Stolen Secrets

Book 1 in the Deadly Secrets Texas Trilogy

Prologue

Stone listened for deadly rattlesnakes as he walked cautiously down the caliche road. It seemed to him that the snakes had been like sentries, guarding the Double C Ranch’s secrets for a hundred years.

He was sweating through his field clothes in the August heat, grateful the sun was heading toward the horizon. During the preceding week, he had traveled this route to The Old Mine Place several times. But this time he was less hesitant, more certain. He could feel the history of the land guiding him as he looked for the signs and symbols he was using to find his way. Then, he came to the spot.

Wielding the machete strapped to his belt, he hacked through the thorny mesquite bushes, picking up the broken branches and tossing them aside.

He could hear his heart beating over the buzzing cicadas as he shined his flashlight down into the darkness of the opening he’d exposed. He knelt for a closer look, and what he saw took his breath away.

As he stared deep into the ground, a bolt of agony shot through his brain. Then the force of the blow plunged him into abyssal darkness.

 

Chapter 1

Oil Companies. Sarah Chandler despised them. The nice people who brought you the Deepwater Horizon and the Valdez. Oops…sorry about that blowout preventer. Oops…sorry we ruined Alaska. It seemed like oops was their favorite word.

She had told Bobby Joe Jackson that leasing his prized hunting ranch to these jokers was a colossal mistake, no matter how big a lease bonus he got paid. But Bobby Joe wanted the cash more than he wanted to listen to his ranch manager. So here she was.

The white caliche of the ranch road was sparkling in the afternoon sun as she parked her truck even with four white pickups. One bore the White Stag Exploration logo. The other three sported the distinctive curved-horned leaping ram that was stenciled in red on every piece of Capricorn Drilling equipment. Sarah tugged on the elastic band holding her ponytail and let her hair fall down her back, adjusting it in the mirror. Satisfied, she pulled on her hard hat, climbed out of the cab, and made her way to the trailer marked with the leaping ram.

She studied the plastic sign mounted on the trailer door: Todd Tran, Tool Pusher. Just one more thing she didn’t like about the oil business—they couldn’t just call things what they were. Tran was the tool pusher, not the rig manager. In her opinion, the sign should have read Todd Tran, Creep. She took a deep breath and knocked.

A blast of refrigerated air washed away the mid-September heat as a tall man opened the door and stepped back for her to enter. Whoever he was, he was definitely an improvement over Tran. In addition to a great face, he must have been six foot five. He had a muscular build and wavy black hair. A deep bronze tan suggested he spent a lot of time outdoors. His navy blue eyes seemed to shimmer as they locked onto her. At five feet even, she felt like a Lilliputian next to him. He smiled and extended his hand.

“Ethan Tanner. I’m from White Stag’s land department. You must be Ms. Chandler. Come on in.”

Ethan had a deep Louisiana accent that was smooth as whipped butter and soft as warm chocolate. But no matter how good he looked or sounded, Sarah was not about to forget where he worked and what he stood for. She shook his hand. “That’s right. I’m the ranch manager for the Rocking J.”

Taking off her hard hat, she squeezed past him into the small trailer.

Ethan gestured to a man sitting at a Formica counter staring at his computer screen. “This is Todd Tran. He’s the pusher out here.” Tran was a rail-thin thirty-something Asian man with straight black hair hanging down his back and a wispy beard clinging to his chin. His arms were sleeved in tattoos.

Sarah smiled icily. “We’ve met.” She’d already had several run-ins with Tran. He had been strumming her last nerve since Capricorn moved the rig in. She extended her hand. “Mr. Tran.” Tran stared at her for a couple of seconds and, without saying a word, returned his gaze to his computer screen. She shrugged and turned back to Ethan.

“What happened to Roy Jeffers? I met him when the lease was signed.”

Ethan shook his head in sympathy. “Poor Roy. He got shipped off to North Dakota. I’m out of the Houston office. But until Roy gets back to civilization, I’m in charge of the Midland operation. Don’t worry, Roy got me up to speed on things before he left.”

