Tycoon Protector
Elle James

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Table of Contents

Cover Page

Title Page

About the Author

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

Copyright

2004 Golden Heart Winner for Best Paranormal Romance, ELLE JAMES started writing when her sister issued a Y2K challenge to write a romance novel. She managed a full-time job, raised three wonderful children and she and her husband even tried their hands at ranching exotic birds (ostriches, emus and rheas) in the Texas Hill Country. Ask her and she’ll tell you what it’s like to go toe-to-toe with an angry 350-pound bird! You can contact her at ellejames@earthlink.net or visit her website at www.ellejames.com.

I’d like to thank the wonderful authors who contributed to bringing this continuity together, making it come alive with action, adventure and romance. None of this could have happened if not for our terrific editors for their support and belief in us as authors. A great big, special thanks for making my dreams come true.

Chapter One

Jackson Champion stood on the Bayport Container Yard loading dock, sleeves rolled up, his cowboy hat tipped back on his head. Overhead illumination eclipsed the moon, making the busy container yard brighter than day with light reflecting off the low ceiling of clouds.

Despite the solid concrete beneath his feet, Jackson’s body still swayed to the rhythm of the ocean. It usually took more than twenty-four hours for him to get his land legs back after several weeks at sea. His two-month reprieve, delay of the inevitable, call it what it was—okay, escape was the right word—had come to an end.

The time had come to face the consequences of a night spent in Ysabel Sanchez’s arms. Yet here he was delaying the face-to-face he owed her by sticking around to direct the offloading of cargo from his ship. A task the stevedores and deckhands normally managed quite well without his presence.

Cranes lifted containers from the ship, stacking them in the container yard with artful precision. He didn’t have to be there, but he told himself he wanted to supervise the unloading of the special cargo he’d shipped for his remaining friends and founding members of the Aggie Four Foundation, Flint and Akeem. Just one more delay tactic. A twinge of regret passed over Jackson. One of their four had died recently; the pain still ached like an open wound.

The crate full of expertly designed Rasnovian saddles would bring a good price at Akeem’s auction. But the money wouldn’t buy a replacement for Jackson’s pending loss. An inevitable defeat from any angle he chose to view it.

The woman was sure to leave him. No doubt about it. She had every right. Hell, she had the right to sue him for sexual harassment if she wanted to get legal on him. Not that Izzy would do that. She was one classy lady, grown from the same stock as he was. The stock of hard knocks. A grin threatened to spill across his face. She hated being called Izzy.

No, Ysabel wouldn’t sue; she’d walk out on him. The two months enforced reprieve could be viewed as running away from his problem—although the problems he’d encountered while away had needed his on-site decision power. Jackson chose to call it delaying the inevitable. He’d missed her and he’d miss her even more when she was gone entirely out of his life.

He rolled the kinks out his shoulders and located the stevedore superintendent, the one man on the dock with a clue as to where the container holding the saddles was located and when it would be unloaded.

Being the owner didn’t make him any more anxious to interrupt the complicated task of unloading a cargo ship. Weight distribution meant everything to the successful completion of the task.

His skin twitched in the side of his jaw, impatience settling in like a case of poison ivy, making him want to scratch all over. Now that he was back in Houston, he was anxious to get to the office and see what had happened in his two-month absence from the corporation he’d built from the ground up, Champion Shipping, Inc. Everyone would have gone home for the evening, except perhaps Ysabel. If he could catch her alone, maybe he could apologize and promise not to let it happen again.

His groin tightened at just the thought of that one night of the most incredible sex he’d ever experienced. Rebound sex, he’d called it. And it could cost him his most valuable employee. Ysabel Sanchez—executive assistant, master planner and righthand man…er, woman. Ysabel was the one person he could count on to ground him in reality, tell it like it was and pick the right tie for every occasion. Even in his absence, she managed the day-to-day operations without a snag. She’d kept his schedule straight, reminded him of his social obligations and arranged his itinerary long-distance. The woman was phenomenal in more ways than he could enumerate.

Then why was he so hesitant to head back to the office?

Because he knew as soon as they were face-to-face, she’d hand him her resignation and walk out. Ysabel wasn’t a one-night-stand kind of woman. She’d want the happily-ever-after, something Jackson hadn’t believed in since his mother left him and his father twenty-seven years ago.

