Tycoon Protector

Without a “Hello” or a “Good to see you” after two months out of the office, Jackson skipped the niceties and went straight for dealing with the more immediate problem. “Detective Brody, Ysabel Sanchez.”

Ysabel extended a graceful hand. “Detective.”

The detective’s eyes narrowed, his lips tightening. “Miss Sanchez.” He didn’t take her hand, just raised his notepad a degree and made a show of jotting down notes with the government black pen. “For the record, what is your relationship to Mr. Champion?” His glance skewered her.

Sensing the detective’s rising ire, Jackson jumped in and answered for Ysabel. “Miss Sanchez is my executive assistant.”

“Right.” Detective Brody’s gaze swept her from head to toe. “We should all have our very own assistant like Miss Sanchez, shouldn’t we?” A nasty smile slid across his face as he glanced at Jackson and Tom.

Tom’s brows rose and Jackson’s anger spiked to dangerous.

“Don’t overstep your boundaries, Detective,” he warned, his fists clenching at his sides. If the man wasn’t sporting a badge and a gun, Jackson would have taken a swing and to hell with the consequences.

But with a man being loaded onto a gurney for transportation to the morgue and an unexplained shipment of explosives, Jackson couldn’t afford to lose his cool. No matter how warranted.

Ysabel’s lips spread in a tight smile, her hand dropping to her side. “Could someone fill me in on what’s going on?” She glanced up at Jackson, her gaze quickly shifting to Tom.

A twinge of annoyance made Jackson’s chest tighten. So things weren’t right with her either after the two-month absence. So much for time and distance diminishing memories. Damn, he had a lot of backpedaling to do to convince Ysabel not to leave Champion Shipping. And he had to. She’d become his lifeline to sanity in a business that seemed to have mushroomed overnight.

Detective Brody stepped between Jackson and Ysabel, completely ignoring her and addressing only Jackson. “Could you direct me to whoever is in charge of offloading the cargo from your ship?”

Longing for a minute or two with Ysabel to set the record straight—although a minute wouldn’t be nearly enough—Jackson grit his teeth. “Sure.” He turned to Tom. “Could you enlighten Miss Sanchez? I’ll be back.” He hoped.

“Yes, sir.” Tom practically snapped to attention at the request.

A small smile quirked the corners of Ysabel’s mouth.

Warmth filled Jackson’s chest. That was the easy smile he remembered from his assistant before he’d slept with her. The warmth chilled almost as quickly as it came on. What he wouldn’t give to put things back to the way they were.

He walked away, leading the detective toward Percy Pearson, the superintendent responsible for offloading the cargo.

All the while, he could feel her gaze boring into his back. Yeah, he’d screwed up. If only he could get her alone and try to undo the mistake and make things right again.

Fat chance.

YSABEL clutched her purse to keep her hands from shaking. Her first face-to-face contact with the man who had tied her in knots for the past two months hadn’t gone nearly as she’d planned. She’d wanted to get him alone, hand over her resignation letter and walk out. A clean break. The less said the better. After he’d walked—no, make that ran—from his apartment following the most incredible night of sex she’d ever experienced, she had a firm understanding of what he expected from her.

Nothing. And she should expect nothing from him.

She might have been able to hide her true feelings and gone on, business-as-usual just like she had for the past two months—which hadn’t been hard considering the man had disappeared off the face of the earth physically, if not so much by e-mail and voicemail. Unfortunately, the result of their mental lapse in their otherwise professional relationship was the baby growing in Ysabel’s womb.

Her hand rose involuntarily to her still-flat midsection. She’d harbored more than a professional yearning for her boss pretty much since she’d gone to work for him five years ago. Determined to keep her job, she’d squelched her natural desires and pretended that his constant parade of different women didn’t hurt. After a while she’d begun to see a pattern in his dating. Date twice and dump. The women he dated were primarily money-hungry gold-diggers, mostly interested in his wealth and social standing. They hadn’t been given a chance to know the man beneath the charming, if somewhat distant, exterior.

