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The way she shrank back away from me indicated fear. Of me. Of the man she’d confessed her love to when we were both seventeen, the one who’d she promised to spend the rest of her life with.
“Don’t, Foxx. Okay?”
“Don’t what? Make this shit storm any worse, Dierdre? Make my heart race any faster? Or are you telling me to get the fuck over it?” My voice had risen by several decibels and I didn’t give a flying fuck who overheard us. When she remained quiet, I slammed my fist on the table, knocking over my beer bottle. The sound of liquid spilling over the edge of the table to the deck was a perfect backdrop for the shit that had been dumped into my lap. “How. Long.”
“Almost a year.”
Maybe I hadn’t been prepared for the truth. I glared at her, no words drifting into my mind, but I could see blood—Mark’s blood to be exact—from the bullet I wanted to put into his brain. I was a sharpshooter after all, highly skilled in killing enemies.
And I’d consider the man exactly that.
Sadly, now I had to place the only woman I’d ever love into the neat and tidy box as well. I slowly rose to my feet, the ring box still in my hand. As I backed away, she threw out her arm as if she was going to apologize then didn’t.
That was my cue to get the hell out.
But as I was preparing to walk into the main part of the restaurant, disappearing into the shadows, I stopped short, glancing at the lake to my left. And without any hesitation or concern about the money, I pitched the box into the water.
After that, I made a promise to myself.
I would never open my heart to another woman ever again.
Once in the parking lot, I pulled out my phone, dialing Hudson’s number.
“Yo, bro. Did you do the dirty deed?” he asked, the blaring music in the background almost drowning out his words.
“We’re done. Finished. Order me a bottle of beer and three shots of tequila. I’ll be right there.”
And just like that, my entire life had changed, tossed into the dumpster. Well, fuck it.
Fuck romance.
Fuck women.
Being around them was only good for one damn thing. Hard fucking.
CHAPTER 2
Thirteen years later
Foxx
Brutally savage work.
Yeah, it was something I was used to. Getting dirt under my fingernails was a requirement or I hadn’t been working hard enough. But as the sweat poured down my back and both sides of my face, I was more than a little ready to get the fuck off the oil rig my father had owned for more than half my life. Where I’d once found the entire scope of work challenging as well as fascinating, my callused hands and tight muscles an effect of the brutal working conditions, I wanted nothing to do with the frigid climate of Alaska.
Maybe using my two months off to head to a more tropical climate was in order.
The crew had even suffered a major ice storm this year, losing five hundred thousand dollars’ worth of product to boot. We should have gotten off the rig before it had nearly been torn apart, but Pops had demanded the entire crew of one hundred and fifty men stay on board, locked down for the duration of the fucking storm. We’d made it through but not without our bumps and bruises.
The much smaller second tier was coming in, mostly for maintenance work. While my father was the owner-operator of the rig, time was needed to get the aging equipment functioning to perfection before we filled the next order. At least Pops had a nose for oil, paying top dollar for the rig. I’d laughed in his face for selling the house I’d grown up in to do so, but we were finally exceeding quota.
But I was tired of the life.
Period.
The truth was I was getting too old for this line of work. Or so I liked to think. However, the fact Pops was in his early sixties and still beating the shit out of the younger riggers was a reminder the oil industry was deep-seated in my blood. My grandpappy had also owned a rig once upon a time, his life and death spent on the water.
I’d been five years old when the rig he had owned blew up from a faulty drill, several of his men also dying in the horrific tragedy. Had that slowed my father down for a blip in time? Nope. That’s how the man had instilled such a tremendous work ethic in me. Plus, I had that same sense of smell, which helped in encouraging new riggers to join the team.
