by Kat Martin
Reese was CEO of the company. Kenzie had a feeling he regretted his brief lapse in the office on Monday when the process server had appeared and he had allowed his emotions to surface. She knew him well enough to know he had a protective streak when it came to his family, friends, even his employees.
Kenzie was grateful for the distance he was putting between them. She needed to rein herself in, get herself back on track, and Reese-the-CEO, instead of Reese-the-smoking-hot-date, or Reese-the-good-friend, made that a whole lot easier.
She tipped her head back against the headrest as the Rover rolled along I-45. She had accepted Reese’s help with the attorney because she’d had no choice, but she never should have let down her guard and allowed herself to think of him as anything more than her employer. She wouldn’t let it happen again.
Reese used the control on the steering wheel to turn down the volume on the radio. “I understand you met with Drew Wilcox.”
“He called you?”
“Just to let me know he’d talked to you and was taking the case. How did it go?”
“I liked Drew very much and so did Gran. He seemed confident and extremely capable.” He also seemed to understand that even with her generous salary, there was never enough money when you had two other people depending on you.
“Have you told Griff his dad wants custody?”
“Not yet. I’m hoping Drew will present my case—a single mother supporting her son and grandmother—and get the court to alter the divorce stipulations and allow me to keep my full-time job.”
He nodded. “If that happens, Lee’s case will never get off the ground.”
“That’s what I’m hoping. Drew has submitted some kind of brief that asks the judge for a dismissal. He thinks there’s at least a chance of that happening.”
“What about Lee?”
“If Lee wants more time with Griff, I don’t have any objections, but I doubt that’s what he’s really after.”
The Rover slowed, Reese changed lanes, and through the heavy morning mist, Galveston appeared on the horizon. The windshield wipers went on, the blades sweeping intermittently across the glass.
“We’re almost there,” Reese said as he continued through Galveston traffic, then turned onto the Pelican Island Causeway. At the heliport, he parked the Rover, and Kenzie stepped out into the misty sea air. She was glad she had dressed down a little, in brown pants and a blue-and-beige-print blouse, belted at the waist, no jacket, since the temperature was still warm.
Reese had dressed more casually, as well, in crisp, perfectly creased dark blue jeans and a yellow knit pullover. Instead of sneakers, he wore expensive Italian loafers.
He held open the glass door to the main office, and they walked up to the reception desk. A young blond man rose as Reese approached. “May I help you?”
“I’m Reese Garrett. I’ve got an appointment with Supervisor Brandt.”
The name Ryan flashed on the young man’s gold-plated name tag. “Mr. Brandt is expecting you. If you’ll please follow me.”
Robert Brandt was in his late forties, with thinning brown hair and a slight paunch over the waistband of his dark brown slacks. He extended his hand, which Reese shook.
“This is my assistant, Kenzie Haines.”
“Ms. Haines.” Brandt nodded in her direction and turned back to Reese. “I’m glad to see you’ve recovered from your injuries.”
“I was lucky. Two other men weren’t. The crash is what I’m here to talk to you about.”
Brandt nodded. “Why don’t we all have a seat?”
They sat down in sky blue vinyl chairs in front of Brandt’s gray metal desk. There were a couple of file cabinets the same bland gray. Framed aerial photos of Sea Titan’s offshore platforms lined the walls.
“By now you know the crash wasn’t an accident,” Reese said, leaning back in his chair.
“That’s right. Frank Milburn called me.”
“I want to know who was responsible and why it happened. I need the names of all the people onboard that day, including the pilot and copilot. I want the names of the mechanics and anyone who had access to the chopper.”
It was information Reese could have pressed for and gotten over the phone, but Kenzie knew he wanted to talk to the people involved in person, see if he could get some answers.
Brandt fell silent.
“If you need to get an approval, I’d suggest you call someone at Sea Titan who can give it to you. It was one of their choppers that went down, and I was on my way to one of their offshore platforms when it happened.”
Brandt conceded with a nod and reached for the phone. “I’ll make the call, but getting an approval might take a while.”
“Keep in mind, a lot more people are going to want the same information—including the FBI.”
Brandt’s hand stilled. He set the phone back down in its cradle. “You’re right. I’ll have Ryan get you the information. It shouldn’t take long.”
Kenzie rose from her chair. “I’ll make sure we get what we need.”
Reese stood up, too. “I appreciate your help with this,” he said to Brandt.
“The pilot, Jake Schofield, was a friend. I was relieved for his family’s sake that the crash wasn’t entirely his fault. I didn’t know Manny Alvarez, the other man who died, but I know he had family. I want the bastard who killed them just as bad as you do.”
NINE
While Kenzie stayed back in the main office and worked with Ryan to collect the information, Reese wandered the area around the heliport. Brandt had given him the names of the two mechanics who had done the most recent maintenance on the chopper.
He glanced up at a noise overhead, watched a helicopter lifting away, the whop, whop of the blades loud, then fading into the distance as Reese made his way inside a vast metal hangar. A group of men worked on a big blue-and-white helicopter that held at least twelve passengers plus two pilots. The chopper was typical of the ones that ferried the crew back and forth from offshore platforms, though it had been a smaller, eight-passenger helo that had crashed.