Being his assistant, Ysabel saw what made Jackson Champion tick. When he didn’t think she was looking or he didn’t notice she was in the room, she saw what made him hurt and knew more than he’d ever tell her about himself by simply observing. In order to better understand her boss, she’d done a little digging of her own and knew he didn’t have family. Tossed into the foster care system at the sensitive age of seven, he’d been passed from one family to the next, never feeling the love of parents.

When he’d been more than a bear to work for, Ysabel reminded herself that the man had to be hurting inside still, never having resolved issues of loneliness and neglect from his childhood.

The only family he claimed was the Aggie Four, the closeknit group of friends he’d made while attending college at Texas A&M. An unlikely group of young men brought together by hard times, their own isolation and a need for friendship. He’d die for any one of them and they’d do the same.

A wave of sadness washed over Ysabel. The Aggie Four was now down to three. Even after three months, Viktor Romanov and his family’s deaths still burned in her chest. She could imagine how Jackson felt. As his assistant, Ysabel had been involved in many meetings of the Aggie Four and come to know the men Jackson valued as friends on a more personal basis.

The young prince of Rasnovia had struggled to bring his country into the future. With the help and financial support of the Aggie Four Foundation, they’d combined forces to rebuild the small nation after its split from Russia. Democracy and capitalism had been introduced and flourished until a group of rebels overran the Romanovs, killing them and plunging the country into civil war.

A lot had happened in the past few months to all of the Aggie Four. She suspected it was more than coincidence. She sucked in a deep breath and turned to Tom, a smile spreading across her face. “So, how was your first day with the great Jackson Champion?”

Tom grinned. “Wow, the man’s a dynamo! I’d no sooner gotten here then he was leaping onto a forklift and chasing after another.” He filled her in on what had happened with the runaway forklift driver and the ensuing explosion.

“Any idea what caused the explosion?”

Tom’s smile faded. “The firefighters found evidence of detonators in the debris. The detonators might have set off the propane tank on the forklift. The man driving…” Tom shook his head. “Not pretty.”

The wind shifted, pushing the damp smell of charred wood and flesh toward Ysabel. Her stomach lurched. She’d had only two bouts of nausea in the past two weeks. That plus the missed period had clued her into the fact she might be pregnant. She pressed a hand to her mouth and willed her stomach to behave.

Jackson stalked back toward Ysabel and Tom, his face set in tight lines. “Detective Brody is breathing fire and trying to come up with reasons to throw me in jail.”

Ysabel swallowed hard, hoping her stomach would stay down. “Why?”

“He wants to pin the shipment of detonators on me and Champion Shipping, not to mention slapping a murder charge on me for the thief’s death.” Jackson ran his hand through his hair, making the dark locks stand on end. “I’ll need that emergency meeting of the Aggie Four to happen first thing tomorrow morning.”

She nodded, afraid to open her mouth. Another waft of pungent air hit her and her stomach burbled.

“We’ll meet at McKade’s ranch house. I could use the fresh air.” He glanced around the container yard, shaking his head. “If the Department of Homeland Security sinks its teeth into this, it could shut down Champion Shipping indefinitely.”

Ysabel knew they could and she understood the impact to their customers and cash flow. They could lose millions.

“The detective said I could go but to expect more questions.” Jackson turned to Tom. “Did you drive your own car?”

“Yes, sir.”

“No need for you to ruin your night. I’ll see you tomorrow in the office.”

Tom nodded, shooting a look from Jackson to Ysabel for confirmation.

Ysabel nodded. “See ya tomorrow.”

“Okay, then.” Tom gave them one last look as though he was afraid he’d miss something important or exciting by leaving, then he turned and strode toward the parking lot.

Alone at last, Ysabel quelled an urge to run after Tom. She didn’t want to be alone with Jackson. So much remained unsaid and even though she’d wanted to clear the air, now that she had the opportunity, she couldn’t find the backbone to make it happen.

Jackson fixed that for her. He took one more look around then headed off toward the parking lot, his pace eating the distance. “Come on, I want to swing by the office. I’ll need a list of all employees working the shipment here and in Rasnovia where we picked up the saddles. Then we’ll need to compile a list of anyone who might have it in for me, although I suspect that could be a long one. You don’t make as much money as I do without accumulating enemies.”

“I know this isn’t a good time for you, but what part of ‘I quit’ didn’t you understand?”