And after the fiasco with his ex-fiancée, Jackson was even less inclined to commit to that particular lifestyle than before. Not that Ysabel was anything like Jenna Nilsson.

The stevedore superintendent, Percy Pearson, glanced his way, Jackson’s cue he could ask his question without interrupting the man’s concentration.

Jackson closed the distance and held out his hand to the man. “Percy, good to see you. Have you seen the container with the special cargo yet?”

The man checked his handheld cargo tracking device. “Unloaded fifteen minutes ago. Should be in the second row of containers in that section.” He pointed to a row of containers on the dock.

“Thanks.” Jackson strode to the end of the row and found the container marked “Special.” When he circled behind the container, he noted the container door had been opened and part of the shipment had been removed. “What the hell?”

A forklift carrying a pallet with a crate on it headed away from the ship and the open container, moving faster than was authorized in the chaotic structure of the container yard.

“Mr. Champion? I’m Tom Walker, the super said I could find you here.” A young man probably in his early twenties hurried up to Jackson. He wore a crisp new business suit and shiny black wing-tipped shoes, fresh off the shelves. “Miss Sanchez sent me over. I’m the new management trainee on the executive rotation.”

Was this Ysabel’s idea of a joke? Not that he had time to worry about it when someone had pilfered his goods. “Did you see that?” Jackson pointed to the forklift. “I think that forklift driver took off with my property.”

“Was he supposed to?” Tom asked.

“No.” Jackson’s gut tightened, anger rocketing through his bloodstream the farther away the forklift moved.

“You want me to chase him?” Tom stared down at his wing tips and shrugged. “I could probably catch him if I was wearing my running shoes.”

“No, I’ll take care of it.” Jackson ran for an idle forklift he’d spotted standing between the containers. He hopped aboard and in seconds had the machine running. With the skill of one who’d done his share of stevedoring in his younger days, he backed out of the containers and turned toward the disappearing forklift. With a flip of a lever, Jackson shifted into forward and pushed the accelerator all the way forward.

Before the forklift moved two yards, Tom jumped on the back and held on to the cage surrounding the seat.

“What are you doing?” Jackson asked.

“Miss Sanchez told me I should stick to you like glue, no matter what.”

“She did, did she?” Jackson pushed the vehicle faster, swinging around the corner the other forklift had taken.

“Yes, sir. Wow! I didn’t know this rotation would be this exciting!” he shouted over the whine of the engine pushing the forklift to its limits.

Jackson didn’t know his return would be as eventful as his two-month trip. He could use a little calm and boredom about now.

The thief had a lead of at least a football field’s length, maneuvering past containers and personnel, narrowly missing several longshoremen unhooking a pallet from a crane’s cable.

The forklift made a sharp left turn, sliding between rows of neatly stacked containers in weathered shades of orange, red and silver.

Rage spurred on Jackson. When he reached the spot where the other forklift had spun to the left, he didn’t slow down. His forklift skidded to the right, skinning the side of a metal container, the clash of metal on metal sending sparks flying.

“You all right back there?” Jackson called out, a quick glance back at the young man made him smile.

The guy’s suit was dirty, his face smudged with grease from the forklift and his teeth shone white in a face-splitting grin. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

Jackson could admire a tough kid. “You passed your first test.”

“Oh, yeah? What test is that?”

“Keeping up with the boss!” He poured on the juice and sent the forklift shooting forward, but he could no longer see the other machine. “Where the hell did he go?” Slowing his own vehicle, he was about to give up and get the police involved when a shout behind him made him jump.

“There!” From his perch on the back of the forklift, Tom could see farther. He waved his arm back behind him, jabbing his finger to the right. “He went down that aisle.”

Jackson slammed the forklift in Reverse and spun around, heading back the way Tom pointed. Like the young man said, the runaway forklift was making tracks across the container yard and would have gotten away if not for Tom’s sharp eyes and quick response.

As he closed in on the other forklift, Jackson prepared for a fight, but he didn’t get the chance.

The forklift jerked to the left, crossing Jackson’s path.

Jackson stomped the brake and swerved to the right.

The forklift skidded back to the right and then left. Clearly the driver had lost control and was headed straight for a container.

“Look out!” Jackson called out, but the forklift driver drove full speed into the twenty-foot container. A small explosion blasted wood crating and metal in all directions.

