Wild Stallion (7 page)

Those dangerous gray eyes narrowed slightly. “Do you mean am I pretending to be attracted to you? No,” he answered before she could respond.

He pulled her to him again. “Trust me, if I could feel differently about you, I would. You’re a threat, plain and simple, and yes, I have been thinking about how to neutralize the threat.” He stayed quiet a moment. “But then I’ve also been thinking about kissing you.”

That both frightened and excited her, because she’d been thinking about kissing him, too. “I’m not faking the attraction either,” she confessed. “That means we have a problem.”

Jackson was so close now, practically right in her face, looking down at her. The corner of his mouth lifted, causing a dimple to flash in his cheek. A dimple. On any other man, that might have added a touch of wholesomeness to dark, rugged looks, but his looks were nowhere in the realm of being wholesome.

In a fantasy, Jackson would have been the pirate. A Wild West outlaw. Or the vampire who had his deadly desire barely under control. A face and body perfect for seducing and drawing women in.

But she suspected he’d never had to seduce a woman in his life.

“Are you as bad as I think you are?” she asked.
Mercy.
There was too much breath in her voice, and she sounded as if she were under his spell. Heck, she was. Maybe that vampire fantasy wasn’t so far off the mark.

He nodded. “Once, I was attracted to a business rival, and I slept with her. The next week I did a hostile takeover of her company.”

For some stupid reason, that made Bailey smile. What was wrong with her? She should be pulling away, but the sound of his voice and that half smile made her feel all warm and golden.

“I’m not a nice guy,” he added. And he lowered his head and touched his mouth to hers.

Bailey felt as if she were melting.

She’d expected his mouth to be slightly rough and warm. It was. She’d expected him to know how to kiss.

He did.

But even with all those expectations in place, she was still shocked at what he was doing to her. It was as if he knew just the right pressure, just the right angle to draw as much from the kiss as was humanly possible. This was the reason people kissed and fantasized about kissing, she decided. So they could feel this slow hunger slide right through them.

The moment was perfect: the sun-washed room, the devil in the great-fitting jeans who had her in his arms, her body yielding to the pressure and heat that his mouth had created.

Bailey lifted her hand to slip it around the back of his neck and draw him closer, but she stopped at the last second. What she didn’t do was stop the kiss. She couldn’t. She began to tingle, the sensation starting at her mouth and gliding through the rest of her. Everything inside her suddenly wanted this. And more.

It had been so long since she’d had
more,
and she’d never had the likes of Jackson Malone. Kissing him was playing with fire, and that still didn’t make her pull away.

Jackson was the one who stopped. He blinked and stared down into her eyes. “That was better than I thought it would be,” he complained. “And my expectation had been pretty high.”

Yes. She knew exactly what he meant.

Thankfully, Bailey didn’t have to voice that, because his cell rang. And just like that, the moment was lost. Good thing, too. One kiss shouldn’t feel like hours of foreplay. It shouldn’t leave her body with a dull ache that only one thing would cure. And that one thing was someone she couldn’t have or kiss again.

Jackson answered the call, but continued to study her. “Evan,” he greeted, after glancing at the screen.

That was it. All he said. But it snapped her back to reality and out of the land of kissing foreplay and wild fantasies. A good thing, too, because this call could be critical. Again, Bailey couldn’t hear the conversation, but she prayed Evan had the DNA test results and that the results would prove that Caden was hers.

Jackson didn’t exactly put on a poker face. As he listened, his jaw muscles went to war with each other. His mouth bent into a snarl.

“Find out what happened and get someone down to that lab immediately. If there’s been any kind of breach in privacy, I want to know about it.”

That finished sobering her up.
Sweet heaven. This certainly didn’t seem like good news.

“What happened?” she asked, the moment he hung up.

“The lab misplaced the DNA test results.”

“What?” Her mind began to race. Had the woman who’d stolen her baby somehow got the results so that Jackson and she couldn’t learn the truth?

“Don’t go there yet,” Jackson mumbled. “It’s the holidays. The lab is working with just a skeleton crew, so the tests could still be there, but maybe misfiled.”

She shook her head. He seemed so calm about this. Maybe too calm. “But someone might have tampered with them.”

“Evan’s taking a second set to another lab.”

And that brought her to yet another concern.

