Kenzie shook her head, still off balance and slightly dazed. “I can’t, Reese. I’d love to go, but I have plans with Griff and Gran for the whole weekend. I’m sorry. I wasn’t prepared for this to happen. I hope you understand.”
“Of course I understand. You have a family to consider. I’ll give you some time, whatever you need. We’ll work things out when I see you next week.” He gave her one of his rare, beautiful smiles. “You’re my executive assistant. I’m sure you can find time in my busy schedule for us to be together.”
Her heart pinched. Surely this attraction they were feeling could never work out. Or could it? Was she willing to take the chance?
With all the doubts swirling around in her head, she gave him the best smile she could muster. “I’ll take care of it,” she said.
FOURTEEN
Reese spent the weekend working, mostly to keep his mind off Kenzie. He had always been so sure of her, always counted on her for whatever he needed.
This was different. Personal. She had stirred him up, then left him treading water, uncertain which way to swim. He needed to see her again, get his bearings, figure things out.
He’d decided not to call her. She clearly needed time to sort through her emotions. He just hoped she would come to the same conclusions he had.
It was Sunday evening. Currently, he was living in a penthouse condominium in the Design District, but he was getting tired of the hustle and bustle of the city. After Chase and Harper had bought a home, he’d started thinking about selling and begun to check out different locations. He wasn’t in a hurry, but the idea intrigued him.
The intercom buzzed. The guard in the lobby. “Someone to see you, Mr. Garrett. FBI special agent Quinn Taggart.”
Reese knew the name. Several years ago, Taggart had worked with a former Maximum Security female detective named Cassidy Jones. Though they’d never met, Taggart had a reputation for being competent and tough but fair.
“Send him up.” Reese had been expecting to hear from the feds sooner or later. They were investigating the crash. They were bound to have questions.
The doors to his private elevator opened and Taggart stepped out. “Sorry to bother you on the weekend,” the agent said, flipping open his badge holder, then tucking it neatly back into the inside pocket of his dark brown suit coat. “Special Agent Quinn Taggart.” He extended a hand Reese shook. “I’ve got a few questions I need to ask.”
“Actually, I’ve been expecting you.” It might take a while for the federal wheels to start turning, but once they did, they ran full speed ahead. “Come on in.”
Taggart was a big man, square-jawed, with a blond buzz cut. He wore a yellow striped tie and pale yellow button-down shirt under his coat. Polished brown wing tips housed a pair of big feet.
Reese led the way into his study, which was furnished in sienna leather and warm shades of mahogany, the only room he had designed himself. He walked over to the wet bar. “I don’t suppose you’re allowed to have a drink while you’re on duty.”
“A soda would be good. Whatever you’ve got will work.”
Reese opened a Coke, poured it on the rocks, and handed it to Taggart. He poured himself a Macallan single malt, neat, and carried the drinks over to the sofa and chairs in front of the gas fireplace.
Taggart sat down on the leather sofa. Reese took the chair. “How can I help you?”
Taggart drank some of his Coke, set the glass down on the sleek mahogany coffee table. “I understand you’ve been digging around, trying to come up with information on the helicopter crash.”
“It’s not a secret. I was in the helo when it went down. I want to know what happened.”
“So do we. We’ve interviewed the people you’ve made contact with, as well as a number of others. We know pretty much everything you know, and of course we can access data and information you can’t.”
“I’m sure that’s true.” Or maybe not. He had Tabitha Love, which tended to even things up.
“You’re the CEO of a billion-dollar company,” Agent Taggart continued. “People in positions of power have enemies. We figured, once you knew the helicopter had been purposely brought down, you’d start trying to find out if you were the target.”
Reese leaned back in his deep leather chair. “I admit the thought has crossed my mind.”
“One of the first things we looked at was the passenger list. We checked out the people on board, same as you. Nothing turned up, but a couple of days ago, we got new information. Turns out you weren’t listed on the original manifest.”
Reese’s interest sharpened.
“Apparently there was a last-minute change. Most days, Sea Titan uses a twelve-passenger chopper, an Airbus H-175, to transport passengers and crew back and forth to the offshore rigs. That day, the chopper you’d been assigned was needed elsewhere. The computer randomly picked your name and moved you to the smaller helo. Some of the other passengers were also reassigned. No one knew ahead of time you would be aboard the EC135.”
“You sure it wasn’t some kind of setup? Someone purposely had me moved onto that chopper?”
“We put our best computer guys on it. They’re absolutely sure the change was random. Just a case of wrong place, wrong time.”
Relief trickled through him. No need for a bodyguard or to worry about Kenzie’s safety. His relief didn’t last long.
“If I wasn’t the target, who was?”
“We don’t know yet. According to the people we’ve talked to, even with the mechanical problems, the chopper should have been able to autorotate down. That’s where pilot error comes in. Jake Schofield made a crucial misjudgment. If he hadn’t, there might have been injuries, but odds are, no one would have been killed.”
Silence fell as Reese processed the information. He wasn’t the reason the chopper went down and whoever did it hadn’t necessarily meant to kill anyone.
“Anything else I should know?”
“Just one thing. From now on, it’d be better for you if you left the investigation to the FBI.”
The warning came through loud and clear. Interfering in a federal investigation was a serious offense. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Taggart set his unfinished cola down on the coffee table and stood up. “At some point, we may have a few more questions for you.”
Reese walked him back to the elevator. “You know where to find me.”
The agent left and Reese’s mind went back to what he had learned. If the crash wasn’t meant to kill anyone, maybe it was just supposed to be another accident involving the Poseidon. The more problems, the more chance Garrett Resources would pull the plug on the deal.