Crude Intentions

Chapter 16: The Backup Plan

Theo didn’t give his uncle the satisfaction of a formal goodbye. He clamped his hand securely around Charlie’s wrist, turned on his heel, and walked out of Bob’s ruined brokerage, dragging her along in his wake.

"Theodore!" Richard’s clinical voice barked behind them, but the heavy glass door slammed shut, cutting off the rest of the corporate threat.

The morning heat hit them like a physical wall as they stepped back onto the Goliad sidewalk. Theo marched straight to the Escalade, threw open the passenger door, and waited for Charlie to climb in. The silent fury radiating off him was almost radioactive. He slammed her door shut, vaulted around the hood, and killed the distance into the driver's seat.

He didn't start the engine right away. He just gripped the steering wheel, his head bowed, his broad shoulders rising and falling with massive, furious breaths.

"Theo," Charlie said softly, her landman analytical brain already calculating the coordinates of their survival. "Your corporate accounts are frozen. What about your personal liquidity? Don't tell me a guy with a penthouse in Houston doesn't keep a backup checking account."

Theo slowly cut his eyes toward her, his dark gaze heavy, hooded, and laced with a dangerous, volatile frustration. "Richard didn't just freeze the corporate lines, Charlie. A compliance audit under an internal fraud flag means my primary personal liquid assets are automatically locked for a seventy-two hour review window to prevent asset diversion. My personal cards are paperweights. Right now, I have about four hundred dollars in cash in my wallet and whatever liquid funds are sitting in Mark's corporate expense account—which Richard is probably freezing as we speak."

Charlie let out a low whistle, leaning back against the leather headrest. "Well. Look at you. A broke billionaire. If anyone in this town finds out you're running on four hundred bucks, your street cred is completely shot."

"I am not broke, Landman," Theo growled, shifting his weight on the seat, turning his entire massive frame toward her. The confined space of the SUV felt suddenly microscopic. He leaned across the center console, bringing his face close enough that she could see the amber flecks of pure fire in his eyes. "I own three energy subsidiaries outright that the board can't touch. But the liquid cash is tied up in a private trust bank in Dallas. To move a million dollars out of that trust without corporate routing, I need a secure, hardwired network terminal that doesn't trigger the Vance Energy automated compliance firewall. If I try to log in from my phone or the hotel Wi-Fi, Richard’s legal team will flag the IP and slap a temporary restraining order on the trust before the transfer can clear."

Charlie stared at his lips, her heart doing a familiar, erratic dance against her ribs. The proximity was suffocating, intoxicating, and entirely inappropriate for a legal emergency. "You need an untraceable, off-grid encrypted terminal?"

"Yes."

"I have one," Charlie said, a slow, triumphant smirk spreading across her face. "But it's not in a fancy high-rise. We need to go to my personal workspace."

Theo’s gaze narrowed, his thumb twitching against the steering wheel. "Where?"

"My property," she said, throwing her leather folder into the back seat. "Get us out of this parking lot before Garrett Cole decides to follow us. Take the highway west."

Charlie’s property wasn't a sprawling estate; it was a rugged, heavily wooded piece of Texas land tucked away behind a thick canopy of live oaks and cedar trees.

Theo navigated the Escalade down a long, bumpy dirt driveway, the suspension working overtime against the ruts left by the storm. At the very end of the trail sat a small, custom-built workspace—a pristine, modern structure that looked like a cross between a sleek container home and a high-end field office. It was compact, efficient, and completely isolated from the main road.

"Welcome to the real command center," Charlie said, popping her door open and hopping down into the gravel.

Theo followed her inside, his long legs taking up the entirety of the small entryway. The interior smelled like fresh cedar, old paper abstracts, and the faint, sweet scent of vanilla. It was meticulously organized—a massive drafting table covered in county maps sat against one wall, a high-end desktop computer with a dedicated satellite dish array hummed in the corner, and a small, leather sofa was pushed against the far window.

Because the space was so compact, Theo’s presence instantly altered the room's atmosphere. He looked ridiculously massive against the sleek, minimalist built-ins, his broad shoulders blocking the light from the side window as he surveyed her domain.

"It’s completely off Bob’s grid," Charlie said, walking over to the desktop and tapping the keyboard. The dual monitors flashed to life, displaying a secure, independent land index portal. "I run my private title consulting out of this terminal. The satellite connection uses an encrypted local proxy network I set up through a tech firm in Austin. Your uncle's corporate firewalls won't even know we're online."

Theo walked up behind her, the heavy thud of his boots solid against the floorboards. He didn't take a seat. He leaned over her shoulder, placing one hand flat on the edge of the desk and the other on the back of her ergonomic chair, caging her completely within the circle of his warmth.

The scent of him—cedar, raw masculinity, and the lingering heat of the morning—flooded her senses, making her breath hitch in her throat. She could feel the solid, hard planes of his chest nearly brushing against her shoulder blades.

"Log me into the private trust gateway," Theo murmured, his deep, gravelly voice buzzing right against the sensitive skin of her ear. He reached around her, his long fingers taking the mouse from her hand, his forearm brushing firmly against hers.

"You're crowding the operator, Tycoon," Charlie whispered, refusing to look up at him because she knew if she did, the look in his eyes would completely wreck whatever professional focus she had left.

"Then move, Landman," Theo whispered back, his voice dropping into a rough, low rasp that made her stomach do a violent freefall.

Instead of moving, Charlie tilted her head back, her dark hair spilling over the back of the chair, her eyes locking onto his. The proximity was electric, the quiet hum of the computer fan the only sound in the tight, air-conditioned workspace. Theo was staring down at her lips, his jaw tight, a muscle twitching in his cheek as he fought against the absolute gravity pulling them together.

"We have four hours until the Hendersons' lease voids, Theo," she reminded him, her voice barely a breath. "Focus."

Theo slowly closed his eyes, taking a sharp, ragged breath through his nose before opening them again, the icy corporate tycoon fighting his way back through the heat. "Right. The trust."

He typed in a massive, thirty-character alphanumeric code, his fingers flying across the keyboard with a practiced, brutal efficiency. The screen flashed through three separate security verification layers before a clean, gold-embossed interface loaded.

VANCE CAPITAL TRUST — PRIVATE LEDGER. AVAILABLE LIQUID BALANCE: $4,250,000.

Charlie let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. "Well. Look at that. The broken billionaire actually has a few pennies left."

"It’s enough to clear the signing bonuses," Theo said, his eyes scanning the routing fields. "But we have a logistical nightmare, Charlie. This trust moves funds via private federal wire. It takes exactly three hours for a manual out-of-network transfer to clear the federal clearinghouse and hit a local commercial bank account. If I execute this wire right now, the funds won't physically land in the Goliad Community Bank until eleven forty-five AM."

Charlie’s landman instincts instantly spiked. "Eleven forty-five gives us exactly fifteen minutes to get the physical cashier's checks drawn, drive three miles out to the Henderson homestead, and put them in Ms. Mae's hands before the clock strikes twelve."

Theo turned his head, his dark eyes locking onto hers with a fierce, absolute intensity. "Which means if there is a single delay at the local bank, or if the traffic on the highway hits a bottleneck... the lease defaults, and Garrett Cole takes the basin."

Before Charlie could respond, the security monitor on the corner of her desk flashed a bright, blinking red alert. The live feed from her driveway camera showed a sleek, dark sedan with Houston plates turning off the main road, barreling straight down the dirt path toward her hidden workspace.

Richard’s corporate lawyers hadn't just tracked Theo's phone—they had corporate investigators on the ground, and they were already breach-loading their next legal ambush.