“Can I trust Evan?” she asked. “Would he doctor the results to get me out of the way?”

“No,” Jackson said with complete confidence. “He might insist that I lie to you. He might even try to handle getting you out of the picture on his own. But he would tell me the truth.”

Hopefully, Jackson would do the same for her, but Bailey had to be realistic. She needed to figure out how to get her own sample of Caden’s DNA so she could compare it to the stored umbilical cord.

“Don’t borrow trouble,” Jackson murmured. He put his hand on the small of her back to get her moving inside.

But Bailey didn’t move a single step when she heard the loud noise.

A blast of some kind.

Everything happened fast. Too fast for her to figure out what was going on. One second she was standing, and the next moment she was on the floor of the sunroom where Jackson had pushed her.

She looked back at Jackson, ready to ask what was going on, but the next sound clarified things for her.

Something slammed into one of the sunroom panels and sent glass spraying over them. My God.

Someone was shooting at them.

Chapter Seven

Jackson pulled Bailey to the side of the sofa.

It wasn’t a second too soon.

Another bullet came tearing through the sunroom, shattering the glass and sending the dangerous spray of jagged pieces right at them.

“Caden!” Bailey shouted, covering her head.

“He’s in the panic room.” Jackson was beyond thankful for that. The panic room was bulletproof and impossible for anyone to penetrate, unless they knew the security codes. His son was safe.

Jackson couldn’t say the same for Bailey and him. Their lives were on the line.

Whoever the hell was doing this would pay and pay hard. Of course, the question was, who was firing those shots? And with all his safeguards in place, how the devil had anyone gotten onto the grounds?

“Not again,” Bailey mumbled. “Please God, this can’t be happening again.”

She couldn’t keep from remembering the hostage situation at the maternity hospital and reliving the nightmares that came with that fateful day. Jackson couldn’t stop the flashbacks, not for her or himself. Images of the bodies from the plane crash came back at him like lethal bullets. But he wouldn’t let that old trauma immobilize him and stop him from figuring a way out of this life-and-death situation.

“Stay down,” he warned Bailey, and he pushed her all the way to the floor.

Jackson tried to shelter her as best he could, but it was next to impossible. They were literally in a glass room, and the delicate wicker furniture didn’t provide much protection. Added to that, he didn’t have any weapons he could use to defend them.

More shots came, each of them eating through what was left of the glass and tearing into the furniture. Jackson made sure Bailey stayed flat on the floor so it would minimize the shooter’s kill zone, but he figured this measure wouldn’t save them for long.

He had to get Bailey out of there.

But how?

Jackson glanced back at the entry into the main house. The door was wide open, but it was a good twenty feet away. They could crawl to reach it, but that was twenty feet wide out in the open. A lot of bullets could come at them during that short space.

In between the din of the bullet barrage, Jackson could hear the shouts from inside the house. No doubt his staff was trying to figure out what to do. Someone had already called 9-1-1. Steven had almost certainly been alerted. Help was on the way.

But help might come too late.

The next round of bullets came directly at the sofa. And that told Jackson a lot about the shooter. He was probably using a rifle with a high-powered scope. In other words, the gunman knew exactly where Bailey and he were. It also told him something else.

The shooter might not even be on the estate.

It was possible their attacker was positioned in one of the tall trees that grew along the estate walls. As long as the walls themselves weren’t touched, it wouldn’t have triggered the security system and therefore wouldn’t have alerted anyone on his staff. Of course, Jackson had considered something like that would be possible, but since he’d spent his entire life without being shot at, he had never considered it to be a real threat.

But it was real now.

“What do we do?” Bailey asked.

She was shaking, but her voice was surprisingly strong and determined. Good. Because she would need every ounce of strength and determination to get out of this alive.

“We have to move,” Jackson told her, knowing that this might not be the right thing to do.

Hell, it was possible they didn’t have any right moves. But he couldn’t blindly accept that they were going to die today. Somehow, he had to figure out a way to stay alive for the sake of his son. He intended to raise his little boy, to love him, and Jackson wouldn’t let some SOB take away Caden’s father.

He glanced back at the entry that seemed to be getting farther away, and he spotted José, one of the gardeners. The terrified-looking man was holding a rifle, and he lifted it, no doubt questioning Jackson about what he should do.

Jackson wanted him to return fire, hoping it would give him an opportunity to get Bailey into the house.

