“Monopolies are frowned upon.”
“We won’t be a monopoly for long. We’ll be the trendsetters.” Hunter sat forward. “Consider the phone in your pocket. The first cellular concepts were nothing more than ham radios . . . devices used in war and eighteen-wheelers. Eventually Motorola expanded the concept, and within a decade, others emerged . . . then came analog, digital . . . Bell held the monopoly . . . but not forever. US pipelines are the future in US oil, Adams. We both know it.”
“It’s risky.”
“Life is risky.”
Frank sat back and Gabi soaked in her husband at work.
“I want another ten percent,” Frank said.
“I’m putting up the capital.”
Frank shrugged. “You need me or you wouldn’t be sitting here. I need to protect my family. If I give you controlling interest, there is nothing keeping you from kicking me and my people to the Gulf. I want a merger, Blackwell . . . not an acquisition.”
Under the table, Gabi noticed Hunter fisting his hand and relaxing it. This was obviously not his plan.
Unable to help herself, Gabi interjected, “What are you willing to do for that extra ten percent, Frank?”
He offered a placating smile. One that irked her, but she didn’t call him on it.
She met Frank’s eyes and held them until he flinched.
“I have connections here in Texas, other oilmen who can be persuaded to hook up early on . . . lay down the infrastructure to deliver to the main pipe.”
“You’ve already told me that,” Hunter reminded him.
“I know politicians . . .”
“So do I.” Hunter glared.
Gabi let her thoughts run. “I would think pipelines . . . along with production, is the perfect plan for the future of our country. My guess is Carter would back a solid direction to remove our demand on foreign oil. And if I’m not mistaken, Carter has an uncle who’s in the Senate.” She was musing out loud, and captured the attention of all those at the table.
“What are you rambling about?” Frank asked.
Gabi directed her attention to Hunter. “Samantha is great friends with Carter and Eliza Billings. He recently left the governor’s seat in California. Word on the Republican block is he might be running for the White House in six years.”
“Might and could? Words that don’t mean anything to me,” Frank managed.
Hunter sat forward again. “The point my wife is making, Frank, is simple. You know people . . . we know people . . . the difference is I have the capital to push this forward and start buying the land and all the rights. My reach is farther than yours.”
“Without me you have nothing.”
With a game face, Hunter said, “Without you . . . it will take longer.”
The table went silent.
“I need to protect my family,” Frank finally said.
Hunter sat back, inched closer to Gabi, and placed a hand on the back of her seat. “I understand that. Ten percent is steep. We can have our lawyers renegotiate the numbers until we’re both happy.”
Was this one of the reasons Hunter needed a wife? Was the ploy of understanding family his only goal?
If it was . . . how much money was the pipeline worth?
The question would wait.
The waiter was refilling their coffee when Hunter removed his phone from the inside pocket of his jacket and glanced at the screen.
The agreeable expression on his face fell, and within five minutes he was wrapping up their time together.
“I will have my team call yours on Monday,” Hunter told Frank as he signaled the waiter.
“In a hurry all of a sudden?” Frank asked.
Yeah, something on the phone had pulled him far from Dallas.
When Hunter hesitated, Gabi lifted her napkin from her lap and laid her hand on top of his. With a practiced smile, she leaned in. “Forgive us. We are still newlyweds and Hunter has had to spend the week in New York while I’ve been stuck in LA.”
Minnie nudged her husband and offered a knowing grin. “You two go along then. We’ll take care of the bill.”
Hunter was already removing his credit card and handing it over.
While they waited for the credit to go through, Minnie asked. “How did you two meet?”
Hunter turned to her.
“At Starbucks,” Gabi said.
“Really? What are the chances of that?”
Hunter lifted her hand and kissed her fingers. “Really high, if you drink coffee.”
Hunter’s head was buzzing with an approaching headache. He and Gabi rode in relative silence since leaving the restaurant. There were so many conversations he needed to have with her . . . none of which needed to begin in the back of a limousine.
“Where are you?” Gabi asked.
Good question. “Want the truth?”
“Do you even have to ask?”
He took a fortifying breath. “Somewhere between truth and redemption and purgatory and hell.”
“That’s quite a long road.”