“Get down!” Jackson threw himself off the forklift and dragged Tom off the back. Before they could hit the ground, another explosion shook the earth as the propane tank on the wrecked forklift erupted in a fiery ball of flame.

“WELL?” Delia’s voice carried through the wood paneling of the bathroom door.

Ysabel stared down at the wand, blood rushing from her head, making her dizzy. As she’d suspected, but prayed otherwise, a blue line.

“Izzy? Are you all right?” Delia’s voice was soft but insistent, bringing tears to Ysabel’s eyes. She’d need her sister more than ever now.

Given all the other signs, Ysabel shouldn’t have been surprised at the results of the test, but she’d hoped that maybe she was wrong. Maybe she’d missed her period because of stress and maybe that same stress had caused her stomach to be upset every morning for the past month. Yeah, and maybe pigs could fly.

So she was pregnant. She’d handled bigger problems for Champion Shipping; she could handle the matter of a baby, no problem. Ysabel opened the door and holding the wand up for her sister to see, stepped out of the bathroom.

Delia squealed and hugged her sister so hard she couldn’t breathe. “I’m so excited. I get to be an auntie!”

Ysabel pried her sister loose and stepped back. “I’m glad someone is excited. You know it changes everything.”

Delia’s smile stayed in place. “So? Is that such a bad thing?”

“Only when the baby happens to be Jackson Champion’s.” Ysabel turned and paced the short length of Delia’s living room floor in her Houston apartment. “Jackson’s back in town.” She stopped and sucked in a long shaky breath. “Holy Mary Mother of God, I’m about to be jobless.”

“And pregnant. Why resign now? It’s just not like you to quit anything, mi hermana. You sure you want to give up the best job you’ll ever have?”

“I can get another.” Ysabel ran a hand through her sleek light-brown hair that had worked its way out of the normal tight ponytail at the nape of her neck.

“Paying as well as the rich gringo pays you?” Delia huffed. “Not likely.”

“Don’t call him gringo,” Ysabel automatically defended, dropping her hands to her sides, her fists tightening almost as much as the knot in her gut. “I’ll find another job.”

“So when are you going to tell him?” Her sister’s brows winged upward. “The man has the right to know.”

“I know, I know. I just can’t risk letting him find out until I get far enough away from him.”

“You really think he’ll sue for custody? A playboy like Jackson Champion?”

Ysabel snorted. “The man keeps what’s his. How do you think he got so rich?” He kept everything but the women in his life. For some reason he seemed to go through women like an addict goes through drugs. As far as Ysabel knew, she’d been around longer than any of the females close to him because she hadn’t slept with him. Up until she made the Big Mistake.

“Ysabel, a child is different. It’ll only slow him down.”

“Not if he hires a nanny to raise it.”

“Madre de Dios!” Delia crossed her arms over her chest. “No niece of mine will be raised by a perfect stranger. She has more than enough family in the area to raise her properly.”

A sad smile lifted the corners of Ysabel’s lips. “If all goes as I intend, I won’t be in this area much longer.”

Delia’s eyes glistened. “But where will you go? Mama will be devastated if she doesn’t get to spoil her first grandchild.”

“It can’t be helped. I won’t lose my baby to anyone and I refuse to let him live a disrupted life of joint custody. He deserves a chance to be normal.”

“Without a father?”

A pang of regret hit Ysabel square in the chest. “You and I both know Jackson rides life in the fast lane. He doesn’t slow down long enough to notice anything but the business.”

“He took enough time to get engaged.”

“Only because it was on his scheduled time line of ‘things to do before I die.’ I penciled that in on his goals sheet when he wasn’t looking one day. The man wouldn’t have bothered if I hadn’t.” He’d totally missed the point, too. Ysabel could still feel the pain of watching him court woman after woman to find one who could provide the right corporate-wife image. He’d thought he’d found it in Jenna Nilsson. The witch. He’d even had Ysabel order an engagement ring for the woman. Wow. She shook her head. The memory still made her chest ache.

“Still, he did get engaged,” Delia offered, wincing when Ysabel glared at her.

“For what it was worth!” Ysabel threw her arms in the air. “She was cheating on him from day one with an old boyfriend.”

“You knew?”

Heat filled her cheeks. “Yeah, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him. The man is clueless when it comes to women. He deserved her.”