Sarah raised her eyebrows. “I’ll bet that was an interesting conversation.”

Ethan shrugged. “He just let me know that you manage this ranch and own the one next door.”

“Correct. I own the surface of the Double C with my brother, Stone.”

Without so much as looking up, Tran said, “You need to move your truck.”

Confused, Sarah looked around. “I beg your pardon? My truck?”

The man never took his eyes off the screen. “That’s what I said.”

Sarah looked at Ethan—he seemed baffled, as well. Her truck was not visible from inside the trailer.

“I’m not following. Where do you want me to move my truck?”

Tran looked up from his work and flashed a nasty smile. “How about off my location and back to whatever eco-friendly granola-crunching commune you escaped from.”

Sarah sighed. “I’ll wait in my truck for the test to begin.” With that, she turned and headed toward the door.

The tool pusher’s voice was threatening and dark. “Just remember…drilling locations are dangerous places. Accidents happen all the time. You best watch yourself, be sure you don’t get hurt.”

Sarah whirled around and stepped toward the man. “Did you just threaten me?”

With perfect timing, Ethan slipped between them. He locked eyes with the man. The charming Louisiana drawl morphed into a steely tone. “Buddy, you do not want to go where this is headed. We clear?” Tran glared at Ethan but had the good sense to stay on his stool and keep his trap shut. Not missing a beat, Ethan turned to Sarah.

“I apologize for this. How ’bout we wait over at White Stag’s trailer until the job gets started.” He gestured for her to lead the way out.

Sarah stared at the two men and stood her ground a few beats just to make it clear she wasn’t intimidated. No one moved. Satisfied she’d made her point, she turned and stalked out of the trailer with Ethan on her heels. As she opened the door and started down the steps, Tran uttered “Bitch” under his breath. She paused and looked back at the man, then threw her hands up and kept going. Ethan grabbed his Stetson and followed.

“Great group of folks White Stag has brought out here. Who designed your landowner relations policy? Vlad the Impaler?”

“No, we couldn’t get Vlad.” Ethan shook his head sadly. “Capricorn beat us to him. Idi Amin, Genghis Kahn, Pol Pot…they were all booked up. The best poor old White Stag could do is me.”

She rolled her eyes and turned to face him. “I want it clear for the record.” She pointed at the trailer. “That man—who is apparently in charge of this rig for Capricorn Drilling—just threatened me with bodily harm and then called me a bitch. Are we clear on that so nobody’s recollection goes all wobbly later if we’re testifying about this?”

They mounted the stairs to the White Stag trailer. Ethan gave a half smile as he opened the door for Sarah. “Well, ma’am, I’m pretty clear on the bodily harm thing. I just couldn’t be sure who he was calling a bitch…you or me.”

She caught herself about to smile at his joke but reined herself in.

“Everybody’s a comedian.” As Sarah brushed past him, entering the trailer, she couldn’t help noticing his biceps through his pressed, western-cut shirt. She casually checked out the silver rodeo-champion belt buckle perched above the worn jeans that hugged his lean hips and muscular thighs. Calf-roping. Hmm.

Ethan followed her inside the trailer. He walked over to a refrigerator and extracted two bottles of cold water, offering her one. She shook her head, and he replaced one of the bottles, opening the other and taking a pull.

“Really, I’m sorry about that back there. Tran was way out of line. From what I understand, the Capricorn crowd—well, they’re a little put off over you calling White Stag’s engineering department about the way they’re running things.”

“Bobby Joe’s oil and gas lease is with White Stag. Capricorn is drilling this hole for White Stag. If we have a problem out here, I need to deal with White Stag about it.”

Ethan nodded. “Fair enough.”

“I called because I don’t believe Capricorn is complying with the Texas Water Development Board’s rules regarding the restriction of the flow of drilling fluids that could contaminate the water wells on this ranch.”

Ethan sat down at a table and gestured for her to take a seat. Sarah pulled out a chair and sat opposite him.

“Yeah. I heard about that. I talked it over the VP for Drilling Operations. He seemed satisfied that all the appropriate precautions were being taken out here.”

