Maddy's Oasis (5 page)

"Madeleine Winters."

"Ms. Winters, this is Carlos Cortez. Joey
said you'd called about Alex's loan," said a male voice with a
thick accent.

"Yes, Mr. Cortez, thanks for returning my
call. I've been going through my colleague's accounting and
confirming debts owed. I couldn’t find any documentation aside from
a letter Alex wrote describing your services as consulting and
local brokers. He's listed the debt at five million. If you can fax
me some sort of bill, I'll transfer the money to your account
tomorrow," she said.

"Alex owed a lot of people money," Mr. Cortez
said with an edge that made her frown. "So he was lying to us about
his … funding."

"There was a hang-up with the money," she
replied, not wanting to start the rumor that the project was
financially doomed. "I'm trying to fix it, but it's going a bit
slower than I expected."

"Alex wasn't very dependable," Mr. Cortez
said. "He promised to pay for six months."

"I apologize, Mr. Cortez. I'll do my best to
fix this fast. My goal is to make things as right as I can within
the financial boundaries I have. I always pay my debts, and I'm
doing my best to be as fair as possible with the stack of unpaid
bills I was left."

There was a pause, as if he were dwelling on
her words.

"You seem like an honorable person," he said
at last. "Alex was a sleazebag. He owed most the town money. I wish
you luck in your project. You won't have any issues from me. My
accountant will fax you an itemized bill. Did Alex leave my account
info somewhere?"

She didn't understand the amusement in his
voice or his odd choice of words. As an unpaid creditor, he had
every right to hunt her down and demand the money Alex owed for
services rendered to the project. Yet she couldn't shake the sense
he wasn't entirely talking about money. She flipped open the
accounting book. Despite Alex's mess of a desk, he at least had
listed all his debtors in one place with contact information.

"I do," she said. "As soon as I receive the
fax, I can wire the money."

"Thank you, Ms. Winters."

He hung up, and she set the phone down,
unable to pinpoint what made the phone call feel so … weird. Mr.
Cortez had seemed almost surprised and then amused to hear from
her. She made a note in her notebook with the date and time they
talked, turned on the dusty fax machine, and pulled out the list of
phone numbers with all the debtors listed. Mr. Cortez had been owed
the most by far. It appeared Alex didn't pay any one debtor
everything owed; instead, he seemed to spread around the bare
minimum, probably because the project's bank account was so low.
Which made her wonder where the rest of the money went. It hadn't
gone to debtors, and it wasn't in the bank.

Almost fifty million was just … gone.

Before she could pick up the phone to start
calling other debtors, the fax machine rattled to life. The
promised bill arrived. She glanced over it and set it on her pile
of confirmed debts to pay.

When she emerged from the trailer near dinner
time, she was surprised to find the site completely empty. No
trucks were parked in the makeshift lot; not even Eric was
around.

Her first thought was that Jake had taken her
threat seriously and quit.

Panicked, she snatched her BlackBerry from
her hip. She hurried to the desk as she dialed the area code and
searched through the stacks of paper for Jake’s business card.

Jake answered on the fourth ring.

“Yeah.”

The sounds of people talking and laughing
were loud in the background.

“Jake, it’s Madeleine. You left early?”

“It’s Friday,” he responded in a voice that
said he wasn't expecting to hear from her.

“So, what? Fridays aren’t full days?”

“Fridays are limited to twelve hours.”

“I need a few more numbers from you tonight,”
she said.

“If it's important, you’re welcome to join
us,” he said with some hesitation. “We’re at Lucky’s Bar.”

At his reluctant offer, she sighed. She knew
she was driving the Texan crazy with her persistency.

"It can wait until the morning,” she said.
“I’m sorry-- a bit frustrated right now.”

“Why don’t you come by? You could use a drink
to help you relax.” His voice held a note of genuine warmth.

“No, thanks. I’ve got work to do.”

“You staying out there tonight?”

“Yes,” she replied.

“Got a gun?”

“No, of course not. I’ve heard about the wild
dogs and don’t plan on leaving the trailer.”

“More than wild dogs out there,” he said.

