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  Bailey gasped and jumped back even farther, banging into a chair which, in turn, rammed into the coffee table. The pile of books toppled to the floor. The noise distracted her for just a second, and when her attention went back to the window, she saw Sidney running.

  Oh, God.

  He was running toward the house. Bailey stepped back even more and took aim at the front door. But Sidney didn’t come onto the porch. Instead, he headed in the direction of the backyard.

  Bailey turned to hurry toward the kitchen door, in case he tried to break in there, but she saw something else that stopped her in her tracks.

  Another man.

  It was Tim.

  He had his gun drawn and was running after Sidney.

  Her breath rattled in her chest, and Bailey raced to the kitchen. There was no sign of Sidney or Tim.

  Where had they gone?

  Bailey moved closer to the window but tried to keep some distance between her and the glass. She still couldn’t see the men, but she heard something. Something or someone bashed against the side of the house, just on the other side of the wall. There were windows, but she didn’t go closer to them.

  She tried the house phone again. Still dead. Her cell phone wasn’t working yet, either. So, all she could do was stand there, wait and pray.

  Bailey didn’t have to wait long.

  There was another sound, as if someone had rammed into the wall again. And then she caught the movement from the corner of her eye.

  Tim.

  He staggered onto the back porch.

  He had his hand clutched to his chest, and the front of his white shirt was soaked in blood.

  PARKER RAN AS FAST AS HIS BODY would allow, but even that wasn’t nearly fast enough. He wished he could fly over the logjam of people on Main Street.

  “Move!” he shouted.

  Some got out of his way, but most probably didn’t even hear him. The high-school band was marching by, and the music was almost deafening. His shouts blended with the cheers and other sounds of people having fun.

  Parker pushed his way through the crowd. He was half-crazy now with fear, and the only thing he could think of was getting to Zach so he could save him. His boy needed surgery, the nurse had said. Papers had to be signed before that could happen.

  He broke through the line of people and nearly ran headfirst into a float. It was creeping along, and Parker had to wind his way around the back of it to cross to the other side. The crowd was still just as thick there, but he had to get through so he could reach the end of Main Street.

  Each step was a challenge, like walking through mud with lead boots. He shouted again for people to move, but it did no good. The only thing he could do was keep trying because every inch was a victory. Soon, he’d be at the sheriff’s office and afterward on the way to the hospital. Then, he would have more details.

  The first question he would ask was about Zach’s condition. Whatever the answer, there had to be a solution. Parker was ready to sign the damn papers, donate blood, whatever it took, so that his son would live. Then, when he was sure Zach was out of danger, he needed to call Bailey and find out if his replacement had arrived.

  “Bailey,” he mumbled.

  She had to be scared out of her mind, too, and Parker wished there had been a way for him to bring her with him. But after being sardined in this crowd, he was glad she was safe at his house.

  Safe.

  The word went through his head like a bullet that had been fired. His job was to keep Bailey safe and what were the odds that while he was trying to do just that, his son would be involved in an accident that would leave him in critical condition?

  Parker shook his head.

  Zach and he either had the worst luck on earth, or else… That or else went through his head.

  It was unthinkable, but Parker had to consider it at least. He took out his phone, not that he could hear anything, but he continued to make his way through the people as he hit the button to call Zach’s cell.

  Parker heard the phone ring. Barely. Heard it ring a second time, as well.

  Then, someone answered.

  For just a split second Parker thought it might be someone from the hospital or maybe one of the emergency responders to the accident.

  But it wasn’t.

  “Dad?” he heard Zach say.

  Parker froze. He couldn’t believe he was hearing his son’s voice. Was this some kind of trick his mind was playing on him? “Zach? Is that you?”

  “Dad, if that’s you, I can’t hear you. Sounds like you’re right in the middle of the parade.”

  “Son, are you all right?” Parker shouted. “Where are you?”

  “I’m okay. I’m in front of the sheriff’s office, where you said I could watch. I haven’t left, I promise. What’s wrong, Dad? Why do you sound so funny?”

  Oh, hell. This couldn’t be happening. But it was. Part of him was relieved to the bone that his son was all right, that he hadn’t been in an accident. However, another part of him knew this spelled trouble.

  For Bailey.

  “Just stay where you are!” Parker switched directions and started to run. He prayed he wasn’t too late to save her.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Bailey watched in horror as Tim staggered across the back porch.

  Oh, mercy.

  Even though she hadn’t heard a shot, it certainly looked as if that’s what had happened. Or maybe he’d been stabbed.

  Either way, something bad had happened to him.

  She could only guess that Sidney had been the one who had attacked Tim. But where was he? Was he still out there waiting to strike?

