A child that had come into his life just two weeks after the hostage situation and the Amber Alert.
“Yes,” Evan said, as if he knew exactly what Jackson was thinking. “Bailey Hodges’s baby is the one the cops couldn’t find after they rescued the hostages.”
Jackson’s stomach twisted into a cold, hard knot.
“A coincidence,” Jackson mumbled.
“Could be. Caden’s four months old. The age is right, but the adoption lawyer you’re using is reputable.”
Still, it was a private adoption, and there’d been room for some loopholes. None that he knew about.
But that didn’t mean there hadn’t been some.
That’s the reason he’d been checking and double-checking the paperwork. In fact, he’d had a conversation with Ryan Cassaine, the attorney, just the day before. Jackson hadn’t wanted to have a problem arise down the road. He wanted to confront any possible issues now, and work them out before the adoption became final in less than a week.
“The lawyer wouldn’t have dealt in stolen babies,” Evan added. “Ryan Cassaine went to law school with Sybil, and she had nothing but high praise for him.”
“Make sure everyone else feels the same about him,” Jackson insisted. And he cursed. This couldn’t be happening. Caden was his son in every way that mattered.
Bailey Hodges’s lost child had nothing to do with them.
Jackson replayed the look in her eyes. The cryptic warnings. The strange conversation. And he prayed he was right—that this was all just some bizarre coincidence that could be explained away.
“There’s more,” Evan continued. “The cops are concerned about Miss Hodges. She’s apparently been conducting her own investigation into her son’s disappearance. She’s hired someone to hack into files. She’s been following the suspects, so much so that one of them got a restraining order.”
Jackson shrugged. “Her behavior is understandable. She wants to find her son.”
“I agree. But there’s more. Not long after the hostage incident ended, someone tried to kill her. The cops think it was the gunmen or their boss.”
This wasn’t helping his decision to go after her. It was only creating more sympathy for the woman. “But the threat is over, now that the gunmen and their boss are dead, right?”
“Maybe.” And Evan paused, the moments crawling by. “The last time she spoke to the cops, she said someone was still following her.”
Hell.
“Was the threatening letter a warning about me?” she’d asked.
Now, he understood why she wanted to know. But she’d also told Jackson that she couldn’t stay away, that she had to know the truth about him.
Him.
Had she meant Caden?
Cursing even more, Jackson headed for the door so he could try to figure out what was going on. But he got there just in time to see Bailey Hodges driving away in the work van she’d ridden into the estate.
Jackson clicked off the call with Evan so he could phone Steven Perez, his estate manager, and have someone shut the front gates. Bailey Hodges probably wasn’t headed to the address on her driver’s license, and with her suspicions about someone following her, she likely wouldn’t be an easy woman to find. Jackson didn’t want to lose her.
But he was damn concerned about who she might really be.
His house manager answered, but Jackson didn’t get a chance to issue the order to shut the gate.
“We have a problem, sir,” Steven said. “An exterior sensor was tripped, so I checked the security feed. We have an intruder.”
That didn’t ease the knot in his stomach. “You don’t mean the decorator in the van, do you?”
“No, sir. I mean the person who just scaled the west fence on the back side of the property. He’s armed, and he’s making a beeline for the estate.”
Chapter Two
Bailey blinked back the tears. She couldn’t cry. She’d save those tears for later. For now, she needed to get off the Malone estate and away from whoever had been alerted because of Jackson Malone’s suspicions about her.
Her face had no doubt been caught on a security camera. She’d anticipated cameras of course, but she hadn’t anticipated that she would alarm the estate owner to the point where he would have her investigated.
It’d been a huge mistake to come here today.
She wanted to kick herself for not being able to resist the chance to see the baby that Jackson Malone was adopting. Now, her weakness had put her in a position where she had to regroup. Heaven knows how long it would be before she got another opportunity to get back on the grounds and see the baby.
The estate road leading to the highway was a series of deep curves, and she had to ease up on the accelerator. She certainly couldn’t risk crashing into one of the massive pecan trees that were on each side of her.
An injury could delay her search.
Bailey spotted the wrought iron gates just ahead. In only a few seconds she’d be on the highway where she could turn onto one of the side roads and get out of sight of anyone that Jackson would send to follow her.
But the gates started to slide shut.
Her heart went to her knees, and despite the danger from the trees, she hit the accelerator. She had to make it through them before they closed. If not, Jackson might have her arrested for trespassing.
Bailey took the last curve, the tires squealing in protest at the excessive speed, and for just a moment she lost sight of the gates. When she came out of the other side of the turn, her heart did more than drop.
The gates closed right in front of her.
Bailey slammed on the brakes. She smelled the rubber burning against the asphalt. Her body lurched forward, the seatbelt digging into her stomach and chest. And then there was the sound. Metal slamming into metal when the front of the van collided with the wrought iron.
The airbag deployed, smacking into her and pinning her against the seat. Bailey didn’t take the time to determine if she was hurt. She had to get out of there now. There was a footpath gate next to the wrought iron ones, and she might be able to leave that way.
She fought with the airbag and managed to shove it aside. Maybe because her hands were shaking, getting out of the seatbelt was no easy feat either. She finally got her fingers to cooperate and she disengaged the lock. Ready to run, Bailey threw open the door.
But she didn’t get far.
A rail-thin young Hispanic man came bursting through the shrubs and trees. She recognized him. He was with the estate gardening crew who