“It can’t be worth losing two hours of sleep
over,” she said. “I’ll be fine and see you in the morning. Are
Saturdays full days?”

“Saturday’s tequila night. We work twelve
hours and quit at six. Sunday morning work starts at ten and ends
at eight,” Jake said with a chuckle.

“All right. I’ll be here. Have a good
night.”

“Hey, call if the vandals return.”

“Yeah, thanks,” she murmured. “Good
night.”

“G’night.”

She hung up and slumped, head throbbing. She
glanced at the time and the receipts and realized she needed to put
in a good four more hours before she could consider sleeping. She
popped some painkillers and poured a cup of coffee from the coffee
pot Eric had brought that day. The stench from the bathroom seemed
stronger the more tired she was.

She sat down to crunch numbers into smaller
numbers, wondering where and how to cut corners without the
building coming down on her head.

She wasn’t sure when she fell asleep, but the
distant slam of a car door awoke her. She grimaced and straightened
from her position sleeping at the desk. Her head had rested on the
blueprints book she had yet to read. The trailer was warm, dark,
and quiet, an indication the generator powering the lights and AC
was out of gas again.

She stretched her cramped neck and rose,
exhausted. The small bathroom smelled even worse without the AC
on.

The generator was one of the mysteries she'd
figured out the first time the AC stopped and left her in the
heated tin can of a trailer. Determined not to sleep in an
uncomfortably warm trailer, she slid off her heels and padded to
the door. She exited the office, pausing on the top step to take in
the world around her.

The desert was beautiful at night with the
moon’s rays settling like magic dust atop the expanse of rocky
sand. Even the hideous construction project in front of her
glistened and appeared not quite as ugly in the gentle moonlight.
The sky was clearer than she had ever seen it, the twinkling stars
brilliant.

She relaxed, affected by the peaceful scene.
She strained her neck back to see the stars directly overhead and
closed her eyes. A cool breeze swept past her. City air had never
tasted so fresh!

She roused herself, rejuvenated by the desert
magic, and descended to the ground. Gripping the cloth-wrapped
handle of the oily gas can, she held it at arm’s length, away from
her expensive clothing, and picked her way around the trailer to
the generator.

Only upon turning the corner did she recall
what awoke her.

A car door slamming.

Or possibly, several car doors slamming.
There were five dark-hued trucks parked in the makeshift parking
lot.

Unease slid through her, and she quickly
looked around for people. Several leaned against one truck bed
angled away from her. Two were smoking, evident from their glowing
red cigarette tips. She glanced at her watch and saw it was just
past two thirty in the morning. Jake's crews were gone for the
night, probably drinking with him at the bar. He'd said nothing
about sending anyone else out.

The two smoking men shifted, and moonlight
glinted off of the long barrels of guns.

Madeleine held her breath as she backed into
the shadows of the trailer. Part of her argued that all Texans
carried guns; this could very well be some of Jake’s men, and he
forgot to tell her they'd be there. Another part of her knew he
would've come clean with her long before these men showed up. At
the very least, he'd always been honest with her. She lowered the
gas can and tiptoed around the trailer, eyes on the men at the
trucks.

The sudden movement of two more armed men
emerging from the direction of the heavy equipment and walking
toward the building made her freeze, and she waited for them to
pass a short distance away. They didn't even glance at the office
but spoke in hushed tones as they walked.

Heart pounding, she darted up the stairs and
into the office, closing the door as quietly as she could.

I can’t afford any more damage to the damn
building!

She stumbled over the brick used to prop open
the door again and stifled a curse of pain. She leaned against her
desk, toe throbbing. After snatching her phone off the far side,
she shuffled around the desk and shoved the chair away. She hit the
speed dial number for Eric as she crawled beneath the desk.

Eric’s phone rang straight to his voicemail.
Agitated, she hung up and tried again. Same response. Madeleine
hesitated before flipping through to the next to last number she
had dialed.

As before, Jake’s phone rang a full four
times before he answered.

“Yeah?” came his voice, thick with sleep.

“Jake,” she whispered.

“Hello?”