He walked up to one of the mechanics, all of whom wore dark blue overalls. This man was older, with a leonine mane of thick silver hair.
“I’m looking for Fernando Ramirez and Otto Kovacs,” Reese said. Kovacs, the lead mechanic, was in charge of the crew here at the Sea Titan terminal.
The mechanic turned and pointed to a bald, barrel-chested guy with arms the size of cannons. “I don’t know where Ferdie is at the moment, but that’s Otto right over there.”
“Thanks.” Reese headed in that direction, stopped a few feet away to watch the big guy work.
“What make is it?” Reese asked when Kovacs paused for a breather.
“Airbus H175. Top-of-the-line. Pretty motha’, ain’t she?”
“That’s for sure.” His gaze slid from the helicopter back to Otto. “I hear you were the guy in charge of maintenance on the chopper that crashed.”
Otto’s big bald head came up, his hand tightening around the wrench he was holding. “I worked on it. So did a lot of other guys.”
“Any of them good enough to file a piece of metal off one of the gears, crash the helo, and not get caught by the NTSB?”
Otto’s jaw hardened. “You better not be saying what I think you are.”
“I’ll tell you what I’m saying. I’m saying it wasn’t just mechanical failure and pilot error. The helicopter was sabotaged. Someone purposely brought it down. From what I hear, you had the skill to do it.”
“Who the hell are you?”
“I’m one of the guys lucky enough not to die, and you had better get used to answering questions, because the crash just turned into a homicide investigation. Sooner or later, you’ll be talking to the FBI.”
Otto’s chest puffed out until he looked twice his size. “A smart guy would get t
he fuck out of here—before I decide to toss you out myself.” He was tall, big, and burly, and clearly ready to fight.
“I wouldn’t advise it,” Reese said blandly.
“You think you can take me, city boy?”
“If you throw that punch you’re considering, I guess we’ll see.”
Otto’s mouth drew into a sneer that telegraphed his intentions as he drew back and swung a roundhouse blow that could take a man to his knees.
Reese easily ducked the punch. “I’m telling you to back off, Otto. That’s the last warning you’re going to get.”
Otto waded in swinging. He was the kind of fighter Reese used to be, using his size and strength instead of skill and brains. Reese ducked Otto’s powerful fist, sidestepped another attempt, and counterpunched, knocking Otto’s head back, then driving a fist into his stomach.
The mechanic was harder than he looked and the fist didn’t bury as deeply as it should have. Reese ducked and dodged out of the way as Otto stepped in and swung again, his massive fist clipping Reese’s cheek, but sliding away without much damage. Reese bounced back with a solid right that connected with Otto’s jaw, driving his head back, threw a couple of left jabs, then another right, followed by a solid left that sent Otto reeling. He hit the wall with a crash and went down hard.
“Stay down, Otto,” Reese warned.
“Fuck you!” Accustomed to winning because of his massive size, the man lumbered to his feet. A crowd had begun to gather. Otto looked at them and smiled. Spurred on by their cheers of support, he charged like a bull, head down, big feet thundering across the concrete floor.
Reese used the guy’s own momentum against him, turned to the side and gave Otto a shove, followed by a hard kick in the ass as he roared past. He landed on all fours and slid into a metal table, turning it upside down with a clatter. He shook his head like a big wet dog, took a couple of long, deep breaths, and staggered back to his feet.
“All I want, Otto, are the answers to my questions.”
A muscle in Otto’s jaw worked up and down. His round face was bathed in sweat and he was breathing hard. He took a last ragged breath and blew it out. His shoulders sagged and he nodded. “I didn’t sabotage that chopper. I wouldn’t do a thing like that.”
Reese walked up to him, tipped his head toward a quiet area off to one side of the hangar. “Let’s talk.”
* * *
As the group of uniformed workmen began to disperse, Kenzie stood in shocked silence in the shadows inside the hangar. She had just watched the CEO of Garrett Resources brawling like a street thug with a man the size of a grizzly bear.
And he had won.
She should have been appalled. Grown men didn’t act that way. Not civilized men, at any rate.
Instead, her heart was thundering with excitement and she couldn’t stop a twinge of admiration. The memory of Reese moving with the grace of a gazelle and the strength of a tiger was amazing. And sexy. A sweep of unwanted desire still pumped through her veins.
She knew Reese kept himself in good physical condition, knew he practiced with a self-defense coach three early mornings a week. But she had no idea he could handle a bad situation in a way that would make Jack Reacher take notice. No wonder he didn’t believe he needed a bodyguard.
He didn’t.
He finished talking to the mechanic, spotted her, and headed in her direction. She noticed his knuckles were bruised and there was a faint, darkening spot on his cheek, but aside from that, he looked fine. Too fine.
“I...umm, saw what happened with Otto Kovacs.”
One of his black eyebrows went up. “We...ahh...worked things out.”
“Yes, that was apparent.”
“I don’t think he had anything to do with sabotaging the engine.”