“Can you get the rifle to me?” Jackson shouted.

The young man gave a shaky nod, and he got down into a crouching position so he could inch toward the entry.

More bullets slammed into the sofa. But not just there. A spray of shots went into the entryway where José was making his way toward them.

“Stop!” Jackson told José. “The shooter must be able to see you.”

Probably through a long-range scope on his rifle. And that meant, if the gunman could see José, he wouldn’t have any trouble homing in on Jackson and Bailey if they tried to dive through the entryway.

But what choice did he have?

They couldn’t just lie there and wait.

“Where’s Steven?” Jackson called out.

“On his way,” José relayed. “He was at the gate.”

No doubt ushering out their guests. Hopefully, Steven was armed and was already trying to pinpoint the shooter so he could try to take him out. Or at least create a diversion. And that gave Jackson an idea.

He could create his own diversion.

“Everyone inside, get down,” he instructed. Jackson had to yell over the sounds of the gunfire. “José, crawl toward the window and lift the rifle so it can be seen. Stay down though. Don’t get anywhere near the window.”

Because, if the shooter took the bait, it wouldn’t be long before the bullets went that way.

“Get ready to move,” Jackson told Bailey, and he got her into a crouching position so she could scramble to the entryway, a move that would happen only if the diversion worked.

The seconds crawled by, and with each one, Jackson had to fight to stay calm. Timing and a clear head were everything right now, and he had to focus solely on getting Bailey out of there.

“I’m lifting the rifle now,” José called out.

Jackson could no longer see the young man, or for that matter, the window where he had positioned himself. But he had immediate proof that José was there.

The shooter shifted his aim, and the bullets blasted through the window.

“Stay down!” Jackson reminded everyone. But as he was shouting out that order, he grabbed onto Bailey’s arm.

They had one chance at this. Just one. Because once they were out in the open, the shooter would no doubt turn those bullets back on them.

“Now!” Jackson shouted, making sure that Bailey heard him.

He turned, placing himself behind her and began to shove her toward the entry.

Bailey didn’t have time to think. She scrambled forward, with Jackson pushing her toward what she prayed would be safety. Somehow, they had to get out of this nightmare.

In the back of her mind, she realized that Jackson was protecting her. He had taken the most dangerous position, placing himself behind her like a human shield. Bailey didn’t want him to take that kind of risk, but it was too late to reverse things. The only thing that counted now was speed, because the sooner they got inside, the safer they would both be. She hoped.

Bailey prayed this wasn’t some full-scale attack. If so, Caden could be in danger.

Each step seemed to take a lifetime. Probably because she had no breath and her entire body was a tangle of nerves and adrenaline. They were just a few feet away when the bullets shifted again. Away from the window, and back to Jackson and her.

Several shots slammed into the jamb around the entryway and tore through the wood. Still, Jackson didn’t stop. He made a feral sound of outrage and rammed into her, shoving her through the entry.

Bailey landed hard on the floor, knocking what little breath she had right out of her, but she still managed to latch onto Jackson and haul him inside with her.

Jackson looped his arms around her and rolled to the side, away from the gaping entry. Some of the bullets ricocheted off the marble floor and careened into the walls and furnishings.

“Everybody get out!” Jackson shouted, and his staff began to scramble.

Jackson dragged her behind a large stone coffee table and pulled her back to the floor.

“José, I need that rifle. And I need you to take Bailey to the panic room. When you get there, give Tracy the code word, ‘silver rose,’ and she’ll let you in.” Then he turned to Bailey.

Somehow, she managed to shake her head. Bailey wasn’t objecting to the panic room order. She wanted to go there. She wanted to be as far away from those bullets as possible. But she wanted Jackson, José and anyone else in the house to go with her.

“What are you going to do?” she asked Jackson.

Every muscle in his body was rock-hard and primed for a fight. His face was misted with sweat despite the cold air gushing in through the broken glass.

“I’m going after this SOB,” Jackson insisted.

“No!” But she might as well have been talking to herself because Jackson motioned for José to switch places with him.

They did, and the moment José had hold of her arm, Jackson signaled for them to get moving.

“No!” Bailey repeated. “Think of Caden. He needs you.”

“I
am
thinking of Caden.” Jackson took the rifle and checked to make sure it was loaded. “José, get her out of here.”

