Wild Stallion. Delores Fossen

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СКАЧАТЬ breath gusting, he caught onto her arm. “Mr. Malone says you’re to come with me,” he told her. “A man just climbed over the security wall. An intruder.”

      Oh, God. “Where is he?”

      He started to run with her in tow. “He’s headed to the main house.”

      Bailey didn’t know how she managed to hold on to her breath after hearing that. Was the intruder after the baby? Was that what Jackson’s threatening letter was all about? He was a very wealthy man, and someone might be attempting to kidnap the little boy for ransom.

      She had to help keep the baby safe, even if he wasn’t hers. And even if it meant putting herself in danger.

      Bailey didn’t ask where the man was taking her, but she did make sure he wasn’t armed. There was no visible weapon, and he wasn’t big or strong enough to be hired muscle. If she had to, and she might, she was fairly certain she could fight him off if he turned out to be someone who wasn’t concerned about the baby’s safety.

      They cut through a garden on the east side of the property. The man didn’t stop running. Neither did Bailey, though the icy December air was knifing through her lungs and making it hard to breathe. She hadn’t put on a coat for her escape, and the chill was slowing her down.

      She finally spotted the estate, but the man stopped next to some thick shrubs and checked around them before they ran the last hundred yards across the lawn to an east entrance. It was a sunroom decorated with plenty of lush green plants and pristine white furniture.

      “Miss Hodges,” someone said the moment they entered.

      Jackson Malone was standing there in the opening that divided the sunroom from the main house. Unlike when she’d seen him earlier in the foyer, he’d ditched his perfectly tailored midnight blue business coat and loosened his tie. His storm black hair was rumpled. His eyes were troubled.

      And he had a gun pointed at her.

      Bailey wanted to scream at herself. How could she have been so stupid? She’d bought the gardener’s story about an intruder, and in doing so, she’d come right back to the lion’s den.

      Jackson looked at the gardener who’d rescued her. “Thank you, José. Now go back to your quarters and lock the door. I don’t want anyone out on the grounds until we know what we’re up against.”

      The man gave a shaky nod, mumbled something in Spanish and hurried away, leaving Bailey alone with an armed man.

      “I would have gone after you myself,” Jackson said, as a threat, “but I didn’t want to leave my son.” He motioned for Bailey to follow him.

      She didn’t. Bailey stayed put. “Is there really an intruder?”

      “There is.” His tone left no room for doubt. He held up the sleek, multifunction cell phone he had in his left hand, and on the tiny screen she saw what appeared to be video feed from security cameras. The man was dressed in camouflaged clothing and a ski mask.

      And he was carrying an assault rifle.

      “My advice?” Jackson added. “Bullets can go through glass, so if I were you I’d move.”

      She glanced at the sunroom, three sides of which were indeed glass. Still, Bailey didn’t budge. Going inside could be just as dangerous as staying put. Jackson didn’t have his gun aimed at her exactly, but it was angled so that aiming it would take just a split second.

      “Is this some kind of trick?” she asked. “Do you want me dead and out of the way?”

      Jackson just stared at her. “Funny. I was about to ask you the same thing.”

      Bailey shook her head. “The last thing I want is you dead.” And she meant it.

      He stared her, those ice-gray eyes seemingly going right through her. “Get inside,” he ordered. “You might not value your life, but I’d prefer you stay alive so I can figure out who the hell you are.”

      She debated it, but in the end she couldn’t dismiss the part about bullets going through glass. Yes, despite his comment that he preferred her alive, Jackson Malone might indeed have murder on his mind, but right now Bailey felt safer with him than she did with the ski-masked intruder. She only hoped she didn’t regret trusting her instincts. She certainly didn’t have a good track record in that department.

      Bailey stepped out of the sunroom and into the main part of the house, and Jackson immediately closed the double doors and locked them. He pressed some numbers on a security system keypad, and then stepped in front of her to prevent her from going any farther.

      “We’ll wait here,” he insisted.

      Here was a casual living room with a butter-colored sofa. Floral chairs. A fireplace. There were toys in a basket on the hardwood floors.

      That caused her breath to catch.

      “Who’s the intruder?” Jackson asked her, checking the phone again.

      Bailey pulled her attention from the toys and that phone so she could shake her head. “I don’t know, but maybe he came here to kidnap the baby.”

      “Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you,” Jackson mumbled, making it sound like profanity. He shoved the gun into the back waist of his pants, crossed the room, pressed some buttons, and a bar opened from the wall. He poured himself a glass of something from a cut crystal decanter, tilted back his head and took the shot in one gulp.

      “You have someone after the intruder?” she asked. “Someone who can stop him from getting inside?”

      “I do. And my son has been taken to a panic room where no one can get to him. We’ve called the sheriff, and he’s on the way. Now, what does the intruder want?”

      Because her legs felt shaky, Bailey stepped to the side so she could lean against the wall. “I don’t know.”

      “Then guess,” he demanded. “And while you’re guessing, try to figure out how this intruder could be linked to you.”

      “To me?”

      “You,” he verified.

      He walked back to her and got close. Probably to violate her personal space and make her feel uncomfortable.

      It worked.

      Everything about him, from his clothes to his scent, to the liquor on his breath, screamed expensive, but that look he was giving her was from a powerful man who knew how to play down-and-dirty.

      An attractive man, she reluctantly admitted to herself.

      That’s the first thing Bailey had noticed about him when she saw his photo in the newspapers. With his perfectly cut, but a little too-long hair, Jackson Malone looked like a bad boy rocker turned billionaire. He was drop-dead handsome, and despite the lousy circumstances and her personal feelings about him, her opinion about his looks didn’t change. He was the kind of man women noticed, and she apparently wasn’t exempt from that.

      He glanced at her jeans pocket. “Why did you ask me about the two women in the photos?”

      It СКАЧАТЬ