“Your contracting agent?”
“That’s right. They’re offering a settlement, to me and the other hostages, for the gaps in security that allowed us to be kidnapped in the first place. Marie—who is now one of my favorite people in the entire world—discovered during the digging she was doing for the Associated Press that my contract guaranteed a certain level of security, teams and the like, while I was stationed in Nigeria. You know how we all have insurance policies? Owned by the company and the life insurance we pay into? Well the life insurance policy is contingent on the security protocols being followed.”
Now I was not-quite frowning. “I didn’t know that.”
“I just found out. Our life insurance was cancelled last week. Forfeit.”
My mouth fell open and I struggled to speak for a moment before blurting, “How can they do that? It’s a whole life insurance policy, that money is ours.”
“No, my darling. It was ours, as long as Nautical Oil was providing the security they’d promised. Since they didn’t, and I was kidnapped as a result, the whole life policy was forfeit. Which brings us to the settlement.” Greg pulled my legs over his lap, his fingers inching higher on my thighs.
“Okay . . . ?” I finished removing my leggings and straddled him—since I knew that’s what he really wanted—and dipped my head to the side in a questioning movement. “They want to make a settlement?”
He nodded. “That’s right, obviously for the entire amount of the whole life insurance policy, plus a tidy sum for pain and suffering.”
“How much?”
“Not enough to build a throne of money,” he mock-scowled, “more like a kitchen chair of money. Not enough that we can live quite comfortably, as long as we invest wisely.”
My immediate reaction, before giving the matter any thought, was ecstatic enthusiasm. Greg would be home more. He’d have more freedom to pick the assignments he wanted rather than accepting dangerous assignments for increased money.
This was excellent news, just as long as . . .
“Will you let me? Invest the money wisely?”
Greg gathered a large inhale, studying my features, and then gave me a quick kiss. “I’ve been thinking on that, the retirement and such, and I see now that you were right. After . . . everything that’s happened, I see that it has been a huge effort and time-drain for you. I signed the papers and sent them into Mr. Jackson yesterday.”
I was surprised, and relieved, and feeling all manner of warm feelings for my husband. “You did?”
He nodded once. “Yes. Though, if we accept this money, this settlement, I’d like to work with Mr. Jackson on picking the fund portfolios—not because I don’t trust you, but because I don’t want you to waste your time playing monkey-in-the-middle anymore.”
“Thank you.” I pressed another quick kiss to his lips. “That actually sounds really good to me.”
He eyeballed me for a long moment, sighed, and flexed his fingers on my thighs. “Fe, if we accept this settlement then I won’t be able to work as a petroleum engineer for at least ten years.”
“You mean you won’t have to work anymore.”
“No.” He shook his head. “No, it means I would be disallowed from accepting work—contract or full-time or consulting—as a petroleum engineer from any publicly traded competitor of Nautical Oil for the period of ten years. It’s stipulated in the settlement. I might get a job doing something else, but all the major oil firms are publicly traded. And it’s unlikely Nautical Oil would hire me either.”
Stunned, I gaped at Greg.
But after my mind was able to move past my surprise, the first word I thought and said was, “No.”
“Fe—”
“No. Absolutely not. No. Tell them no. We’ll sue them instead, then you can work for whoever you want and we’ll get the money.”
“No, we won’t. We wouldn’t get the money, at least not nearly as much. And it would take years, and be stressful, and time-consuming.”
I wanted to argue, but I didn’t. Instead I studied my husband. Really looked at him, and saw how bone-deep fatigued he was. I knew Greg wasn’t infallible—Lord, I knew that—but part of me had always assumed he was indestructible. He was my superhero, a much more sarcastic version of Captain America, larger than life, able to withstand any test or burden.
I’d seen him tired before, exhausted after pulling weeks of sixteen-hour shifts on an oil rig and traveling over twenty-four hours to make it home, but he’d never looked resigned. He’d never before looked like he wanted to settle.
“I miss you, my darling.” His eyes—drowsy and anxious—caressed my features, his hands rubbing circles on my thighs. “I miss you, and Grace, and Jack. And I’m tired. Maybe I’ll regret taking the settlement a few years from now . . . but I doubt it.”
“Greg, I don’t want you to give up this part of yourself. You make a difference in the world, you—”