Wild Stallion

Jackson finally just caught onto her shoulders and put her against the wall. Body-to-body. Not the brightest idea he’d ever had, but it stopped her.

“Please,” she said, her warm breath brushing against his mouth at the same time her breasts pressed against his chest.

That “please” wouldn’t work, but Jackson knew it wasn’t a good idea to keep touching her like this.

“Why does Sheriff Gentry want to see Miss Hodges?” Jackson asked, directing his question to the intercom so that Steven would hear him.

“Because she might be involved with the intruder,” Steven answered at the same moment that Bailey issued a denial.

“I had nothing to do with this,” she insisted.

“Not according to the sheriff,” Steven contradicted. “When Sheriff Gentry approached the man, he said Bailey Hodges brought him to the estate with her.”

Her breath was gusting even harder now, and she frantically shook her head. She also struggled to break free of his grip. But Jackson held on.

“Did the intruder say why she brought him here?” Jackson asked.

“He did.” Steven paused again. “He claims Bailey Hodges paid him to kill you.”

Chapter Four

Bailey made a sound of outrage, but she wasn’t able to speak. She could only grab onto Jackson and shake her head, denying the intruder’s accusation.

He claims Bailey Hodges paid him to kill you.

“I didn’t,” she finally managed to say. “I swear, I didn’t hire anyone to do anything.”

But she didn’t even wait for Jackson’s response. Why should he believe her? She’d lied her way into his home and had then tried to escape when he confronted her.

Mercy.

She was so desperate to find her son that all her desperation must have made her seem insane. And maybe she was. She certainly hadn’t slept through the night since this entire nightmare had started four months ago. Jackson might have her arrested or hauled off to the loony bin.

This visit could cost her everything. And that cut through her heart.

The pain and the frustration slammed through her, and Bailey felt her legs turn boneless. Much to her disgust, she even started to cry. She would have no doubt fallen to the floor if Jackson still hadn’t had her in his grip.

“I didn’t,” she pled, though the words barely had any sound. Her throat had clamped shut, and the tears were streaming down her cheeks.

With Jackson’s body still holding her in place against the wall, steadying her, he used his left hand to lift her chin. Bailey didn’t want to make eye contact, because she figured she knew what she would see there on his face: his determination to have her arrested.

But his ice-gray eyes combed over her for what seemed an eternity.

And then he cursed.

He kept on cursing when he let go of her and stepped back.

“Leave us,” Jackson told the man who had rushed in and relayed what the sheriff had said. “Tell Sheriff Gentry the intruder is lying. Miss Hodges is a guest in my home and didn’t hire anyone to kill me.”

The man looked suspiciously at Bailey. “You’re sure, sir?”

Jackson hesitated. “I’m sure.” But he sounded far from convinced of her innocence. “I want to speak to the intruder before the ambulance takes him to the hospital. Let the sheriff know that.”

When the man hurried out, Bailey shook her head again, not understanding. And Jackson didn’t explain. He latched on to her arm and practically dragged her to the sofa, where he had her sit. He rummaged through his pocket, extracted a handkerchief and thrust it into her hand.

“Wipe your eyes,” he snarled.

She did, but the tears continued to come. Bailey stared up at him, blinking back more tears. And waiting.

Jackson scrubbed his hand over his face, groaned and paced.

“Convince me,” he finally said. “Tell me why I should believe that you didn’t hire someone to come here and kill me.”

Bailey certainly hadn’t expected this gift. And it was definitely a gift. It was possible Jackson had called off the sheriff simply because he didn’t want the authorities questioning him about Caden or the adoption. If the sheriff took her into custody, there would certainly be questions.

Did that mean Jackson had something to hide about the adoption?

Possibly. Or it could be a simple matter of his wanting to get to the bottom of this himself. That was certainly what she wanted. Bailey had been hiding in fear for her life for four months, unable to trust anyone, and seemingly not getting any closer to finding her baby. Maybe, just maybe, this was her first positive step in the right direction.

Or it could be a fatal mistake.

“My medical records prove I had a child,” she said, not really knowing where to start. Jackson continued to pace. “And you know from police reports that my newborn went missing. A woman took him.”

He stopped, and that icy gaze snapped onto her. “One of the women in those photos? Shannon Wright or Robin Russo?”

She nodded, surprised that he could recall the names. He’d barely glanced at the photos when she had shown them to him earlier. “Was one of them involved in your son’s adoption?”

“No.” And he didn’t hesitate. “I’ve never seen either of them before.”

Bailey believed him. Maybe because he believed that she hadn’t hired that intruder. Of course, this could all be an act, but the truth was, she could be under the same roof as her son. That was worth any risk.

“Those photos aren’t proof that Caden is your missing baby,” Jackson pointed out.

“No.” Bailey wiped away the last of the tears and gathered her resolve. “But I could have DNA proof.”

His stare narrowed, and she could have sworn it took on a lethal edge. Now here was the Jackson Malone she’d read about.

Ruthless. Dangerous. Intimidating.

“Remember, I told you my son’s umbilical cord was stored right after he was born,” Bailey explained. “It’s there at the San Antonio Maternity Hospital storage facility. The police worked up a DNA profile from it, and you could compare it to Caden’s.”

He blinked. That was his only change of expression, but Bailey thought he was both shocked and terrified about the possible outcome.

She understood completely.

If the DNA didn’t match, then this would be a painful dead end for her to accept. She wouldn’t stop looking for her baby. She would never stop. But as long as she didn’t feel safe trusting the police, that would slow down her search. Eventually, she would run out of money. And resources. God knows what she would do then.

But a DNA match could at least let her know that her baby was alive and safe. Later, she could deal with getting him back. Right now, the “alive and safe” part was the most critical.