Delores Fossen - Christmas Guardian

Kinley grabbed a small suitcase and hurriedly packed everything she might need for a short stay, including the notes, which she took from inside the lining of a coat she had hanging in the closet. When she came out of the bedroom, Jordan was by the door peeking out the side window.

“Is he still there?” she whispered.

Jordan nodded. He reached out and ran his hand through her hair, messing it up. He did the same to his. No doubt so it’d look as if they’d just had a quick round of sex.

They walked out, their arms hooked around each other, and got into the car. Jordan drove away quickly. So did the other car.

Just as Jordan had predicted, it followed them.

“You’re sure this won’t make things more dangerous for my son?” she asked.

“I’m sure.”

So, that probably meant Maddox wasn’t at his house. But then, there’d been no indication that he was. Jordan likely had him tucked away somewhere. But where? And who was caring for him? It broke her heart to think that her little boy might not get enough hugs and kisses.

Because she’d already driven to Jordan’s house, she was familiar with the route. He lived in a subdivision within city limits but still secluded. It had pricy homes on massive lots, some of them several acres. Jordan’s was one of the largest in the neighborhood. A true Texas-size estate for a Texas millionaire.

Shelly had certainly made a strange choice when she involved Jordan in this.

“Is it true what you said about Maddox—that Shelly left him on your porch the night she died?” Kinley asked. Right now, she wanted every little detail she could learn about her son and what he’d gone through.

Jordan didn’t answer right away. He glanced at her first. “Yes.”

It was hard for her to picture that in her mind. Her baby literally left on a doorstep. “God, what did you think when you opened the door and saw a baby?”

“I thought he was my son.” He stared straight ahead and repeated that softly under his breath. “Then, with Shelly’s murder, it took me a few days to get around to the DNA test. I had Shelly’s DNA on file, since she was a former employee, and when I did the comparison, I learned he wasn’t Shelly’s. Nor mine.”

Was it her imagination or did he sound disappointed? Hurt, even?

But she had to be wrong about that.

Jordan was a ruthless businessman, along with being a rich player who enjoyed the company of lots of women. He would have taken care of her son, but she seriously doubted he would ever think of himself as a father.

“Who’s taking care of him?” Kinley asked.

She waited.

And waited.

He opened his mouth, and she thought she might finally learn an answer to one of her many questions, but before he could say anything, his phone rang.

Jordan didn’t waste any time answering it. “Cody,” he said after glancing at the screen. He took the turn toward his neighborhood. The street switched from four lanes to two, and though it was well lit with a line of streetlights, it felt isolated because the lots were so spacious.

She couldn’t hear Cody’s side of the conversation, but she could see Jordan’s reaction. She noticed his grip tighten on the wheel. Saw the muscles flicker in his jaw.

“You’re sure?” Jordan asked. Then he paused. “No. I’ll take it from here.” Another pause. “I need to ask you to keep this between us.”

A moment later, Jordan ended the call.

“What happened?” Kinley wanted to know when he didn’t offer any information.

“Do you know a guy named Anderson Walker?”

Kinley thought a moment. “No. That name doesn’t ring any bells. Why?”

“He’s the one following us.”

She glanced in the mirror. He was still following them. “What does he want?”

Jordan shrugged, but there was nothing casual about his body language. “He’s a P.I. who works for Burke Securities.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Burke Securities as in the Burke Dennison who bought your company?”

“The very one.”

Kinley shook her head. “Why does Burke have someone following us?”

Another muscle went to work in his jaw. “I don’t know, but I intend to find out.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean he’s not being very subtle. And he knows we’re on to him. If I just keep driving, it might send him the wrong message—that we have something to hide.” Jordan took his foot off the accelerator. “Get down now.”

Jordan spun the steering wheel around, causing his Porsche to do a hundred-and-eighty-degree turn. It was precise. As if he’d choreographed it, he bumped into the rear side of the black car and sent it into a spin.

Before Kinley could stop him, Jordan drew his gun and threw open the door.

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