  She could see Tim clearly through the window. He had his phone in his left hand. His gun, in his right. His face was covered with sweat, and there was all that blood on the front of his shirt.

  He reached out to her. Their gazes connect for just a second.

  And then he collapsed on the porch.

  Bailey gasped and forced herself to move. Was he dead? She leaned closer to the window and saw that Tim was still moving.

  She knew that opening the door was a huge risk, but it was one she had to take. She couldn’t stand there and let Tim bleed to death. Maybe, just maybe, his phone had service so that she could call for help. It would take ages for an emergency vehicle to get through the parade, but she had to try.

  Bailey kept a grip on the gun she’d taken from Parker’s cabinet, and she disengaged the security system so she could ease open the door. She braced herself for Sidney to jump out at her. This could be exactly what he wanted her to do so he could take his revenge for her firing him.

  With a death grip on her gun, she hesitated in the doorway and glanced all around the yard. To the trees. The shrubs. Even the greenbelt where Parker had left minutes earlier.

  No sign of Sidney.

  Maybe he’d run after he had shot Tim.

  Tim was facedown on the porch, just inches away. He groaned and lifted his head slightly. It was risky to move him since it could worsen his injuries, but there wasn’t a choice. They couldn’t stay on the back porch because Sidney might return and kill them both.

  Bailey caught onto Tim’s shoulder, turned him on his back and pulled hard on his arm. It didn’t work. He was a lot heavier than she was, and she couldn’t make him budge. Rather than spend another second out in the open, she slid her gun inside the house and onto the floor so she could use both hands to maneuver the dead weight.

  Finally, she got him in.

  But in wasn’t good enough. Bailey had to drag Tim across the kitchen, deep enough into the room so she could shut the door and lock it. Sidney Burrell was big and strong, and a locked door probably wouldn’t hold him back if he truly wanted to get inside, but she didn’t want to make this any easier for him.

  Bailey took the time to punch in the code to rearm the security system. Even though the phones weren’t working, maybe the system was still being monitored. If Sidney broke through that door, hopefully
the security company would alert the sheriff.

  “I have to use your phone,” she said to Tim. He had it clutched in his left hand, and he was still moaning. He needed medical attention, and he needed it fast.

  She dropped to her knees and wrenched the phone from him. Her stomach knotted when she looked on the screen and saw No Service.

  Oh, God.

  What now?

  Bailey forced herself not to panic. Her first-aid skills were limited to bandaging scraped knees and minor cuts from accidents on the Cradles to Crayons’ playground. This wasn’t minor. There was way too much blood for that.

  Dreading what she might see, she caught onto the sides of Tim’s shirt and ripped it open. The buttons flew in the air, pinging against the tiled floor when they landed around Bailey and him.

  There was some blood on his chest, not nearly as much though as she’d expected, but it was more than enough to require Bailey to take a deep breath before she could continue. What she couldn’t see was the point of entry for the bullet, and she needed to find it so she could apply some pressure and stop the bleeding.

  “Where did Sidney shoot you?” she asked, turning him slightly on his side so she could examine him.

  “He didn’t,” Tim answered.

  Bailey’s gaze whipped in the direction of his face, but it was already too late. Tim came off the floor, dragging her up with him.

  And he put the gun to her head. “Now we can have some fun,” he growled.

  PARKER COULDN’T PRESS IN Bailey’s phone number fast enough. He had to warn her and warn her now that she was in danger. But her phone didn’t ring. Instead, he heard the recorded message.

  Service is temporarily unavailable.

  What the hell did that mean?

  Parker cursed and tried his home phone. It wasn’t an identical message, but it was close. Something was definitely wrong, maybe the lines had even been jammed, because that phone had worked less than fifteen minutes ago.

  He considered calling the sheriff next, but he was wasting precious time. So, he ran, fighting his way back through the crowd.

  While he ran, Parker said a prayer of thanks for his son’s safety, but he also cursed himself.

  He should have seen this coming.

  Bailey’s stalker had been relentless, and whoever he was, he must have known that the Fourth of July was the perfect day to strike. The sheriff and deputies were tied up with the parade. The streets were closed, making it difficult for the authorities to respond to a 9-1-1-call. And now the SOB had managed to get Bailey’s bodyguard out of the house.

  That call about Zach being in an accident had done the trick.

  The stalker had probably paid someone to make the call. Hell, the guy might have been watching the house when Parker went running outside to get to the hospital. He could have already broken in by now.

  Parker ran faster, so fast that it felt as if his heart might burst in his chest.

