Black Oil, Red Blood

Chapter 37



In spite of his obvious hurry to get out of the building, he stopped short when he saw Nash and me.

I kept walking, as though to pass him, and tried not to meet his gaze.

Dorian almost kept going, but something in my demeanor caused him to do a double-take, and I knew he’d recognized me.

Dorian whipped out his cell phone and started dialing.

Nash and I drew our guns on him.

“Put the phone down,” I commanded.

He did. I didn’t need to ask him what he was doing here. Of course he’d be on site during a public relations emergency with the client of his career.

“Chloe, are you out of your mind?”

“According to Nash, yes.”

“This is assault!” Dorian said. “I’ll have your hide for this!”

“Sure,” I said. “My boss just got killed, your client is out to get me, and the refinery is about to blow. I’m really scared right now that you might sue me.”

Dorian folded his arms and regarded me evenly. “What are you going to do? Shoot me?”

“Probably not,” I said. “But Nash might.”

Dorian glanced at Nash in alarm.

Nash shrugged. “Don’t make me,” he said.

I held out my hand. “Give me your phone,” I told Dorian.

“And do it slowly,” Nash added.

Dorian grasped his phone with two fingers and gingerly handed it over. I pocketed it.

“Now,” I said, “turn around and walk that way.” I jerked my head in the opposite direction from which he had come.

Dorian put his hands in the air, turned around, and started walking down the hall.

“No,” Nash said. “Hands down. Make it look natural.”

Dorian dropped his hands. “Just so you know, you’re going the wrong way.”

“How do you know?” I asked. “You don’t even know where we’re taking you.”

Dorian sighed impatiently. “You want out, right? This way is just going to take you back to the other side of corporate.”

“And I should believe you, why?” I asked.

“Because I loved you, once,” Dorian said.

Once. Once upon a time. Once was the key word.

Even though I had known it was over with Dorian long ago, the way Dorian had intoned the word “once” had a ring of finality to it that had been lacking in all my previous communications with him this week. We had once shared so much, but no longer. And now I knew for certain that his pretended feelings for me had been nothing more than manipulation and legal games.

I didn’t know whether it was the direness of the situation or the knowledge that the Miller case was most likely finished for lack of a client that had prompted him to drop the “I still love you” act, but I didn’t really care. Even though it hurt my ego a little to hear it, I also felt a large measure of relief. At least now, I knew exactly what I was dealing with.

“Once has nothing to do with now,” I said.

“And you think I’m holding a grudge just because you left me handcuffed to Schaeffer’s desk overnight?”

“Noooooo,” I said, in a way that clearly meant ‘yes.’

Dorian reached the end of the hallway and stopped. “Which way?” he asked. “Right is out. Left is deeper in.”

“Left,” I said.

The refinery alarm chimed again.

Dorian sighed. “Look. You don’t get it. I want out of here just as bad as you two. This place is about to blow, and unlike you, I’m not wearing any protective gear.”

I had to admit, his argument made sense. I had no reason not to believe it.

I looked at Nash. He shrugged.

“Okay, fine,” I said. “Go right. No. Actually, take me to the storage tank area.”

“That’s to the right,” Dorian said, and began walking that way.

Nash leaned over and whispered in my ear. “Are you sure about this?”

“I don’t know. What do you think?”

“It seems reasonable for him to also want to get out. The less time we spend in the hallways, the less likely we are to get caught. But you know him better than I do.”

“The question is, what are we going to do with him once we find the exit? We can’t just march him through the yard at gunpoint.”

I eyed Dorian nervously. He appeared to be nonchalantly strolling down the hall, but I knew he was straining to hear our every word.

“Did you get all that gear in a supply closet?” Nash asked.

I nodded.

“Were there respirators in there?”

I nodded again.

“If we can get him into a supply closet and stick a desk chair under the doorknob on the outside, that might give us enough time to get rid of him and get away. And if he can’t get out, he’ll have access to protective gear, which means he should be okay. It’s only a gas cloud we’re worried about, right? No fire or anything?”

“Um, I think so?” I took a deep breath. Surely Dorian would be okay. We were well into the corporate section of the building now. If there were a gas cloud, it wouldn’t be like Dorian would be stuck at ground zero. “We don’t really have a choice. I say that’s the plan.”

Dorian came to another fork in the hallway and stopped again. “Which way now?”

“What’s the fastest way back to the storage tank area?” I asked.

“Straight,” Dorian said.

I felt like I had no choice but to believe him, so I did. “Okay, go.” I waved my gun, motioning for him to move forward.

We walked this way for several minutes, with Dorian pointing the way at each turn. We had to be close. Maybe I was imagining things, but I felt like I recognized some familiar landmarks from my journey in. It was time to start looking for a supply room.