Jackson stopped dead still. He didn’t turn, didn’t look at her, but his shoulders stiffened. “And what part of ‘lawsuit’ didn’t you understand? I need you now to help me figure out this mess. After that, we’ll discuss your severance options.” He didn’t wait for her response, but continued toward the parking lot.

Ysabel hurried to keep up. She was used to racing after Jackson even on a good day. He didn’t waste time and he didn’t suffer slowpokes. If only her stomach would cooperate. Several steps brought her closer to the source of the smell and she saw the emergency personnel zipping the remains of the forklift driver into a body bag.

The charred skin and the stench of burned flesh sent Ysabel over the edge. Her stomach heaved. She dropped back and held her hand over her mouth. No, please, not now. Tears welled in her eyes.

Jackson, aware he’d lost her, stopped and turned, a frown creasing his brow. “Is everything all right, Miss Sanchez?”

She wanted to throw something at him and hug him at the same time. Damn the man! Of course everything wasn’t all right. And she couldn’t tell him why. She could only hope that she didn’t disgrace herself in front of him. Now would not be the time to display weakness. “I’m fine. Just winded,” she lied and quickly clamped her hand back over her mouth.

Unconvinced, he retraced his steps and stood in front of her. “Are you feeling well?”

His concerned tone pushed the tears over the edge of her eyelids. They made a trail down her cheeks. She couldn’t move, couldn’t straighten fully without losing the contents of her stomach. Damn, why had she eaten that pizza with her sister? If she never saw another pizza again, it would be too soon.

Jackson’s fingers clamped around her wrist and he tugged her hand down. “What’s wrong Ysabel? Why the tears?” He scanned her face and looked down at her bare lips. “Your face and lips are pale. Perhaps you should sit down. Do I need to have the emergency personnel check you out?”

“No!” Her eyes widened. Fear he’d find out her secret made her reply more sharply than she’d intended. “No, I’m fine. Really. I must have eaten something that didn’t agree with my stomach.” Beads of perspiration sprang up on her brow. If only he’d back off and leave her to handle her problem on her own.

Jackson pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I think you should see the EMT.” He glanced behind her.

Afraid he’d wave down one of the emergency responders, Ysabel straightened, pulling her hands out of his and swallowing the bile rising in her throat. “No, really.” She smoothed her hands down her skirt and forced a smile. “See? I’m better already.”

His frown deepened as though he didn’t believe her for a minute. Then he shrugged. “Okay, then let’s get out of here.”

Holy Mary, Mother of God, that smell! A gentle gust of coastal wind pushed the horrible smell across Ysabel’s nostrils and she was a goner.

Her stomach upended, regurgitated pizza and apple juice launching from her insides. Poor, unsuspecting Jackson, who still stood directly in front of her, didn’t have a chance.

She emptied the contents of her miserable gut on his trouser legs and shoes.

Jackson yelped and jumped back, but not soon enough to avoid her unplanned aim.

Unable to stop, Ysabel retched and retched, tears squeezing from between her tightly shut eyelids.

Then she felt hands pulling her hair back behind her head and warm fingers holding her shoulders. The same hands that had stroked every inch of her body with such smooth sensuality, now held her gently, providing support and comfort.

Jackson’s tenderness did nothing to stem the flow of tears coursing down her face. If anything it only made them worse.

When her stomach let up, she was able to ease to an upright position. Embarrassed and certain she was an undignified disaster, Ysabel turned her back to Jackson. “Leave me alone,” she moaned.

“I can’t.” He turned her toward him and patted her face with a clean cotton handkerchief, drying her tears and mopping up what he could of her gastronomic pyrotechnics.

“I’m sorry. I guess the smell got to me.”

He smiled and smoothed her hair back from her face. “It happens to the best of us.”

“But not to me.” Ysabel grabbed his wrist and relieved him of the scrap of cloth, her lips pressing into a tight line. She couldn’t take much more of his concern. Not when she had to get away from him and Champion Shipping forever. Not when her heart was shattering into a billion pieces.

What a dope. How could she be so stupid to fall so completely in love with her boss?

