk, but your brother shut me down in a big way this morning—”

  Though his focus remained on the rig, a frown tightened his lips. “You went back out there?”

  “The gate was open. I went in. And yes, I had a conversation with your brother. If you can call it that.”

  Jason glanced at Karyn, who pretended to be studying a map. Then he stepped toward her, and so intense was his gaze, she wasn’t sure she could look him in the eye. “Ms. Mitchum,” he whispered, all gritty and low. “I speak for both my brother and myself when I say this. Stay off our ranch. It’s for your own good.”

  Her head shot up. “Believe it or not, I didn’t march out here in the middle of the night for my own good. This is not the way I like to conduct business. I’m not sure how to say this but…” Don’t blow this, don’t blow this… “…but your ranch could help save a life.”

  That had been a little dramatic, but he’d left her no choice. She wasn’t looking for sympathy. She just needed him to understand—

  He…he was laughing. Head thrown back and all. She wanted to smack the gorgeous right off his face.

  “How is that funny?” she hissed, all pretense of professionalism forgotten. She was fighting with everything she had and he thought it was a joke?

  “Oh, it’s not funny,” he said, meeting her gaze with an intensity that made her take a step back. “It’s not funny at all. In fact, I’m glad you understand about life and death, Ms. Mitchum.”

  The odd exchange had her heart thumping heavily in her chest. Then something dawned. “Is this about that Neely man?” she asked. “The one floating in the pond?”

  Jason Lucas quickly erased the surprise from his face. “Why would you say that?”

  She glanced at Karyn, who wasn’t even pretending to ignore them anymore. “I overheard a deputy speaking to your brother. In fact, it was the same deputy I saw on the news tonight talking about those poor people in the FedEx truck.” Surely the two weren’t connected. Drawing a shaky breath, she decided to keep pushing anyway. “What is going on around here, Mr. Lucas ?” Because something was definitely wr
ong.

  He didn’t respond immediately. And in the ensuing silence, she realized she wasn’t going to get a straightforward answer.

  “Maybe we should go,” Karyn said, breaking the silence.

  Cassie threw her hands up in an exasperated gesture and made for the door.

  “Wait,” came a booming voice that stopped her in her tracks. Her heart soared, and when she turned her stomach swirled despite the fact that Jason Lucas had just stomped her dreams into the ground. He shouldn’t be that good-looking, damn him. If the roughnecks had a God, he’d be it, and she frowned at the little flutter low in her belly.

  The man who held her override in his big grease-stained hands took another step in her direction. He stood so close she could smell drilling mud and sweat and man. She had to be every shade of red that existed, and her skin burned, despite the sub-zero temperature in the room. “I’ve got an RV in town, behind the Tee-Pee Motel.” He spoke like he was giving orders instead of directions. “It’s on the second row, all the way at the end. You’ll see me, I’ll be cooking outside.”

  “So you’re—”

  “Seven o’clock.” He turned and headed for the rig.

  “See you then,” she muttered to his back, wondering what she’d just gotten herself into.

  At the bottom step, he spun to face her. Walking backward, his eyes narrowed, and a small smile played along his lips.

  “Wear those jeans tomorrow night.”

  Chapter Four

  Jase leaned against his truck with a beer in his hand and an eye on the gravel road.

  Every slot along the Tee-Pee’s four-row RV section, located a stone’s throw from the upper Karankawa River, held not only some sort of camper, but the distinct mode of transportation preferred by its current occupants. Oil-field guys drove big flashy trucks like they were a badge, and jacked-up four-wheel drives, mostly new, mostly dusty, dwarfed Cassie’s car as it turned down the riverside row.

  In defiance of the hammering in his chest, Jase took a slow sip from his bottle before leaning back to rest both elbows on his tailgate. Three decades older than all the rest, the single-cab Custom Deluxe had been his father’s. It had been relegated to a ranch truck, then to the dusty barn. After Michael Lucas’s death, Jase had dragged the Chevy into the daylight and painted it black as night. It was the baddest ride on the row.