Wild Stallion (4 page)

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.

“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.

“In addition to getting me the info on Caden’s birth mother, there is something you can do,” he said to Evan as the ambulance drove away. The sheriff and one of the deputies followed along right behind it. “There are two women who were at the hospital during the hostage situation. Shannon Wright and Robin Russo. I need you to dig deep and see if one of them possibly took Bailey’s son.”

“Considering they were connected to the hostages and investigation that followed, I’m sure the cops have already done this,” Evan quickly pointed out.

“Do it again.” And it was definitely an order. “While you’re at it, I want another thorough background check on Ryan Cassaine.” Now Jackson looked at her. “He’s the adoption attorney I used.”