We turned one more corner, and I found one.

Nash spotted it, too. “Stop,” he said.

Dorian did.

“Open the supply room door and go in,” Nash commanded.

“Aww, come on,” Dorian said. “You’re not on board with this, are you Chloe?”

I ignored him. “You get him in, I’ll get the chair,” I told Nash, and ducked into an empty office across the hall.

I emerged from the office with a chair just in time to see Dorian disappear behind the supply room door. I rolled the chair past Nash and toward the closet.

Just as I was about to securely place the chair under the doorknob, the heavy door flew open and knocked me backwards.

The chair spiraled down the hall.

I went flying into Nash, who simultaneously caught me and popped the door back so hard that it slammed into Dorian as he was trying to escape, temporarily disorienting him.

I flung my full weight on Dorian and bulldozed him back into the supply room before he could catch his balance.

The two of us careened into a metal supply shelf, and it toppled.

Boxes of masks, suits, and various other supplies slid to the floor.

I fell on Dorian, who fell on the shelving. I heard a crack, and Dorian groaned.

I immediately rolled off Dorian, not wanting to physically touch him for longer than I had to.

It appeared that Dorian had broken some ribs, because he didn’t move. He had fallen directly on top of the edge of the shelf, which meant it could be a pretty bad break.

Or, the crack I had heard might not have been his ribs at all. It could have been caused by any number of things hitting the floor. Would it be wrong of me to hope for a bone break?

In the scuffle, I’d lost my gun.

I backed away slowly, scanning the floor for the gun. Nash stood in the doorway, covering me.

I felt guilty for having to leave Dorian like this, but what else could I do?

Dorian continued to lay across the downed shelving unit, wincing with pain.

I finally spotted my gun lying on the floor by Dorian’s hand between the shelving.

I consciously refused to look at it, for fear that I would alert Dorian to the fact that it was there.

Pretending concern, and wanting to get closer to the gun so I could pick it up, I stood and stepped back toward Dorian.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I think you broke my ribs,” he moaned.

“I’m sorry,” I said, and I think there was a small part of me that actually meant it—but only because he looked like he was in so much pain.

“Chloe, get away from him!” Nash warned. He clearly couldn’t see the gun from his angle. I had to recover it, or we’d be at a huge disadvantage.

I ignored Nash and stepped over the shelving to lean over Dorian.

Involuntarily, and despite my best intentions, I glanced at the gun. Dorian, being an expert people reader, followed my eyes and saw it too.

I lunged for it, but Dorian was closer and quicker. In a flash, he had me by the hair with the gun pointed straight at my temple.

Nash swore. “You never listen, do you?” he said.

“Let me guess,” I said to Dorian. “Your ribs aren’t really broken. Nicely played. You fooled even me.”

“About time. I was beginning to think I couldn’t win with you.” Dorian glanced at Nash. “Drop your gun, or she gets it.”

“Remember, you loved me once,” I said, feeling somewhat desperate.

“That’s before you cuffed me to a desk, threatened me at gunpoint, and tried to lock me up in a refinery that’s about to blow.”

I eyed Nash. I didn’t think Dorian would actually shoot me, but I was still going to try to get free. I wanted Nash to be alert so he could help me out if I got in a pinch, just in case.

Nash met my gaze and seemed to sense that he knew what I was about to do.

I slammed my fist into Dorian’s crotch—something I’d wanted to do ever since I’d learned he was a lying cheater. The gesture was thoroughly satisfying.

Dorian loosened his grip, and I spun away.

Nash fired off two shots in rapid succession, and a shelf that had been suspended from the ceiling dumped all its contents on Dorian’s head. Boxes of metal nuts and bolts came crashing down around us in a hard metal rain that sliced his skin as it fell.

Dorian thudded to the ground, wincing with what I knew for a fact was actual pain this time.

I stared at Nash in amazement. “Are you serious? Don’t you think you might have wanted to shoot like that when we were being chased across the open field by an unknown car?”

“I could have, if you were a better driver,” Nash said. “And anyway, you better be glad I didn’t, or Dick never would have caught up with us.”

I had been hoping Dorian would drop his gun, but he didn’t.

I decided to just leave it and make a run for the door.

I dove through, and Nash slammed the door behind me. I rushed to grab the chair and place it under the knob.

I could hear Dorian cursing bloody murder as we walked away.

I pulled the chemical suit hood over my head and replaced my mask. It was time to resume our charade.

“Give me your gun,” I told Nash.

He did, then he held out his arm, like an usher at a wedding. I took it and pointed the gun at him. We resumed our charade of captor and captive as we proceeded back down the hall toward what I hoped was our eventual exit.

I was still breathing hard from the encounter with Dorian when we rounded a corner and bumped into Fitz.