Chapter Three

Jackson insisted on driving Ysabel’s compact red car with its sparkling set of rosary beads dangling from the rearview mirror, folding his six-foot-two-inch frame behind the driver’s wheel. After tossing her cookies at the container yard, Ysabel was too shaky and weak to maneuver Houston traffic—or so Jackson reasoned after wrestling the keys from her stubborn, unwilling hands.

Truth was, his own hands were shaking and he wasn’t feeling so steady. Not that he’d ever admit it. The great Jackson Champion had narrowly missed being blown up and faced the possibility of going to jail all upon return from a two-month sabbatical from his home in Houston. But what had him confused and shaking inside was Ysabel being so violently ill.

Ysabel, the one constant in his life. The person he’d come to depend on for just about everything. The woman he’d betrayed by taking her to his bed in a fit of rebound sex.

His hands gripped the wheel so tightly that his knuckles whitened. Late at night the traffic in Houston was almost tolerable. He didn’t have to sit in jammed lines of vehicles and pray his car didn’t overheat in the unrelenting Texas sun.

“I thought we were going back to the office.” Ysabel sat beside him, her normal color almost returned to her face, back in professional mode and ready to take on any challenge. She was amazing.

And that was the problem. She didn’t know when to take time out for herself. She’d let him drive her into the dirt before she cried uncle. His lips pressed together. Wasn’t it time to take others into consideration for once? Had he been that incredibly selfish? “I’m taking you back to my place.”

“No!”

Her sharp reply made him risk a glance her way. In the light from the dash, her eyes rounded and she gripped her purse like the rail on the edge of a sheer drop-off. Was she scared of him?

The muscles in his chest pulled tight, especially the big one conducting blood through his system. He’d done that. Made her afraid of him, but that didn’t change the fact she’d thrown up in the container yard and that he didn’t think she should be left alone. “You’re not well.”

“Now that my stomach is empty, I feel just fine. Let’s get to the office and pull up that information you wanted. I can’t—don’t want to go to your place…” Her voice trailed off and she chewed on her lip.

Jackson’s teeth ground together. She didn’t trust him to keep his hands to himself. He couldn’t blame her. After all, he’d taken advantage of her giving nature two months ago and taken her to his bed. He shouldn’t expect her to warm to the idea of being alone with him in the place he’d slept with her.

It had all unraveled because of his stupid, selfish attitude. So his ego had taken a hit after being jilted by his fiancée. He’d had no right to demand Ysabel meet him at his place after office hours. He’d been so obsessed with finding out why he’d been summarily dismissed by Jenna without so much as an explanation. It completely set him aback. Why would any woman walk away from marriage to a billionaire?

Ysabel tried to make him see that he hadn’t been marrying for the right reasons. Love had never entered the equation with Jenna. He’d decided he needed a wife and Jenna had seemed to fit the bill.

Ysabel had argued that good breeding stock, with connections in the corporate world wasn’t enough to base a marriage on.

He’d countered that he didn’t want children nor the messiness and entanglement of love. No one ever won when love was involved. All he wanted was a wife to grace his dinner table when he entertained his important guests.

Ysabel had been equally passionate that love and family meant everything and that he should be glad Jenna called it off before Jackson had made the biggest mistake of his life.

Ysabel’s green eyes had flashed with her zeal. Having called her to his condo late at night, she’d come immediately, dressed in a jean skirt and a skimpy camisole.

For the first time in their five-year relationship as employee and boss, Jackson saw past the professional facade she donned every day, and he was shocked. Shocked and completely and irrevocably turned on. Ysabel wasn’t the sensible, icy exec he’d thought she was. She was fiery and sassy, strong and determined.

That’s when he’d kissed her. The kiss led to more until he woke up the next morning with her lying next to him in his bed.

He’d come awake staring down at her, thinking how right she looked with her light brown hair splayed across his pillow, and how he could get used to having her wake up next to him every day of his life.

Then reality hit him like a rockslide. He’d steered clear of relationships for a reason. They never worked. Divorce happened and kids were abandoned and grew up in broken homes or foster homes. Like him.

He couldn’t do that to any kid of his, couldn’t bring a child into the world knowing he might not be in his life to give him the love and support he’d need. Knowing that most marriages were doomed to failure.

“Okay, then, I’m taking you home. You don’t need to be working when you’re sick.”

