Fiona released a slow, resigned breath. “It’s all right. We never were exclusive.” She was right. They had dated a lot of different people, always kept things casual and open. She was undemanding and he had enjoyed her company. But it wasn’t serious and both of them knew it.
“Call me if you change your mind,” Fi said, but he knew he wouldn’t. He had lost interest in Fiona sometime back. The next time he needed a date, he’d go through his contacts, find someone else to accompany him. He’d never had trouble attracting women. He was more than decent looking, and he had lots of money. That was all it really took.
Which wasn’t saying much.
Lately, it wasn’t enough.
The memory of the evening slipped away as he strode across the office, then paused next to Kenzie’s desk. “How’s Griff?”
When she rose from her chair, he tried not to notice how her skirt and simple white cotton sweater showed off her curves. She always wore business clothes but somehow still managed to look sexier than he would have liked.
“Griff’s okay. He was going crazy cooped up in the house and he seemed completely fine, so I let him go back to school today.” She smiled and he worked to ignore the heat that washed through him. “I really appreciate what you did. I’m not usually one to panic, but it’s different when it’s your child.”
He nodded. “I’m sure it is.” Having kids was one of the reasons he’d gotten married. He and Sandra were already on the brink of divorce when they’d discovered she couldn’t have children. Instead of being upset, Sandra had been relieved.
“I’ve got a few things I need to add to my schedule,” he said. “Derek Stiles called yesterday. Looks like we’re having more problems with the rig.”
“You’ll get them sorted.” She flashed him a smile. “You always do.”
But there was one thing he was having more and more trouble handling and she was standing right in front of him.
Reese clenched his jaw and went to work.
He was sitting at his desk later that day when his intercom buzzed.
“It’s Frank Milburn,” Kenzie said. “He has news about the crash.”
Milburn was in charge of the NTSB investigation. “Put him through.” Reese pressed the speaker button and settled back in his chair.
“I know you’ve been anxious to hear from us,” Frank said, a small man with close-cropped brown hair. “I wish we could have completed the investigation sooner, but these things take time.”
“I’m aware. So what have you found out?”
“The last of the reports came in. We’d been waiting for some metal structural tests. Combined with the rest of the information we’ve assembled, the reports revealed what we had recently begun to suspect but until today weren’t able to confirm.”
“Go on.”
“Sometime before the flight took off the morning of the crash, someone tampered with the engine. A piece of metal in one of the gears was filed just enough to cause it to grind itself to pieces. The flight control mechanism disconnected, rendering the helo uncontrollable. To put it in layman’s terms, the helicopter was sabotaged.”
Tension tightened Reese’s shoulders. He didn’t ask Milburn if he was sure. The NTSB team had been investigating the crash for weeks. Two men were dead. The authorities had to be extremely thorough. The question now was who had done it? And why?
“Have you found out who’s responsible?” Reese asked.
“Unfortunately, not yet. As we’ve known from the start and you were informed, pilot error contributed heavily to the event. There should have been room for the chopper to safely autorotate down, but the pilot misjudged his position. He came in too close to the building, one of the blades clipped the corner, and the helicopter was torn apart.”
“So what, exactly, do you know?”
“We know a criminal act was committed that ended up causing the deaths of two men. As of this morning, the FBI will be taking over the investigation. They’ll be actively pursuing whoever is responsible for the crime, now a double murder.”
Murder. The news sent a chill down Reese’s spine. He leaned over his desk, shut off the speaker, and picked up the phone. “Whatever you find out, I’ll expect you to keep me in the loop.”
“I’ll do my best,” Milburn said. “It’ll be more difficult once the gears of the FBI begin to turn.”
He understood how a federal agency worked. Lots of interlocking pieces and parts that inevitably slowed things down. The call ended, but Reese had no intention of leaving the matter in the hands of some governmental bureaucracy, not even the FBI. The feds would have to start over, look at the crash from an entirely different angle. It could take weeks, even months.
Two men were dead and he could have been the third. He thought of the accidents that had been plaguing the Poseidon. The helo crash hadn’t been accidental. The chopper was meant to go down.
Was it possible he had been the target?
He couldn’t wait weeks or months, not when his life could be in danger. He needed answers. Finding them sent his mind immediately to his brothers.
Chase owned Maximum Security, the best private security firm in Dallas. There wasn’t a better investigator in the city than Chase. But once his brother heard the NTSB’s findings, he’d demand Reese have round-the-clock personal protection. Brandon, their younger brother, a highly sought-after bodyguard, would be the logical choice. But Reese had too much going on to be dogged 24/7.
Not when there was no proof Reese had been anything but an unlucky passenger. Especially not when he was more than capable of taking care of himself.
In high school, he’d fallen in with a dangerous crowd, older kids who were in and out of trouble. He’d found himself on the police radar, a troublemaker, minor car thief, fringe member of a local teenage gang, and street brawler. Activities that, combined with being picked up for using an illegal firearm, had led to a yearlong stint in juvenile detention.
His mom, divorced from his far-too-lenient dad and already raising his brothers, had taken custody and moved Reese in with her and her family. His grandfather, a former Texas sheriff, along with half a dozen relatives in the military or law enforcement, had stepped in and helped him turn his life around.
One of his uncles had convinced him to use his fighting skills in the boxing ring instead of on the street. By the time he was in college, he’d added kickboxing, then taekwondo, leading to a brief interest in mixed martial arts. Though he’d left those days behind, he still trained weekly to keep in shape.
No, he didn’t need Chase or Brandon, or his half brother, Michael, a computer nerd who lived in Houston, a recent addition to the family.