Читать книгу Tycoon Protector - Elle James - Страница 8

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.