Wild Stallion

“The police have the DNA profile,” she continued after trying to clear her throat. “I also have a copy in a safe deposit box.”

“A profile that could have been doctored,” Jackson snapped.

Bailey nodded, readily accepting his doubts about that. “But then, of course, there’s me. My own DNA. You can do what’s called a maternity study and see if Caden’s DNA matches mine.”

Jackson squeezed his eyes shut a moment and then started to pace again. At least that’s what she thought he was doing, but then he headed out of the room.

“I want to talk to the intruder,” he let her know.

Bailey jumped from the sofa and hurried after him. “So do I. But I also want to know the truth about Caden.”

He stopped and whirled around so fast that she plowed right into him. Suddenly, his arms were all around her, embracing her. Well, almost. Just as quickly, he pushed her away, but not before she caught his scent. Yet something else about him that smelled expensive.

“No more talk about Caden, especially not to an armed man who trespassed onto the grounds of my estate,” Jackson warned. “Something is happening, something dangerous, and I want to keep my son out of it.”

Bailey opened her mouth to try to change his mind, but she couldn’t. He was right. Something dangerous was indeed happening, and she had to try to stop the immediate danger first. That had to be her priority. Then she could press Jackson for the DNA test.

“We’re not on opposites sides of this,” she tried to tell him. “We both want Caden safe. And we both want the truth about what’s going on.”

“Oh, we’re on opposite sides all right,” he snarled.

Jackson didn’t wait for her to respond to that. He went through the foyer and to the front door. He shot her a warning glance before he stepped onto the porch. That warning was no doubt a reminder for her to stay quiet about the adoption.

The front lawn was nothing short of chaos. The decorators were still there, all standing away from the sheriff, two deputies and several men that she suspected were Jackson’s employees. There were at least a dozen of them milling around, shouting out orders, talking on their phones. In the distance, Bailey could hear the sound of the ambulance siren.

Lying facedown on the ground in the center was a man wearing military-style camouflaged clothing. There was a bloody gash on his sleeve where he had no doubt been shot, and next to him was a black ski mask.

He lifted his head and looked up at her. And despite the look of pain on his face, his mouth bent into an oily smile.

“You recognize him?” Jackson asked.

“No.” In her four-month-long ordeal, she’d never seen him.

Bailey wanted to demand to know why he had accused her of trying to kill Jackson, or why he had aimed that smile at her, but she decided to heed Jackson’s warning and approach all of this with caution. She certainly didn’t want to give the injured man any more information.

“What’s his name?” Bailey asked, hoping that someone would be able to answer.

The tall, lanky sheriff looked at her. “He hasn’t volunteered that yet.” Then he raised an eyebrow when he turned his attention to Jackson. “You’re sure I don’t need to take her into custody?” the sheriff asked.

But Jackson didn’t answer the question. He stared at the wounded intruder. “Has he said anything else about why he’s here at the estate?”

The sheriff shook his head, but his eyebrow stayed cocked. “You do know I’ll need answers—about her, about this guy on the ground and about any- and everything else that might be going on around here,” the sheriff said, volleying his cop’s gaze between Jackson and her.

“Yes,” was all Jackson had time to say before someone shouted his name.

Bailey spotted the sandy-haired man making his way across the lawn toward them, and this time it was someone she did recognize. From his photos, that is. She’d seen articles about him in the newspaper archives that she’d researched when she had checked Jackson out. This was Evan Young, Jackson’s business manager, and in fact, he’d been in the photo that had started her suspicions about Caden being her missing baby.

The San Antonio paper had printed a photo of Jackson coming out of family court after filing the successful adoption petition. He’d held a blanket-wrapped Caden in his arms, and behind him in that photo was Evan. All she had been able to see of the baby was his dark hair, and that had planted the seed that he could be hers.

“You should be inside,” Evan said, and he tried to catch on to Jackson’s arm.

Jackson threw off his grip. “In a minute.” He went closer to the intruder and stooped down.

Because of the approaching siren from the ambulance, Bailey couldn’t hear what Jackson said to the man, but it erased any trace of that slimy smile he’d given her. She walked toward them, hoping to hear the truth about why he was there, but Evan stopped her.

“I wouldn’t advise that,” he shouted over the howl of the siren. “The man is obviously dangerous.”

Their gazes connected, and while Evan’s tone seemed to indicate that he was concerned about her safety, she saw no such concern in his eyes. However, she did keep her distance because the ambulance pulled to a stop between Jackson and her. Since Evan was already tugging her in that direction, she stepped onto the porch with him.

The siren stopped and the medics jumped from the ambulance.

“Are you responsible for any of this?” Evan asked her.

“No. I have no reason to want Jackson harmed.”

“Right,” he mumbled.

She wasn’t surprised he was suspicious. After all, Jackson had asked Evan to run some kind of background check on her so the man knew his boss had suspicions of his own. Plus, the intruder had lied about her hiring him.

“Jackson’s going through a difficult time right now,” Evan continued. “Did he tell you that someone sent him a threatening letter this morning?”

“He mentioned it,” Bailey said, recalling Jackson’s question to her in the foyer. “He said he faxed a copy to SAPD.”

“Really?” Evan pulled back his shoulders. “Jackson doesn’t usually involve the police in his personal matters.”

But this was more than personal—it was a safety issue that might spill over to Caden. “Just what kind of threat was it?”

Evan hesitated so long, she wasn’t sure he was going to answer her. “It said ‘Jackson Malone, I won’t forgive and forget. Watch your back.’ Someone left it outside his San Antonio office, but two others were left on his car when it was parked in the underground garage at work.”

Bailey shook her head. “Maybe it’s related to his business?”

He made a sound deep within his throat that hinted it might be related to her. But how could it be? If the person or persons who wanted her dead also wanted to silence her for something connected to the hostage situation, then why go after Jackson?

“The bottom line is that it isn’t a good time for you to be here,” Evan warned.

“Maybe not,” Jackson interrupted. He had obviously overheard what his business manager had said. “But she’s staying until I clear up some things.”

Bailey was thankful that he might actually believe she was innocent, but she didn’t think Jackson was extending any invitations for her to see Caden. “What did you say to the intruder?”

“I told him I would bury him if he didn’t tell me the truth.” Jackson said it calmly, but there was nothing calm about his demeanor.

“Did he tell you who he is?” Bailey pressed.

“No. But I suspect he’s some kind of hired gun. He doesn’t seem smart enough to pull a stunt like this on his own. When the sheriff runs his prints, I’m betting we’ll know a lot more about him.” He turned to Evan. “Why are you here?”

Evan shrugged, as if the answer were obvious. “First the threatening letter. Then Bailey’s arrival. I thought you could use a little backup.”

The muscles in Jackson’s jaw stirred, but he kept his attention fastened to the injured man the medics were loading into the ambulance.