The Rig 3: Eye of the Hurricane Read Online Free Page B

one thing that was giving her confidence at that moment. She was a Texas girl, born and raised a few miles outside Harlingen. The handling of guns was part of her DNA and it was the one thing she felt she could hold onto now. Her belief in the authorities had been shattered by the things that had happened that day. Wes had shown her how so much of what she had been led to believe had been a load of horse manure and she felt she could not even believe in herself right now. So she trusted in the presence and the ability of the Smith and Wesson that was in her hands.
    Dave's military training had the opposite effect. All his adult life he had been told to follow orders, yes, but more than that he had been trained to follow his instincts and to find out his own mind. Like most ex-soldiers, he had also developed a healthy mistrust of any form of authority. His peers on the rig had always seen him as a conspiracy theorist, a bit of a looney case. Everyone apart from the Irish bartender, Cillian. He wondered whether the Irishman was still alive. He hoped he was, the man was great company and had been even before ‘The City’. The Irish pub had been on a floor above the Plaza. If Cillian had been by his bar, he would probably have escaped the blast.
    “Where are we going?” Wes asked. “Back to the bar?”
    Dave thought for a moment. “No. I doubt those bastards are dead; they'll know where we were already. We need another place.”
    Sheila looked around, the gun still pointed down the corridor as she walked backwards behind them. “Where do you propose we go? Not many places left.”
    “Maybe go to the Irish pub?” Dave muttered.
    Wes frowned at him.
    “Another bar? We can't get her back on her feet with booze.”
    They stepped up the stairs, half dragging Joy with them. Suddenly Wes stopped. “Dave... do you think you could get us into the luxury guest suites?”
    Dave pondered it. “If I can get to a computer, I can unlock them, yes.”
    “There's a security office on that deck.”
    “That'll work.”
    It took them half an hour to climb all the way to the luxury residential deck. It was the place where all the big wigs lived when they were at ‘The City’. Sheila helped Dave and Wes set Joy down. She was still out of it. Dave ran into the security booth and started up the PC. His fingers flew over the keys as he looked for a way to access the security system of the suites. All of a sudden, there was a bleep that indicated he was in.
    “Any preference for a suite, Wes?” His tone was back to normal.
    “Just fucking pick one.”
    For a moment, it was as though Dave was back in the control room for a dive and Wes and he were joshing over the radio.
    “Number thirty-three good for you?”
    “Suits me fine, man.”
    Dave hit the enter key and a door further up the corridor opened. Suite thirty-three. He switched off the screen of the computer and then looked around. In one of the drawers was a Taser, and in another was a laptop. He picked up both, found some cables and walked out.
    Joy's eyelids were opening and closing rapidly when Wes and Dave lifted her up again. Sheila went ahead of them now and entered suite thirty-three with her gun at the ready. She did a sweep of all the rooms, but found nobody there. It had been empty.
    The suite had three bedrooms, each with a king-sized bed. There was a bathroom and even a Jacuzzi. Wes and Dave carried Joy over to one of the beds and laid her down carefully. Sheila shut the door and then came in to close the blind before the porthole. There were no flames around this suite anymore, though there was clear evidence of burning on the porthole. She switched off the light and she and Wes left Dave to take care of Joy.
    There was a well-stocked mini bar and Sheila helped herself to some mineral water. She was parched. Then she laid the gun on the coffee table and sat down next to Wes. She nuzzled up against him, and suddenly she felt tired and closed her eyes. Wes kissed the