“Really, I’m fine.” She reached out and laid her hand on his arm.

An electric shock ran from where she touched all the way through him, making his heartbeat increase, pumping blood like an overworked piston through his bloodstream. His gaze dropped to where her slender fingers curled around his sleeve.

As quickly as she’d placed it there, she withdrew her hand and clasped it in her lap, pleating the fabric of her linen skirt, clearly nervous in his company.

What a mess he’d made of his relationship with the only woman he’d ever trusted. He’d destroyed her trust.

“I don’t want to go home,” she insisted. “We need to work quickly to get this matter resolved.”

A heavy lump settled in his gut and his jaw tightened. “So you can resign?” He took a turn a little faster than he’d intended, tires skidding on the still-hot pavement.

“Madre de Dios, Jackson! Could you slow it down? I’m not partial to getting car sick and I don’t relish being involved in a wreck.”

“Sorry.” He slowed, taking the turns at a reasonable speed, recognizing the physical effort it took him to keep his foot from ramming the accelerator through the floorboard. Once he’d eased onto Interstate 45 heading into downtown Houston, he willed his fingers to loosen their grip.

“In answer to your previous question…” She sighed. “Yes. Partly. I want to have this situation resolved before I leave the corporation. More than that I want to stop whoever is using Champion Shipping to smuggle deadly and illegal substances.” Her hands balled into fists. “We need to nail the bastard.”

A smile pushed Jackson’s lips up on the edges. That was his Ysabel. She had been the most loyal employee on his payroll, doing everything in her power to ensure the success of Champion Shipping.

“Thanks.” He shot a glance her way. “I guess that’s all I can expect.”

Her shoulders rose and fell on a deep breath. “Jackson, we need to talk.”

The lead weight in his gut flipped. “We need to talk” always meant she needed to say something and he wasn’t going to like it. He risked another glance her way, trying to read the expression in her profile and failing miserably. Out of the far corner of his eye, he caught a flash of headlights glaring off his side mirror. Before he could turn and look, a dark sedan raced up beside the compact car and slammed into the driver’s side.

Having relaxed his grip on the wheel, Jackson wasn’t prepared for the impact. The car jolted and skidded to the side, bounced against the concrete guard rail and swerved across three lanes of traffic. The dark sedan slammed into the back panel, setting the car into a spin.

“Holy Jesus!” Ysabel cried out, bracing her hands against the dash.

Jackson fought to regain control of the car, bringing it to a hair-raising stop on the far shoulder against a concrete barricade, facing oncoming traffic.

The smell of burned rubber and exhaust fumes filled the interior of the small car.

Ysabel scrambled for the door handle, frantically trying to unlock it.

“Stay in the car, Izzy.” He grabbed her hand, stopping her crazed attempt to get out. “We don’t know if that guy will come back and hit us again.”

“I don’t care. I have to get out.” She flung the door open and it crashed into the concrete. Then she dived out onto the ground.

Jackson jumped out and rounded the car.

Ysabel crouched on her hands and knees heaving, her entire body shaking with the effort. But nothing came up. The sound of her tortured gasps tore at Jackson’s heart.

He dropped to the ground and gathered her against him. “Izzy, sweetheart, breathe.” He sat back on the pavement, settling her in his lap. “Breathe, baby.”

Her pale face glowed in the moonlight, her cheeks shining with tears. “I’m sorry.”

“What have you got to be sorry about? I should have been paying attention.”

“I’m not usually sick.”

“I know, and that has me worried. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

She stiffened. “No.”

“I won’t take no for an answer.” He climbed to his feet, carrying Ysabel with him. “We’re going to the hospital. This isn’t right.”

“No. I’ll refuse treatment. Just take me home.”

“Okay, so no hospital. But you’re going home and I’m calling in my physician. End of subject.”

She stared at him, her face close enough to kiss, her eyes rounded, with dark smudges beneath them.

The need to take her lips was more than an urge, it was an obsession. If he didn’t think she’d slap his face, he’d have followed his desire. But Ysabel had had more than enough excitement for one day. He set her in the car and strapped on her seat belt, adjusting her seat back so that she lay fully reclined. “Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll take care of you.”