Bailey wanted to argue. She wanted to convince Jackson not to do this, but another round of bullets sent José and her running for their lives. The shooter might not be able to see them inside the house, but with the bullets bouncing off all the marble and stone, it wasn’t safe to be anywhere near a window or exterior door.

Of course, that meant Jackson was right in the line of fire.

José had a death grip on her arm and sprinted with her toward the center of the house. She could still hear the gunfire. Heavy, thick blasts. Each of them potentially lethal. And she prayed Jackson would have backup soon.

“This way,” José told her, and he led her into a library that was on the same floor as the sunroom.

There were floor-to-ceiling shelves lined perfectly with books, but there was also a floor-to-ceiling window on the far center wall. José didn’t take her anywhere near that. He pressed a button beneath one of the shelves, and a small book-size monitor dropped down. Bailey immediately saw the nanny, Tracy Collier. She looked as terrified as Bailey was.

“Mr. Malone says I’m to tell you ‘silver rose,’” José said to the woman.

Tracy nodded and turned from the screen while she pressed in some numbers on a keypad behind her. A moment later, the shelf slid back to reveal a metal door. Bailey heard the locks disengage, and José opened it. Tracy was there, just on the other side, and the nanny was armed.

“Stay here,” José insisted. “I’m going to see if I can help Mr. Malone.”

Good. She wanted Jackson to have all the help he could get, but she had second and third thoughts about going into hiding while Jackson and José were taking all the risks.

“Mr. Malone’s orders,” José reminded her, and he pushed her inside and shut the door.

Bailey was ready to pound on the door, but then she looked around the room. Tracy and she weren’t alone. Two of the housekeepers were there as well, and they were standing against the far wall, apparently waiting for the nightmare to end.

The room wasn’t that large compared to the rest of the house. Probably twenty by thirty feet. There was a sofa, several chairs, a fridge, desk and a storage cabinet.

And then she saw Caden.

He was sleeping on a thick quilt stretched out on the carpeted floor.
Oh, mercy.

Again, she was hit with all the feelings of motherhood. All the things she had missed in the past four months. Bailey didn’t know if this baby was hers, but she felt the love pour through her heart.

“The sheriff just arrived,” Tracy whispered.

Bailey tore her gaze from the baby to look at the monitor set into the wall. Actually, it was a series of monitors, six of them in all, and they showed various parts of the estate.

“There,” Tracy said, pointing to the monitor that displayed the front gate. The sheriff’s vehicle was indeed there, along with two other cars, and they were making their way to the estate.

“What about Jackson?” Bailey asked. She frantically searched the screens but didn’t see him. She didn’t see the shooter either, and since the panic room was apparently soundproof, she couldn’t hear if there were shots still being fired.

It seemed to take forever, but Bailey finally spotted him. Jackson was out of the now-shredded sunroom and was in the rose garden. He had the rifle and had taken cover behind a marble statue.

“He shouldn’t be out there,” Bailey mumbled, and she put her fingers to her mouth to stop her lips from trembling.

Here, she barely knew Jackson, but he had risked his life for her. He had saved her from those bullets. And now he was outside, continuing to risk his life so he could make sure Caden would stay safe.

She glanced at Caden again and understood his need to protect that precious little baby. The gunman, whoever he was, had to be stopped. Killed, even. Bailey didn’t want a repeat attack.

Volleying glances between the baby and the monitors, Bailey watched as Jackson leaned out from the statue. He took aim.

And fired.

The recoil snapped his shoulder back, but he quickly re-aimed and fired again before taking cover. For a moment she thought he was going to repeat the process all over again, but he stopped and looked in the opposite direction.

Where the sheriff was approaching.

Two deputies got out of their vehicles and fanned out over the garden. She saw Steven, the estate manager. He was armed, and he followed behind one of the deputies. Along with the sheriff, they all began to walk toward the west fence, partly concealed by clusters of trees and shrubs.

The sheriff said something to Jackson and then motioned toward the estate. It was clear from Jackson’s expression that he was arguing, but he soon turned and began to race back into the house.

Bailey’s heart dropped.

My God. What was happening now? Had the gunman managed to get into the house?

“No one can break in here,” Tracy reminded her. “There’s another panic room where most of the household staff went, and even they can’t get into this one without the password and then me punching in the code to the locks.”