Tycoon Protector. Elle James
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man go overboard on the sail across the ocean.”
Jackson’s face remained unflinching, his gaze shifting from Agent Fielding to Detective Green. The only indication of his ire was the muscle twitching in his jaw.
Familiar with his ability to hide all emotion, Ysabel picked up on the dangerous level of anger brewing beneath the surface. She stepped forward in hopes of diffusing the situation. “Do you have any idea how long the investigation will take? You do understand that time is money. By shutting down the offloading of the ship, you tie up the berth for longer than originally contracted.”
“I’m sorry, Miss—” Fielding glanced from Jackson to Ysabel.
Ysabel redirected his attention to her by shoving a hand in his direction. “I’m Ysabel Sanchez, Mr. Champion’s executive assistant. Do we need to call in our legal staff?”
Fielding’s brows rose with his shoulders. “That might be a possibility. We have four agents assigned to the ship along with two sniffing dogs. We should be able to complete our scan in a day. Two tops.”
“If you see that it will go longer, please let us know at the earliest possible moment. Other ships use the Port of Houston and the port maintains a tight schedule.” She moved toward the door. “If that’s all…” She waved toward the door. “I’ll see you out.”
Detective Green practically snarled at Ysabel. “Oh no you don’t. That’s far from all. And you’ll definitely want to bring in your legal staff for what I have to say.”
“And what is that?” Jackson stepped between Detective Green and Ysabel, his voice dangerously low.
“That forklift driver who died last night, Stephan Kenig, was dead before he crashed. Someone shot him in the head.”
Ysabel gasped.
Jackson remained stoic. “And this has what to do with me?”
Green pinned Jackson with a narrow-eyed stare. “We found a gun close by. My bet is that the ballistics will match with the bullet we found in the victim.”
Ysabel frowned. The man who died was the criminal, not so much a victim, and Detective Green was now treating Jackson like he was the criminal. “Again, what does this have to do with Mr. Champion?”
“Please, get to the point,” Jackson said, his voice sharp, his fingers tightening into a fist.
“The point is,” Detective Brody’s mouth turned up in a smirk, “we ran a scan on the serial number. The SIG SAUER registration is in the name of Jackson Champion. Mr. Champion, we need you to come with us to the sheriff’s office. We’ll need fingerprints to match with those we found on the gun.”
“I don’t know what’s going on here, but I didn’t shoot that man. I was chasing him because I thought he was stealing my saddles.”
Green snorted. “Nevertheless, your gun appears to be the one that killed him.”
“Detective.” Tom Walker stood in the open doorway. “I was with Mr. Jackson during the chase. I can vouch for him. He didn’t have a gun and he didn’t shoot the other forklift driver.”
Green didn’t look happy to hear Tom’s admission. “Are you willing to sign a statement to that effect?”
Tom’s shoulders straightened until he looked as though he was a soldier standing at attention. “Absolutely.”
“You’ll have to come to headquarters, as well. I’ll need a sworn statement from both you and Champion.”
Jackson nodded toward Ysabel. “Call my attorney and meet me there.”
Ysabel nodded as Detective Green slammed cuffs onto Jackson’s wrists.
Jackson’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t wince.
Anger surged inside Ysabel at the rough treatment. “Is that necessary? Mr. Walker just told you Mr. Champion didn’t do it. I’m sure he won’t try to run from the law for something he isn’t guilty of.”
The detective snapped the cuffs shut. “Procedure.”
Agent Fielding shook his head. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“This is a local issue. If you have a problem with the way I handle it, take it up with my supervisor.” Green shoved Jackson through the door.
Ysabel could have sworn Detective Green smiled as he led Jackson through the bay of offices, past Champion Shipping employees, treating Jackson like a common criminal.
Ysabel ran to her office, snatching up her BlackBerry and purse. “Come on, Tom, let’s get there.”
The elevator Jackson and the lawmen got into closed before she could get on. She jammed her finger on the down button, her toe tapping against the granite tiles while she waited for another car and someone to answer her call to the corporate law firm.
“Halston, Young and Franklin Law Firm, how may I help you?” a perky secretary said into her ear as the elevator door dinged open.
“This is Ysabel Sanchez with Champion Shipping. Mr. Jackson requests the immediate presence of Mr. Young at the sheriff’s office. Let me stress, Mr. Young needs to be there ASAP.”
“I CAN’T believe Detective Green dragged you into the station.” Flint McKade paced the floor of his spacious office, his cowboy boots tapping against the wood flooring.
Jackson rubbed the back of his neck, tension pulling at the muscles there. “Yeah, he seemed to get a big kick out of parading me through the office in cuffs. My employees will get a good laugh at that.” He shrugged, unfazed by the memory of his startled employees. Ysabel would give them the straight scoop. “Thank goodness I had a witness riding on the back of my forklift or I’d have been at the sheriff’s office a lot longer than the two hours it took my lawyer to straighten out the mess.” Jackson turned toward the door to the office. Where had Ysabel disappeared to? “What I’m pissed about is that someone broke into my home and stole my gun.”
“I thought you had a brand-new security system installed last year?” Akeem Abdul leaned against the wood-paneled walls, his boots crossed at the ankle, looking laid back except for the intensity in his dark eyes. If not for the jeans, boots and denim shirt, he’d appear the most ferocious sheik in any desert—fierce and loyal to his friends.
“I did. I used the firm Deke recommended. They installed a state-of-the-art system. No one should have been able to enter without detection.” His friend from college days at Texas A&M, Deke Norton, had promised him no one could penetrate the system without his explicit permission. Jackson smacked his hat against his leg. “I’ve got a call into Deke’s security specialist to review the entire system.”
Flint stopped in mid-pace. “What is Homeland Security saying?”
“The FBI agent in charge made noises that the detonators, the plane explosion, the man going overboard on my ship and the radioactive traces you found here at the ranch are making it look bad for the Aggie Four Foundation. They’ll be poking around all of us with questions soon.”
Flint nodded. “That explains the call I had from your man Fielding this morning. He wants to meet with me this afternoon. He’ll be working the angle of the radiation-contaminated parts they found in the horse blankets smuggled with that last shipment of Arabians out of the Middle East. It’s been three months and they still haven’t pinned who brought in those parts. They suspect it’s the rebel faction that staged the coup in Rasnovia, but they have no firm proof.”
“Gentlemen, the evidence is looking bad for us.” Jackson slapped his hat against his jeans again, frustration making him wish he could punch something or someone. “For me in particular, since my shipping business is the one bringing in the bad goods.”
“You’re not in this alone.” Akeem pushed away from the wall, strode across the floor and held out a hand to Jackson.