Wild Stallion Read Online Free

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 was a simple question; and unlike many questions, Bailey actually knew the answer to this one, but she had to debate how much to tell him. She could just come