Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

LOGAN

A s Mira stormed out in a huff, I watched her go, once again checking out that full, round butt before she disappeared and shut the door behind her. I had no idea what had crawled up that ass, but as sexy as it was, she'd had a real attitude about her since I'd arrived.

I sighed as I turned back to Slate, wondering what his sister's problem was. It had been as much of a shock for me to see her here as it'd obviously been for her, but the difference was that my shock hadn't turned into unexplained anger.

Slate shot me an apologetic smile. "Don't mind her. She doesn't do well with change. Mira likes routine and you being here is definitely not part of our routine."

"Yeah, I got that part." I slid my hand into the inner pocket of my jacket and pulled out a flask. "Have a drink with me?"

He laughed. "I never drink on a rig. Nobody does, and if there is actually liquor in it, I suggest you pour it into the ocean."

"Why?" I asked honestly. "It's just a flask. It's hardly going to get me hammered."

"There's too much that could go wrong," he explained, his eyes narrowing a little when I kept the flask in my hand. "If things go sideways, they escalate quickly. You have to be ready to act and you need to be in tip-top shape physically as well as mentally. You can't be impaired in any way at all."

I grumbled and slid the flask back into my pocket. Now, I really had a bone to pick with Jude. "Fine. If there's no alcohol whatsoever, how do people pass the time out here?"

"They work," Slate said simply. "You're part of a billion businesses, Logan. Did you do any research before you bought this thing?"

I shrugged. "I bought it off a trusted friend. It's making a nice profit, and I doubt the oil industry is going to bust anytime soon, so it seemed like a wise investment. I'm just here to get eyes on what exactly I invested in, is all."

To my surprise, my friend suddenly seemed a bit put off. "I understand why you came here, but now that you have, you need to take what we do here seriously. And that means not drinking, following the rules, and staying out of the way."

"I already said I would follow the rules." I lifted my hands. "Lighten up, Slate. Seriously."

He sighed, pushing his hands through his dark brown hair before he looked back at me. "If I lighten up about any of that, people will get hurt. A rig isn't a place for fun and games."

"But there's a games room."

He rolled his eyes at me as he leaned back in his chair. "Yes, for entertainment purposes when the workers aren't on shift. Even while they're there though, they stay sharp. You have to when you're out here."

I flicked my gaze toward the tiny window in his office, seeing nothing but gray skies outside. Then I took a look around, noticing that there really wasn't much to look at. The space was small and tight, with a desk bolted down, three chairs in total, and a few cabinets that seemed to have been built into the structure.

That was it.

It was definitely no frills, but it was also functional and I supposed that was all that mattered. "Look, I know you think I didn't do my due diligence and both you and your sister seem to believe that I came out here to turn everything on its head. That's just not true."

"No, I know. I don't think you came to turn everything on its head, but you might do that just by being here." He brought his bright green eyes to mine. "These guys go through a lot, Logan. For starters, they work grueling twelve-hour shifts, during which they can't afford to lose concentration for even a minute. They spend either weeks or months at a time away from their families depending on the job they do, and when they get back to shore, there are almost always environmental protesters waiting at the docks to make them feel like shit about the way they earn their living."

I listened carefully, not interrupting him as he went on. "Added to that, there's constant pressure on them to do everything exactly right, but even if they do, accidents happen. We do our best to minimize the risks, but even then, there's no way to eliminate them completely."

"Twelve-hour shifts?" I let out a low whistle. "Wow. That's rough. I mean, I often work more hours a day than that, but it's not physical work obviously. Is there a way to reduce that?"

He shrugged. "Not a viable way. It's the industry standard for a reason, but I didn't tell you about it because I think it needs changing. I told you because you need to understand that these people work damn hard, and then, when something happens like the owner selling and everyone faces losing their jobs, it's demoralizing in the extreme."

I didn't respond immediately. The fact of the matter was that I'd bought this thing a year ago and I hadn't been out yet, which means their fears about my presence weren't unreasonable. They'd also made it pretty clear to me that there was no love lost between the actual workers and the corporate owner.

I was the suit. The money. I didn't have to like being seen that way for it to be true. "Okay, I'm learning. Tell me about the production platform. Do you really not want me going over there?"

As I asked the question, I got up and walked over to that little window I'd seen before, looking out of it and across the platform bridge which was currently being battered by wind and rain. "It seems to me that's the place I have to be in order to see how all this works. "

Slate came to stand next to me, a grim look on his face when he glanced up at the sky. "I can tell you how it works and maybe, once the weather clears up, we can talk about a quick tour, but until then, yes. I meant what I said. You should stay off that platform."

"So it's like the Badlands in the Lion King," I joked. "You got it, Mufasa. I must never go to the dark, shadowy place."

"Good," he said quietly, returning to his desk and motioning for me to join him. "With that settled, maybe we should go back a little bit. We seem to have skipped right to the hairy stuff, but it really is good to see you. It's been way too long. How have you been?"

