“You’re such a jerk,” laughed Sadie. She shook her head, tears coming to her eyes. “I love you both so much. I really hope you stay.”
“We love you, too, Sadie,” smiled Patrick. “We’re thinking on it.”
“Gotta find a good southern girl,” smiled Ham.
“I don’t have to do anything,” said Christopher. “Besides, we have plenty of time to find a girl if we want one.” There was a low rumbling of laughter throughout the jet. Chief turned to his friend and grinned.
“Brother, haven’t you figured it out yet?”
“Figured what out?” frowned Christopher.
“You don’t find her. She finds you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The Beverly Hilton Hotel was a seventy-five-year-old hotel that made guests feel as if they were walking into old Hollywood glamor and bygone days of movie stars and crooners. Its location allowed visitors to spend their fortunes on Rodeo Drive or visit the nearby sites of the rich and famous.
Unfortunately, that was not what the men of VG were doing at the hotel. They were waiting for Davis Myer in the rooftop restaurant. Seated outside, they had wide vistas of the Hollywood hills and the city below.
“Too many fucking people and houses,” growled Magnus.
“Some people love this,” said Remy. “Ain’t for me, but we know I’m just a country boy at heart. You boys need to act the same.”
“We got it,” smirked Cade. “I know how to be a redneck when I need to be.”
“Roughneck. Not redneck. Big difference,” laughed Remy.
The men all wore rough, torn jeans with work boots that had seen better days. Bodhi wore a long-sleeved, tight-fitting George Strait t-shirt, and the others wore well-worn plaid shirts, the sleeves rolled to their elbows.
“Is this a good idea?” asked Cade. The other men stared inquisitively at him. “I mean, we’re meeting this guy on the top floor of the hotel. If he pisses us off, this could end badly.”
“Just control your temper,” smirked Remy. Bodhi stared down at his coffee and signed against the table.
“I believe he just walked in with two men.”
Myer and two large men walked toward their table. Although the bodyguards were well-built, they were about to be dwarfed by Bodhi, Cade, and Magnus.
“Gentlemen. I believe you’re waiting for me,” smiled Myer. All four slowly stood from the table, and Myer stared up and up and up, his bodyguards doing the same.
“Pleasure,” grinned Remy. “I’m Remy Vernon. These are a few of my boys from the rig. Bodhi, Cade, and Magnus.”
“You feed them something special or just any raptor that’s available?” smirked Myer. None of the men even broke a grin, staring at one another as if missing the joke. “Never mind. Humor takes tremendous intelligence.”
“Can I kill him?” whispered Bodhi to his brother, Cade. Cade shook his head as the other men stared at them.
“Uh, Bodhi, we can hear you, and Cam says you can’t kill him. Not yet.”
“Damn,” muttered Bodhi.
“Shall we git down to business,” smiled Remy. “Heard from the boss you wanna talk about drillin’ out in the Pacific.”
“That’s right,” smiled Myer. “I’ve found a geothermal area near Micronesia that should produce enough oil to keep fifteen countries going for at least the next hundred years.”
“Is that right?” nodded Remy. “You did all yer tests? Got the results back? Checked seismic activity?” Myer frowned at the man.
“Not yet,” he snapped. “I’ll take care of that.”
“Actually, we would take care of that,” said Remy. “Gotta make sure we dot all the ‘i’s’ and cross all the ‘t’s.’ You know how the government can be.”