“What about the other guy, Fernando Ramirez?”
“Calls himself Ferdie. Apparently, he’s just back from lunch. I’m on my way to talk to him now.” Reese started walking and Kenzie fell in beside him, her purse slung over her shoulder.
“You get that passenger list?” he asked.
“It’s right here.” She pulled it out of her bag and Reese took it from her hand. He took out his cell phone and hit the button for one of his contacts.
“Tabby, it’s Reese. I’ve got those names we talked about.” He rattled off the passengers’ names and those of the pilots. “I need to know if one of these people was the target. Look for anything in their backgrounds that might have made an enemy willing to take down a helo in order to kill them.”
He nodded at something from the other end of the line, then added the names of the last two mechanics to work on the helo before the crash, Ramirez and Kovaks. The call ended and Reese shoved the phone back into the pocket of his jeans.
“One of the detectives from Maximum Security?” she guessed.
“In a way. Computer specialist named Tabitha Love. Technically, Tabby works for Chase and the gang at The Max, but since I’m a Garrett, she puts up with me.” A smile touched his lips. She watched the slow, sensuous curve, and her stomach contracted.
“Maybe she’ll find something,” Kenzie said.
“If anyone can, it’s Tabby.”
Kenzie paused as Reese came to a halt in front of a dark-skinned Hispanic male as small as Otto was big.
“Ferdie Ramirez?” Reese guessed.
“That’s right. What can I do for you?”
Reese identified himself and Kenzie, told Ferdie about the NTSB findings, and asked him about the crash.
“I don’t know anything about it, I swear. It’s my job to keep the damn things running, not cause them to fall out of the sky.”
“You and Otto were the last guys to work on the chopper. The FBI is going to be breathing down your necks. If you two are innocent, who else could have done it?”
Ferdie started shaking his head. He was thin and wiry, his face slightly weathered. “I got no idea who crashed the helo or why the hell they would want to do it.” He paused, his eyebrows sliding together. “Wait a minute. I remember something that might be important.”
“I’m listening.”
“The day before the crash, first thing that morning, one of the guys noticed a window in the back of the shop had been jimmied open. Whoever broke in would have had access to the helo.”
“You report the break-in to the police?”
“I reported it to my super and he called the sheriff. Deputy came out and took a look, asked us if anything was missing. We searched but didn’t find anything gone. I’m pretty sure the deputy filed a report, but that was the end of it. Until now, it didn’t seem important. I mean, we all thought the crash was an accident.”
“Thanks, Ferdie.” Reese handed him one of his Garrett Resources business cards. “If you think of anything else, I’d appreciate a call.”
Ferdie nodded, tucked the card into the breast pocket of his overalls, and walked away.
Kenzie looked at Reese. “You think someone from outside the terminal could have broken in and sabotaged the engine?”
“I don’t know, but it’s something we need to check out.”
They started walking back across the asphalt yard. “I have a feeling you don’t think it was Ferdie, either,” Kenzie said.
“The break-in changes the dynamics. It makes sense it was someone who wouldn’t immediately be a suspect. Someone other than one of the regular mechanics.”
“True, but from what you’ve said, whoever it was had to be an expert, someone who knew how to sabotage the chopper without anyone figuring it out. It’s been weeks. Whoever did it almost got away without anyone knowing.”
Reese’s jaw clenched, but he made no comment.
It was late in the afternoon and they hadn’t had anything besides coffee all day.
“We need to eat something,” Reese said. “See if you can find us
a place close by.”
Kenzie took out her cell and brought up restaurants in the area. “There’s a place called The Galley. It’s on Sea Wolf Parkway. Nothing fancy but the reviews look good.”
“Let’s go.”
The Galley turned out to be a locals’ joint with corrugated tin booths and music playing a little too loud. They both ordered catfish po’boys and iced tea.
As they finished the sandwiches, Reese checked the time on his phone. “We need to go to the sheriff’s office, but it’s getting late. We’ll have a better chance of getting the info we want if we go tomorrow morning instead of the end of a long, hot day.”
She nodded. It had been a long day, and she was exhausted. She took a drink of iced tea. “I think we made a good start, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do. Ferdie was right. Nobody put the break-in together with the crash because everyone thought it was an accident. Now that they know the crash was intentional, the FBI is going to be very interested in finding the intruder.”
“Maybe you should leave it to them.”
“Maybe. Let’s see what Tabby comes up with. Until we know why that particular helicopter was targeted—”
“Until we know for sure it wasn’t you they wanted to kill—”
He nodded. “We need to keep going.” He paid the bill and slid out of the booth. “Come on, let’s go. It’s still a ways back to Houston.”
After an hour and half of winding his way through traffic, Reese parked the Rover and walked Kenzie to the door of the apartment next to his.
“I’ve got plans for the evening,” he said. “You going to be okay on your own?”
He had plans. Of course he did. “I’ll be fine.” Aside from the night of the benefit, the only time she had spent an evening with Reese was when he was meeting business associates and needed her there as his assistant. “Actually, I made a note on your calendar that you had blocked out the time. I assumed you had a date.”