“Wow, and here I thought you were in love with the guy.”

“Emphasis on past tense.” Ysabel tossed her long, straight hair behind her shoulder. “I’m so over him.”

“Right, that’s why we’ve been talking about him for the past…” Delia glanced at her wristwatch, “thirty minutes.”

Anger surged in Ysabel’s chest. “Of all people, I thought you’d understand.” She grabbed her purse and keys. “I’m going back to my place.”

“You mean you’re going back to the office, don’t you?” Delia stood and followed Ysabel toward the door. “I don’t know why you bother to keep an apartment, you practically live at the office. What are you going to do when you aren’t working there anymore?”

“I don’t live at the office and I am going to my apartment,” Ysabel lied. She’d thought of a few things she’d wanted to straighten in Jackson’s office before he showed up bright and early tomorrow.

Delia rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

As she reached for the door, her BlackBerry phone sang out the tune to Mission Impossible, the one she’d assigned to Jackson Champion’s phone number. Her heart leaped into her throat, threatening to choke off her air. Ysabel dug in her purse for the device. “Where is that damned thing?”

“Calm down. He’ll just keep ringing until you answer.”

“I am calm!” Her fingers curled around the smooth black rectangle and she jerked it from her purse. For a moment she stared down at the name displayed across the miniature screen. Jackson Champion. Her breath caught in her throat and her fingers froze.

“Tell him, Ysabel. Tell him he’s going to be a father.”

“No, I can’t. I have to quit first.”

“You owe him that much.”

Ysabel’s hands shook. “I can’t.”

“At least answer the phone.” Delia reached over her sister’s shoulder and punched the Talk button. Then she leaned back against the wall, her brows rising up her smooth forehead in challenge.

“Ysabel? Ysabel! Are you there?” Jackson’s voice barked out from the phone, jerking Ysabel out of her stupor.

Her hands shook as she pressed the phone to her ear. “Yes, I’m here.”

“I need you down on the Bayport Terminal ASAP.”

“Tell him,” Delia whispered.

With Delia staring at her like her gaze could bore a hole into her conscience and Jackson’s voice sending goose bumps across her skin, Ysabel shook her head. “I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?” Jackson asked. “I need you here now! And set up a meeting with the Aggie Four—Flint McKade and Akeem Abdul—for first thing in the morning. We’ve got big problems.”

Ysabel resisted the urge to pull out a pen and jot down his instructions on the handy notepad she kept in her purse. She took a deep breath and straightened. It was now or never. “I quit.”

“You what?” Jackson shouted.

Ysabel held the phone away from her ear until Jackson stopped yelling. “You heard me. I quit.”

“That’s what I thought you said. I don’t know what’s going on, but quitting at this point in time is not an option. Get down to the terminal now!”

It was just like the man to ignore her when she wanted something. Ysabel’s stubborn streak set in with a vengeance. “Maybe you didn’t understand what I just said.”

“I understood just fine. I also have an employment contract that requires you give me two weeks notice.” Jackson paused, breathing heavily in the phone. “Look, I’ve had a lousy voyage with a man gone overboard. You sent me a trainee when I just got back in town, a crate full of what I thought were Rasnovian saddles just exploded in front of me, I have a dead man lying at my feet and the police are trying to arrest me for murder. Either you get down here now or I’ll sue you for breach of contract!”

Chapter Two

“I tell you, as far as I knew, the box contained hand-crafted Rasnovian saddles, not explosives.” Jackson held his temper in check. Now was not the time for letting loose. Not with a rabid, foaming-at-the-mouth detective ready to accuse him of God knew what.

Detective Brody Green nodded toward the area surrounded in yellow crime scene ribbon, a snarling sneer lifting his upper lip. “Obviously, the box wasn’t full of saddles. Our crime scene experts are leaning toward explosive detonators. Would you care to explain that?”

Jackson’s back teeth ground together. “Champion Shipping doesn’t transport explosives or detonators. Nowhere on my manifests was this indicated or I would have put a stop to it before it left the port of embarkation.”

Brody’s lips twisted into a mirthless smile. “Right. Still, I’ll need to question you and all your employees involved in the loading and unloading of this particular ship. And I’ll bet the Department of Homeland Security will want to talk with you as well.”

“Fine. I have nothing to hide.” Jackson ran a hand through his hair and looked around for the hundredth time. Where was Ysabel?

