Out of Control by Stephanie Feagan Read Free Book Online

“Move back, Conaway.” I struck a match, lit the book, and tossed it as soon
     as the guy came within the circle.
    He was instantly surrounded by flames and I expected him to run out of the fire, away
     from us. Instead, he stood in the center of it, his gaze transfixed on the flames.
     He looked hypnotized. Catatonic.
    “Eew, sick. He’s a firebug,” Conaway said, standing close to me.
    I grabbed her good arm and pulled her backward, just before the fire reached the Jeep’s
     gas tank and exploded in a huge fireball.
    When the fire died back a bit, I saw Blondie on the ground, a charred, smoking body.
    Conaway gagged. “Jesus, that’s heinous.”
    “You okay, college girl?”
    “You mean, other than being shot, scratched all to hell by these demonic bushes, and
     witnessing a man’s horrible death?”
    “Are you always a sarcastic bitch, or is that bullet wound making you testy?”
    She cocked a grin at me. “No, it’s a fairly usual state for me. Unless I’m buttering
     somebody up. And hey, I saved your life back there. You owe me.”
    “Next time you’re about to die, I’m there for you.”
    She shook her head. “Screw that. Give me an interview and we’ll call it square.”
    What could I say except, “Okay, Conaway, but no questions about my family.”
    “No problem. I’m not interested in a bunch of rich white people. Been there, done
     that, have the souvenirs.”
    “Oh?” I looked at her a little more carefully. “Conaway. Hmm. Not ringing any bells.”
    Her smile was really pretty. She had perfect teeth. I suspected Leslie Conaway got
     asked out a lot.
    “Do you buy greeting cards?”
    I made the connection. “Your family owns Pinnacle Stationers?”
    “Lock, stock and barrel. We’re so rich, we pay people to eat for us.”
    “Then why are you out here?”
    Her grin faded. “Same as you. Trying to get the hell away from them.”
    It had been a very long time since I had a friend who produced estrogen, and as I
     was suddenly hit with the prospect, I realized I liked the idea. And her. “Conaway,
     you’re an idiot for running into a gunfight, but you’re okay.”
    Robichaud appeared then, striding toward us, looking less than his usual calm, controlled
     self. When he saw the body, his eyes widened and he shot me a look of astonishment.
     “You fried the guy.”
    Cash and Harley, followed closely by A.J. and Dylan the boob-squeezing derelict, burst
     through the bushes, drawing up short when they saw the Jeep. And the dead shooter.
    I kept watching the brush, waiting for Deke. When he never arrived, a deep foreboding
     washed over me. Deke would have been the first on the scene. Cutting my gaze to Robichaud,
     he read my mind and slowly shook his head. “I’m so sorry, Blair. He ran at the guy,
     and…”
    Moving around him, I took off running, my mind shouting denial. He couldn’t be dead.
     Deke was too alive, too powerful, too important to die. I tripped over low lying branches,
     rocks and casing pipe, stumbled into the well site—and almost fell across his big
     body.
    “No, no, no .”
    I dropped to my knees and gathered his head in my lap, smoothing his coarse, black
     hair, rocking him to and fro, willing him not to be dead.
    But he was dead, and no amount of prayers or promises to God could change that. My
     mind took me back over the years, remembering a thousand moments, a million laughs,
     a few soul-deep conversations. I moved my hand across his face, keeping my focus on
     his rough, hard features, ignoring his blood-sodden shirt. Deke had tried to save
     me from the shark.
    In the midst of my memories, I wondered, why? Who was behind this? The deaths and the blowouts? Did it all begin and end with Blondie?
     Gut instinct said no, that he was involved, but not the brains behind the plan. And
     what was the plan? What did they hope to gain by killing good men and causing millions of
     dollars in damage?
    Staring into the cold, quiet face of my friend, I was