"Me? I've been great. Always. You know this about me." I pumped my eyebrows at him, grinning as I sat down. "You? It seems to be pretty intense out here, yet I don't seem to recall you leaving the rig very often."

As a consultant in my company's employ, Slate's contract stipulated that we had to receive notice if he wasn't going to be on his post, but I didn't remember ever seeing said notice in my inbox. He chuckled as he inclined his head at me.

"Mira and I like to keep on top of things."

"I get that, but isn't it also dangerous not to take any breaks?"

He shrugged. "We take breaks. Just not at the same time, or very often, and we don't like to go very far. When we're on a job, it becomes our lives. It's an occupational hazard, but we don't mind it. We prefer being here and in the loop."

I frowned at him, really looking at one of my oldest friends for the first time since I'd arrived. Slate was a tall guy, about as tall as I was at six foot two, and he was built like a house. Not in that obnoxious gym-bunny way, but in a much more real sense that made it obvious even to me that he had built those muscles by actually using them.

With dark chocolate brown hair that still didn't have a single strand of gray in it and clear, vivid green eyes that were starting to get a few faint lines around them, he didn't seem that much older than the last time I saw him. But he definitely looked a lot more exhausted.

He was as deeply tanned as his sister—who, as it turned out, I had been right about not getting her tan by lounging next to a pool—but there was still something slightly haggard about him. On the other hand, considering the stress he faced on a daily basis, I supposed exhaustion was practically part of his job description.

"How is business?" I asked carefully, wondering if perhaps it was time to set him up with one of the recruitment specialists I dealt with.

If he needed help, I was confident that they'd be able to match him up with the right candidates. Slate, however, simply shrugged a shoulder and grinned. "Business is great. Since Mira and I took over from the old man, we've been taking on more new clients than ever before and a lot of it is research and opinion based, so we can do it from here."

Well, that explains the exhaustion on a whole new level. "So let me get this straight. You're working on this rig, but then when you're not busy with everything it throws at you, you're also consulting for other clients?"

"Yep. Like I said. Around here, we work to pass the time."

I blinked at him. "And I thought I was a workaholic. I'm officially worried about you, man."

"Don't be." He laughed and gave me a pointed look. "Enough about me. Let's talk about you. I've heard you've become a bit of a jetsetter. What's that all about, huh?"

"Your occupation has its hazards, and mine has its own. The difference, however, is that when I have to travel for work, I always try to stay a few more days to unwind a little before I head back home."

"And by unwind a little, you mean you party a lot and sleep with anything that has legs to open?"

I smirked at him. "Jealous?"

"No." He scoffed. "I'm happy things are going well for you, but maybe I'm the one who should be worried. It's not healthy to work all the time, but what you're doing isn't exactly healthy either."

"Nah, it's fine. I'm careful, but I also have my fun whenever I can. It's a fine line, but I like to think I keep a good balance."

"Balance." He snorted, chuckling as he shook his head. "Now that's something I definitely don't have. "

"Exactly my point," I said. "Have you slowed down at all since you guys took over?"

"Slowed down?" He cocked both eyebrows at me. "I'm not even sure we know what that means anymore, but this is crunch-time for us. It's make or break. When Dad first retired, we had to prove that we have what it takes, and now, we have to prove that we can keep the momentum going."

"But it's been a few years." I couldn't recall exactly when their father had retired, but I knew it'd been at least that long. "At this point, I'm sure you've proved everything you needed to prove."

"Maybe, but again, we're still building. This isn't the time to slow down."

"If not now, then when?" I countered, thinking back to how supremely focused Slate had been even back in college. "If you want my advice, you need to chill out a bit and spend some time with your feet on the ground. Real ground. In fact, I insist on it. Get away from all these guys with grease under their fingernails and share a nice dinner with a beautiful woman."

He grunted, not seeming at all interested in any of what I had just said. Unable to resist, I leaned forward and grinned at him. "Speaking of beautiful women, you never mentioned that your sister was?—"

"Don't," Slate warned in a low growl, his eyes narrowing as he stared me down.

I laughed. "Fine, I won't, but it is what it is."

He sighed, his features smoothing out again as he nodded. "Tell me about it. At least Mira has a good head on her shoulders and she knows better than to give in to these savages."

"Now suddenly, they're savages. Weren't you just telling me five minutes ago that they were all such good men?"

Laughing as he flipped me off, he leaned back in his chair and exhaled deeply. "Trust me, if she gave an inch, they would be savages. Now back to you. Tell me about all these exotic places you've been traveling to for work ."

As I launched into a detailed description of what I'd been up to while I traveled, I couldn't keep a mental image of Mira's naked body spread out on my dining table out of my mind. So many of the things I'd learned about her that night suddenly made so much more sense to me now that I knew what she did for a living.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to see that she'd earned respect on the rig, and all of it combined made me so much more intrigued by the woman that I was already wondering if I counted as one of those savages now that I was out here—or if maybe, she and I could pass some of the time over the next three days together.