As if reading his mind, Tom, the executive rotation trainee, stared down at his watch. “She said she’d be here in twenty minutes. That was…twenty minutes ago.” He looked across the container yard and grinned. “Just like clockwork. How does she do it?”

The skin on the back of Jackson’s neck tingled. He didn’t need Tom’s words to tell him Ysabel was behind him. The day of reckoning had arrived and Jackson was no more prepared for it than he’d been two months ago. Face the music, Champion. Face it and lose her.

Sucking in a deep breath, he slowly turned.

Ysabel Sanchez strode across the heated concrete, her heels clicking, her long straight hair swaying around her shoulders in a curtain of light. Her full hips mesmerized him in the glare of the overhead lights.

Jackson’s mouth went dry and his groin tightened. Two months should have erased all physical yearnings he might have had for his executive assistant. It worked for all the other women he’d dated since he’d escaped puberty.

Ysabel wasn’t like the other women. She carried herself as if she were a Spanish queen, poker-straight, a haughty tilt to her chin, all business and no nonsense. Yes, that was the Ysabel he wanted to remember, but he had the other Ysabel branded in his mind and every nerve ending in his body since that night he’d spent in her arms.

Jackson had witnessed the softness and tenderness beneath the hard-core front she put on for Champion Shipping. Her Spanish heritage showed in the full curve of her breasts, the light olive tone of her skin and the rounded swell of her hips. Soft, moss-green eyes saw through his soul to the man he’d hidden beneath the rough exterior since his first day in the foster care system. The woman had a knack for reading minds. If Jackson believed in magic, Ysabel Sanchez was most definitely a witch.

His hands ached for the straight, light brown hair that sifted through his fingers like strands of the finest silk. Beneath that cool, professional exterior lurked a fiery passion he hadn’t seen before. The urge to pull her into his arms and pick up where they’d left off that night in his bed nearly blew away his icy reserve. Damn the woman to hell!

Jackson suppressed a moan and struggled to keep his hands in his pockets and maintain a professional face in front of the detective and the kid. Neither of them had a need to know of his transgression or his secret lust for his executive assistant. That was his cross to bear.

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.”

AN hour later, Jackson had reported the hit and run to the police and managed to get the corporate physician to pay a house call at Ysabel’s apartment. With Jackson pacing the floor of her compact living room, Ysabel lay on her bed behind her closed bedroom door, a cold stethoscope pressed to her chest, willing the doctor to declare her fit and get the hell out.

Dr. Adams folded his stethoscope and shoved it into his bag. “How long have you known?”

“Known what?”Ysabel asked, her gaze darting to the closed door of her bedroom. Could Jackson hear their words through the wooden panels? She couldn’t afford for him to find out now. She had to think, make plans and get the hell out of Houston.

“It doesn’t take a brain surgeon to figure this out.” Jackson’s corporate physician smiled as if making a joke. “You’ve missed a period and you’re throwing up, otherwise you’re perfectly healthy.”

She buttoned her shirt and climbed off the bed, putting distance between them. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’ve done the math. Question is, have you?” He waited, unmoving.

She teetered on the edge of lying again, but she’d had enough lying. “How accurate are home pregnancy tests?” Ysabel asked, her voice a soft whisper.

“They’ve been pretty accurate as long as you’ve gone past a period. I take it you’ve tested positive for pregnancy?”

Ysabel spun, a finger to her lips. “Shhh! I don’t want anyone to know.”

“You mean you don’t want Jackson to know?”

“That’s not what I said,” she argued, her words guarded, her brows drawing together. The doctor had guessed about her pregnancy, would he also guess the father of the child to be Jackson Champion?

Dr. Adams laid a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to worry. I respect doctor–patient confidentiality. Your secret is safe with me.”

“Thanks.” Ysabel swallowed the vile taste of guilt and nodded. “What are you going to tell Mr. Champion?”

“I’ll tell him it might have been a mild case of food poisoning and that you’ll be fine. Not the truth but not exactly a lie.” He squeezed her shoulders in a reassuring grip. “Ysabel, I hope you have the good sense to let the father in on your secret. A man has a right to know he’s got a child on the way.”

She stared up into the man’s eyes, tears forming in her own. After a long pause, she dipped her head. “I will.” As soon as she knew how she could retain custody when the father of her child could buy half of Houston with the amount of money he had.