“Jake, it’s me.”

“What?”

Voices neared the trailer. She hung up and
went to text messaging.

Jake, it’s Madeleine. I’m at the site. There
are men here with guns. I don’t know who they are or what they’re
doing. Please call local authorities.

She clicked send and tucked her legs in
closer. Several long moments of silence passed before her phone
vibrated with his response.

On my way.

She gritted her teeth. The man simply could
not give her any answer she wanted! She started to tell him so when
the sound of steps on the rickety stairs sent panic spiraling
through her. She pushed the silent mode button on her phone and
pressed it against her chest to hide the light. She stilled her
breathing and waited.

The door opened, and the sound of two
heavy-footed men filled the small office.

“I’m telling you, he’s long gone,” one voice
grumbled in a thick Spanish accent.

Steps came toward her and rifled through the
papers above her head. She gripped one of her shoes, well aware of
how much pain a four-inch heel could cause. More than one woman had
demonstrated the power of a high heel on her foot in a crowded
elevator.

The second man said nothing but slung open
the door to the bathroom and one of the closets.

“Nothing here,” he stated. “C’mon.”

The shifting of paper stopped, and both feet
clomped toward the door.

“Howard sent a replacement for that rat?”

“Yeah, some girl.”

“Maybe we should pay her a visit. Maybe she's
got our money.”

The hard tone sent chills through her.
Madeleine held her breath once again, straining to hear the
response. The office door slammed closed, and the conversation
became indecipherable.

She waited a moment longer before looking
down at her phone again. A message from Jake awaited her.

U ok?

Her hands trembled as she replied.

Fine. You’re slow as usual.

She rested her head against the side of the
desk, unable to hear voices or slamming doors but unwilling to look
after the men’s last comment.

Better slow than foolish.

Jake’s response blinked onto the phone
screen.

Voices neared once more, and she tucked the
phone against her chest, waiting. Several voices lingered outside
the trailer for fifteen minutes, sometimes talking, sometimes
silent.

She inched out to ensure the light of her
phone would not shine through a window or otherwise draw attention.
The tiny windows on the office trailer were covered in cardboard to
keep the sun out during the day. She eased back under the desk and
opened Jake’s latest message.

Almost there. U ok?

Fine
, she answered.
Bringing police?
There’s a lot of them.

No problem.

The voices outside fell silent, and she
thought she heard the slam of car doors in the distance then the
grumble of several truck engines that faded as they reached the
road. All was silent for ten minutes, until she heard the approach
of another truck. Several minutes later, she heard feet once again
on the stairs. The door was slung open. The ray of a flashlight
made her tense and move away from the far edge of the desk. A dog
growled.

“Madeleine?”

She froze, too tense to recognize the voice
at first.

“You here?”

She scrambled out from under the desk.

“Jake!” she exclaimed in a whisper. “They’ll
see you! Turn off your flashlight! There must be a dozen of
them!”

As she spoke, she hurried around the desk to
cover the light.

“I brought the boys. They’ll take care of
anyone,” Jake assured her, twisting the flashlight out of her grip.
He did, however, flip it off.

“Are you sure? How many-- ”

“Enough, city-girl,” he growled, and took her
arms. “You’re shaking. You all right?”

She
was
trembling and breathing hard and
quick. Her heart tumbled around within her breast, and adrenaline
made it hard for her to focus any of her scattered
senses.

“I’m fine,” she murmured, surprised to find
herself so close to all out panicking. “I’m fine.”

“C’mon, sit down,” he ordered with none of
his usual deliberation.

She started to resist but relented as he
steered her to a couch and sat with her, close enough for their
sides to be pressed together. Jake released her arms but took her
hands, the heat and size of his comforting. In any other
circumstance, she would have moved away from him. She was not the
dependent sort; she didn't need a man to make her feel safe. Yet
she rather liked the feel of his hard, large body beside hers, of
his hands around hers. He was warm and solid and smelled of faded
aftershave, beer, and his own distinct scent. He wasn't like the
type of men she was used to dating in the city: ambitious,
self-centered, deceptive.