Page 76 of Rugged and Filthy

And as I’d experienced how many times in such a short period of time? I shivered to my explosive core.

Now I was ready to fight for the rest of my life. For my son. For myself. And for the men I hoped would stay right by my side.

Forever.

CHAPTER 21

Foxx

The redhead was never far from my mind.

She’d shocked the shit out of the three of us with her sudden turnaround, acting as if she’d do anything it took to move into the future. I was impressed.

Too bad I was still leery of everything.

Something was off that not one of us could put our fingers on, but I had a feeling another crushing blow or five would rear its ugly head soon. I also couldn’t get the thought out of my mind that my father knew more than he was willing to admit. Why? It certainly wasn’t about protecting me. That wasn’t the kind of man he was. How many times had I almost dialed his number, demanding he tell me in vivid details what the fuck was going on?

Maybe I was the coward.

I gritted my teeth, glancing up at the darkening sky. The clouds were far too ominous, the bright sun giving way to malevolent shadows over an hour before. And everyone was still scurrying around, trying to ascertain if the rig we were standing on was nothing but rusted steel. Thirty million dollars. Chump change for a man like Madden Byrne.

Then what was nagging the shit out of me?

Unless he was ready to slide into the United States with both barrels. Did he not get how many crime syndicates were located in the States?

I had to know what we were dealing with. That’s why when I’d contacted my uncle, something I hadn’t done in four plus years, I’d left a message for a change.

The day had already been long and far too arduous. I’d found the men in her employ surly fucks, but at least they seemed to know what they were doing. The rig itself wasn’t a prize to say the least, but it did have good bones.

What Hudson had said to Rylee had surprised the hell out of Jack and me, but it had really affected the Irish filly. Since showing us to the meager quarters, she’d kept mostly to herself and wasn’t talking, which was shocking in and of itself. She was never quiet. Never.

Always feisty. Sometimes a pain in the ass. And usually sexy as hell in her blatant defiance and refusal to follow rules, but quiet? Not even a little bit. Why did I have a feeling something else had occurred after I’d left? Had Madden threatened her? Had Declan hassled her? I would need to confront her and I’d do what it took to get the truth out of her.

One way or the other.

I’d had a chat with the boys, figuring out a plan of action.

Now Hudson was tearing over the books, forming opinions on the financials, and judging the possibility of increasing the numbers of oil barrels while Jack was working with Cormac checking the various mechanical aspects. Thankfully, the internet was damn good given Sean O’Rourke had spent money on a satellite, which was necessary on an offshore rig. He’d put some money and thought into the purchase. At least that added some comfort to the tedious environment.

However, I wasn’t certain it would be enough.

When my phone rang, I headed toward one of the buildings mostly to remain out of earshot range to anyone. Thankfully, the satellite hadn’t been affected by the changing weather pattern, the connection decent enough to take a phone call.

“Rex.” I hadn’t called him my uncle since my father had forbidden it fucking twenty-five years before.

“Surprise. Surprise. I have a nephew. Your call intrigued me. Now, you’re interested in learning about the Irish mob. What happened to the boy who tried to throw battery acid in my face when I offered him a way out of working alongside his father on a pig shit rig?”

“Can we cut the crap? Pops might not be the most loving man in the world, but he’s done right by me and everyone else he knows. I’m no criminal, Rex. I have no desire to be a thug with brutal savages.”

“Then why are you calling me?”

I scanned the deck, noticing Cormac watching me intently. “Do you know a man by the name of Madden Byrne?”

When he sucked in his breath, I could easily tell he did. “What are your dealings with him?”

“Let’s just say he’s attempting to extort a family in Ireland out of an oil rig. I want to know if the bastards you employ are working with him.”

The silence was fascinating, not something I remembered as being a trait my uncle ever presented. “It shouldn’t matter to you.”

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