“Fair enough.” Dr. Adams opened the door and stepped out into Ysabel’s small living area decorated in bold shades of red, yellow and orange. “She’s fine, Jackson. Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t cure.”

“But why was she throwing up?”

“Hard to say without blood tests, probably food poisoning, but it appears as if the worst has passed.”

“Don’t you think we should take her to the hospital and run those blood tests?” Jackson stared over Dr. Adams’s shoulder to where Ysabel stood in the doorway.

Butterflies turned somersaults in Ysabel’s stomach. “I told you it was nothing. We don’t need to waste any more of the doctor’s time or burden the hospital with nothing but a little bit of food poisoning. Go home, Mr. Champion. Like the doctor said, I could use a little rest.”

Jackson’s forehead furrowed. “I’m staying.”

“If you stay, I’m sure to get no rest at all.” As soon as the words came out of her mouth, Ysabel realized how they could be misinterpreted and her face heated. “Just leave. I’ll be at work bright and early in the morning.”

“Take the day off. I can survive without you for a day.” He plunked his cowboy hat on his head. “I don’t like leaving you.”

“Madre de Dios! You don’t live here and I haven’t invited you to stay. So get out.” She softened her words with a twisted smile.

The doctor nodded. “Leave the girl alone and go home, Jackson. She’ll be fine.”

His steps dragging, Jackson allowed the doctor to escort him out of Ysabel’s apartment. Not until the door was closed behind them and their footsteps faded down the hallway, did Ysabel let out the breath she’d been holding.

If she’d known that was what it would be like to see Jackson again, she’d have asked him to stay away longer. Too tired to think, she stripped, took a quick shower and fell into her bed.

As her eyes closed, she thought of all that had happened in the past three hours.

She’d learned she was pregnant, tendered her resignation, Jackson had nearly been killed and they’d almost been run off the road by a homicidal maniac.

Yup, that pretty much summed up the day. She yawned, wondering what was in store for the next morning. Reaching down, she pulled the sheet up over her head as though that would keep the chaos away.

“FLINT? It’s Jackson. We need to meet.”

Dr. Adams had given him a ride back to the building he owned in downtown Houston where he had the penthouse condo on the twenty-fifth floor. He preferred the wide-open spaces of his ranch west of Houston, but his business necessitated a residence in the city.

Standing at the floor-to-ceiling window in nothing but his boxer shorts, he pressed the cell phone to his ear.

“Do you know what time it is?” Flint McKade grumbled into his ear.

“Two in the morning. I know it’s late and I’m sorry to wake you, but I’ve got some serious problems. I’m going to need the help of the Aggie Four.” His hand tightened as it hit him in a fresh wave of anger and sorrow that the Aggie Four was down to three now. Viktor’s loss hit him harder when he needed the full support of the friends he’d grown to love and respect. He missed Viktor.

As much as he missed his dead friend, he needed the support of the ones still living. If he didn’t find out who planted the detonators in that container, he’d not only be up on charges of murder for the death of the forklift driver, but he’d also be the prime suspect in the possible plot to commit an act of terrorism against the United States.

“What’s the problem? Want me to come now?” Flint’s voice perked up, all sleepiness vanishing.

“No, that’s not necessary. Contact Akeem and let him know we’re having an emergency meeting tomorrow at your ranch at noon.”

“Will do.” Flint paused. “You know we’re with you, buddy, whatever the problem. Hang in there. There’s nothing we can’t overcome.” That had been their mantra throughout school at Texas A&M. The mantra had followed them through the years of building their empires.

Jackson’s throat tightened. He hoped they could overcome this mess, which right now seemed insurmountable.

FROM the rented apartment on the twenty-third floor, a man stood in darkness, staring through his binoculars at the building two blocks away. Things were going according to plan. The Department of Homeland Security would be heating up and all indications should point to the three remaining members of the Aggie Four.

Jackson Champion stood silhouetted against the window of his condo, unashamed of his nakedness and unaware he was being watched at that very moment. He appeared to be talking on his cell phone. Probably talking to one of his cronies about the accident at the terminal.

The hit and run on the interstate wasn’t part of the plan, but he chalked it up to an added bonus. Jackson ought to be feeling the squeeze by now. If not, he would be soon.

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