On Thin Ice. Debra Brown Lee

going with you.” Lauren handed the sample bag back to Bulldog.

      Pinkie turned on her. “Salvio says no one who ain’t needed is supposed to come up there—geologists included.”

      “What?” Lauren’s mouth gaped.

      That figured, Seth thought. And it made sense. You didn’t want too many people around distracting the drilling crew. He’d been more than distracted himself the past twenty minutes.

      “Salvio put me in charge a-makin’ sure.” Pinkie flashed a hardened look at her. “Know what I mean?”

      Seth had had enough of these two. “Get going.” Oil field hierarchy, punctuated by the fact that Seth was bigger than both of them, insured their compliance.

      Pinkie smirked, then nodded at his partner. Bulldog zipped the sample bag closed and tossed it into an open box beside the mud vat. Seth followed them both out onto the catwalk.

      “Damn split-tails,” Pinkie said, to no one in particular. “Women shouldn’t be out here, if ya ask me.”

      Lauren stood there, face flushed, her whisky-brown eyes flashing anger, as she watched the two of them jog up the metal staircase toward the drilling floor.

      “Ignore him,” Seth said. “He’s an idiot.”

      “If he’s assigned to sample collection I’ve got to work with him, now don’t I?”

      “Yeah, I guess you do.” The thought bothered him more than it should have. Seth nodded at the samples in the box. “What’s up with those rocks anyway?”

      She shook off her foul temperament and turned her attention on the box. “You wouldn’t understand.”

      She’d be right, if Seth was who he was supposed to be—just another roughneck working another job. If he was smart, he’d stick to that role. But years ago, in college, he’d taken an introductory geology course along with a handful of other science classes needed to fulfill his degree requirement. In the end, his pride got the better of him. “Try me.”

      She looked at him for a cool moment that seemed longer than a winter in Kachelik. Hell, what was she doing, sizing up his intellect? His ex used to do that all the time.

      “Forget it,” he said, and started for the catwalk.

      “No, wait.” She grabbed his arm. “I—I’m sorry. It’s just that so few people are ever interested in my work. It surprised me, is all.”

      He shrugged, annoyed at himself for letting her get to him.

      “Come on.” She pulled him toward the open box of samples.

      The machinery noise was so loud, he had to invade her personal space so he could hear her. At least that’s what he told himself as he edged close enough to her to catch the lingering scent of shampoo in her hair. He knew being this close to her was dangerous. He couldn’t think straight, couldn’t focus. Come on, Adams, get a grip.

      “These are totally normal,” she said, snapping him back to the topic. “Exactly what I’d expect to see at this location and this depth.” She snatched one of the sample bags from the box and handed it to him.

      He pulled off his glove and squished the heavy plastic between his fingers, squinting in the bad overhead light, studying the grayish-brown rock chips floating in mud. “Shale, right?”

      “That’s right.” She smiled at him. “That’s exactly what we should be seeing at this point.”

      “So, what’s the problem?”

      “That’s not what’s in the samples that were waiting in the crate outside the lab when I arrived.”

      “You mean the ones I saw you looking at last night?”

      Their gazes locked, and for the barest second he knew she was remembering what had happened between them in the trailer. Their embrace, the delicate kisses he’d brushed across her temple and her hair. The recognition in her eyes told him she knew he was thinking about it, too.

      She snatched the bag from his hand and broke the spell. “Um, yes.” Her cheeks flushed with color. Clearly, she was uncomfortable with the bit of spontaneous intimacy they’d shared last night.

      He was uncomfortable with it, too. Damned uncomfortable. But he was determined to get close to her. Close enough to learn her secrets—exactly what information she was selling, and how. She’d responded to him last night, and whether it was all an act or not didn’t matter.

      For whatever reason, Lauren Fotheringay wanted him on her side, as an ally. Maybe more than that, given the way she stole a glance at him when she thought he wasn’t looking. That’s exactly what he’d become, then. Another dumb, unsuspecting primate she could use for her own purpose.

      It couldn’t be more perfect. Once he proved to her she could trust him, he’d be able to glean the facts he’d need to collar her and her cronies here in the field, and anyone else in on the scheme back at Tiger Petroleum.

      Time to move in for the kill.

      “If there’s anything I can help you with,” he said, drawing her gaze back to his, “let me know.”

      “Thanks.” She smiled again, and this time he marveled at how genuine it seemed.

      Looking at her standing there in her field clothes, her expression open, eyes wide and trusting, he could almost believe she was innocent. That she knew nothing about Paddy’s murder or the illegal peddling of information worth millions to the right buyer. He wanted to believe it. More than anything.

      Watch your step, Adams.

      She tossed the sample bag back into the box and slid past him, pausing at the catwalk. “See you later?” It was more than a question. Her eyes held a subtle plea.

      “Yeah,” he said, and forced a smile. “Later.”

      As he turned toward the metal staircase leading up to the drilling floor, he saw Jack Salvio leaning casually against the railing at the top, watching them. Lauren saw him, too. Salvio flashed her a hard look, then waved Seth up to the floor.

      Time to go to work.

      Chapter 5

      The rhythmic whomp of chopper blades ripped her from an uneasy sleep. Lauren sat up in the hard, single bed and blinked her eyes open to pitch-black. “Oh, right.”

      Before she’d gone to sleep last night, she’d drawn the blackout shades in the trailer’s tiny bedroom. Not that it was necessary in the dead of an arctic winter when darkness prevailed twenty-plus hours a day.

      She checked the glow-in-the-dark hands of her watch. 2:40 a.m. Great. She’d never get back to sleep now. Why had she dreamt of a helicopter? In this weather, it was the last thing—

      Wait! There it was again. She scrambled out of bed and ripped the Velcro-lashed drape away from the window. The harsh yard lights made her squint. She blinked a few times, to make sure she was seeing what she thought she was seeing.

      Absolutely nothing.

      No blowing snow. Not a breath of wind, in fact. The yard between her trailer and the drilling rig and the rest of the camp was perfectly still. Then she heard it again. She hadn’t been dreaming. From this vantage point she couldn’t see the chopper pad lying out beyond the camp, but her ears told her everything she needed to know.

      Someone was here. Thank God!

      She flipped on the overhead light and snatched a pair of jeans and a T-shirt from the pile of clothes she’d unpacked last night. If the weather had cleared long enough for a chopper to get in, maybe she could get word to her boss. Let Bill know what had happened to Paddy O’Connor, about the faulty computer system and those strange rock samples she’d found outside her trailer when she’d arrived.

      Not bothering to wash her face or run a comb through