“Mr. Tanner, maybe you’ve seen those Burn Ban signs that are plastered all over the highway. It hasn’t rained here in seventy-eight days. I’m watering valuable livestock out of tanks fed by the wells on this ranch. Anything happens to those wells, that livestock is in serious jeopardy. Additionally, there is a luxury hunting lodge that relies on those wells. As the ranch manager, I am responsible for maintaining this property and protecting its resources, and I intend to do just that.”

Ethan nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I understand completely. I was raised on a horse farm outside of Bossier City. I could repair a windmill gearbox before I was old enough to shave. Believe me, I understand about watering stock. And I know you don’t trust any of us oil field folks any farther than you can hurl us into a strong wind, but we’re going to surprise you with what a good job we do.”

Horse farming was hard work. That certainly went a ways toward explaining the muscles and the tan. Most oil company landmen barely knew the difference between a heifer and a bull. If she had to do this, having a contact knowledgeable about ranching was a definite plus. But he still worked for an oil company…

“Well, when my client comes out and finds half a million dollars’ worth of wells contaminated so badly the water will strip the paint off his brand-new Jag, I don’t intend to tell him it’s because some guy from the land department told me not to worry my pretty little head about clear regulatory violations. And if that offends you or the charmer with the tattoos, then that’s too bad.”

“No offense taken. Except, just for the record, I don’t think you have a little head.” He smiled at his own joke.

Before she could respond, the door opened and a man wearing blue coveralls stuck his head in. “We’re about ready to start the test.”

Ethan gave the man a thumbs-up. “On our way. Thanks.” He turned to Sarah. “Let’s go see what’s down this hole.”

She gazed at Ethan’s left hand swinging casually by his side as they walked across the drilling pad, and was appalled when she found herself checking for a wedding ring. Are you out of your mind? This guy works for a damn oil company. Besides that, it always ends the same. She had sworn off that pain once and for all. Better to go it alone than live through that again.

They hadn’t taken more than a few steps when a piercing alarm blared across the location. Suddenly, roughnecks were running up the stairs toward the rig floor. The tool pusher’s trailer door flew open, and Todd Tran barreled toward the rig, knocking Sarah off her feet as he rushed past.

She heard the roaring flow of oil as she scrambled to get up. Before she could regain her footing, Ethan scooped her up in his powerful arms. Then he was running full out, away from the rig. As they reached the edge of the drilling pad, he set her on her feet and yelled over the din.

“Run! Run! Run!”

Her heart raced as adrenaline surged through her body, and black oil started falling from the sky like rain. She heard Tran yelling to for someone to shut the BOPs. Fire was their next major risk if the blowout preventers didn’t stop the flow of oil. Any spark could ignite the oil and gas that was blowing out of the hole.

Ethan yelled for her to get to her truck and get off the ranch as he turned and ran back toward the chaotic scene at the rig. As she raced away from the well, she heard a massive explosion. The ear-splitting sound of the blast echoed in her head while the force of the shock wave pushed her toward the road. The fountain of oil pouring out of the borehole and up through the derrick burst into flames.

The wind was gusting. The ranch was a tinderbox. As a spark hit a dry mesquite bush, it flamed, and the surrounding grass caught fire. In a matter of minutes, this could turn into a wildfire, endangering ranches for miles around.

Sarah grabbed her phone out of her pocket. As she ran, she dialed 911.

“We have a blowout and oil field fire at Rocking J Ranch. We need emergency responders for fire, medical and hazmat. Activate the fire emergency messaging system. We’ve got a potential wildfire.” She shouted the address and the gate combination. As she sprinted past the parking area, she was astounded to see Tran jumping into his truck and speeding away. So much for going down with the ship.

A hundred yards past where her truck was parked, she came to a sprawling metal building. She shoved the overhead door up in its tracks and made a beeline through the cavernous shed. Then she climbed into the seat of a Cat D6D dozer. While the force of the explosion had left her rattled, the vision of Logan County engulfed in a wildfire kept her going. She cranked the engine, threw the monster into gear and steered the lumbering dozer toward the blowout. Nothing mattered more than stopping the spread of the flames.

The blaze had grown considerably just in the time it had taken her to get the earthmover to the scene. She cut a swath between the flames and the surrounding grass and shrubs, to starve the fire of fuel. With each gust of wind, searing heat washed over her in waves, making it hard to breath. The oil that had rained down onto the pad before the fire began was now burning, as well. That ground fire was spreading toward two injured men who were lying unconscious on the oil-soaked pad.

As she maneuvered the dozer, she saw Ethan racing the flames to the injured men, grabbing one of them and carrying him to safety before running back to help the other victim. Once both men were clear of the fire, Ethan knelt by the first man. He ripped off his shirt and used it to apply pressure to the man’s chest. She watched as he seemed oblivious to the fire and smoke…totally intent on the injured man while seemingly unconcerned with his own safety or comfort. She couldn’t help but be impressed.

Sarah shook her head to clear it. What in the world was she thinking? Now was not the time to get distracted. She dug the blade deep into the hard ground and scooped up dirt, which she dumped onto the burning grass, smothering the blaze.

Once the grass fire was out, she began to cut a firebreak between the burning rig and the parched land surrounding it. She worked furiously, digging the blade into the rocky earth and tearing the dry grass and shrubs loose from the ground, then pushing them away from the fire.

Emergency vehicles poured down the ranch road in an ominous cloud of dust. Between the smoke from the burning oil and the dust from the traffic on the caliche road, Sarah could hardly breathe. She coughed uncontrollably, and her eyes burned and watered. She pulled her T-shirt up around her face and kept driving. A volunteer fireman waved her down and asked about the nearest stock tank. She yelled directions over the roar of the flames shooting from the wellbore. The fireman threw her a respirator before he steered the pumper toward the tank. Pulling her hair away from her face, she knotted it behind her neck so she could strap the mask across her nose and mouth. The fire crew ran their hose into the tank and started wetting down the charred grass and mesquite bushes.

Ambulances rolled in, and paramedics jumped out and began tending to the injured men. Ethan seemed to be taking charge of the paramedics, directing them to various men as he rummaged through their cases.

More fire trucks were arriving from surrounding towns. Sarah realized that all of these vehicles must have come through the main ranch gate. That meant that the gate could still be open, putting her client’s livestock at risk.

As soon as she finished clearing the twenty-foot perimeter around the pad, she jumped into her truck and sped to the gate. Sure enough, it was wide open. Blocking the gate with her pickup, she reached for her phone, but it wasn’t in her pocket. Heaven only knew when she had dropped it… No time to worry about that now. She grabbed the radio mic from her dash.

“Attention all ranch hands. There is an oil field fire in the south pasture of the J. I need the dozer and an operator from the C, and I need another operator for the dozer we’ve got here. We’re going to need cowboys on horseback to move stock. Bring over my horse and the dogs. I don’t have a cell with me. I can only be contacted by radio. Move it, guys. We’re in trouble.”

She heard a chorus of Yes, ma’ams and On my ways crackling through the radio.

Volunteers from surrounding ranches were responding to the emergency messaging system, arriving to help. Some came on horseback. Others were driving their own earthmoving equipment. One of her ranch hands pulled up in a trailer with her horse and dogs. She mounted the horse, and she and her dogs joined the cowboys to move the livestock to safety.

As she spurred her horse, Sarah caught a glimpse of Ethan as he helped load the stretcher bearing an injured roughneck into a waiting ambulance. Then he climbed in himself, drawing the doors shut behind him as the wagon sped off down the ranch road. Ethan had risked his own life to save the two fallen men, had taken charge of the emergency medical efforts, and now he was accompanying one of the injured men in the ambulance. What is an oil company landman doing providing emergency medical treatment?

Riding into the setting sun, Sarah realized there was a lot more to Ethan Tanner than first met the eye—and there was plenty to meet the eye. He’d told her he was going to surprise her…and, so far, he had.

Find out what happens next…