  He reminded himself that Bailey had a gun. Or at least he hoped she’d had time to get it out of the locked cabinet before all hell had broken loose. Maybe she’d even had time to call the sheriff before the phones had stopped working. She certainly hadn’t called him, and Parker was actually hoping the non-service for the phones was the reason she hadn’t communicated with him.

  Of course, he also had to consider the possibility that the stalker had incapacitated her in some way.

  His blood turned cold, and the acid rose in his throat.

  Parker couldn’t bear the thought of someone hurting Bailey. Or worse. He could lose her and all because he’d been stupid enough to fall for a crank call.

  He battled his way through the last part of the crowd and raced to the greenbelt. Parker drew his gun and mentally prepared himself for the fight.

  The trees and branches in the greenbelt were heavy with foliage. Parker hoped that would help conceal him in case the stalker was watching for his return. He raced behind the massive live oaks, using them for cover until he made it to his backyard.

  He glanced around. This was the same spot the gunman had used to set up that remote-control gun, and he could see the kitchen windows while still maintaining cover.

  What he couldn’t see was Bailey.

  The door was closed, maybe a good sign. Maybe the stalker hadn’t struck yet. Or maybe he was inside. Parker had to get closer so he could find out.

  He kept his gun ready and ran to the back porch. He braced himself for gunfire but there was nothing. Just silence.

  And then he saw the blood.

  There. On the white-painted porch floor, there were drops of blood. But whose? He nearly lost his breath thinking that it might be Bailey’s.

  The rage and pain boiled up inside, and Parker had to fight his primal instincts to bash down the door. He couldn’t give in to the emotion. There was a chance that he could use the element of surprise and sneak up on this guy. After all, the stalker thought Parker was on the way to the hospital, and he might believe he had more time.

  Time with Bailey.

  That required a deep breath, and Parker hurried to the other side of the porch so he could look in the window from a different angle. He saw more blood.

  Lots of it.

  Parker choked back a groan and followed the trail, praying that he wouldn’t find Bailey’s body at the end of it.

  It didn’t take him long to realize that something was definitely wrong. He wasn’t a blood-spatter expert, but the drops didn’t appear to be in the right pattern for someone bleeding out. No. It was as if someone had dribbled the blood on the porch.

  But why?

  Had the stalker done that to scare Bailey? Was this just another act of vandalism? Parker wanted to believe that, but everything in his gut told him otherwise.

  Whatever was going on, it was bad.

  Parker continued to follow the blood, but he kept watch at the window. He listened too for any sound that would give him a clue as to what was going on.

  He soon got that clue.

  When he reached the edge of the house, he saw the body. The sickening dread clawed away at him, and he made himself look closer.

  It wasn’t Bailey.

  Thank God.

  The body was male. It was Sidney Burrell, and from the looks of him, he’d been shot at point-blank range in the chest.

  Parker swallowed hard. Had Bailey heard the shot and come out? Maybe she was hiding inside. He had to hold on to that hope because the alternative wasn’t something he could handle right now.

  He stepped onto the porch, trying not to make a sound, and he looked into the kitchen. Parker didn’t see anyone, and there was no sign of a struggle. His cup of coffee was still sitting undisturbed on the counter.

  Maybe his gut was wrong.

  If so, if Bailey was safe and sound, then Parker intended to pull her in his arms, kiss her and tell her exactly how much he cared for her.

  He moved past the window, heading toward the door. But the shadow caught his eye. He looked harder and rethought that. It wasn’t a shadow. There was a person in between the kitchen and the small laundry room.

  “Bailey?” he softly called out.

  He waited, hoping that she would answer. But she didn’t. However, there was some movement.

  Parker moved closer to the window and saw someone. Not Bailey. It was a man, and he was stripping off his shirt. His back was to Parker so he couldn’t see the man’s face. It could be Chester Herman or Tim. Hell, it could be a total stranger. But Parker did see something else.

  The gun in the man’s hand.

  And the blood on his stark white shirt.

  That jacked up his heart rate.

  Where was Bailey? Had this SOB done something to her?

  Parker started to bolt toward the back door so he could kick it in, but he stopped when the man finally moved. The guy stepped back just a few inches into the kitchen.

  Just enough for Parker to see Bailey.

  She was against the laundry-room wall. She was alive,
thank God. Parker couldn’t see any injuries, and she was glaring at the man who was now in the process of putting on one of Parker’s black T-shirts.

  Parker didn’t care why he was doing that. He only wanted to get Bailey safely out of there.

  But how?

  Was this man planning to take her somewhere? Was that why he’d changed from his blood-stained shirt? Parker was betting the blood wasn’t his. It probably belonged to the now-dead Sidney Burrell.

  Bailey’s glare got worse, and she looked ready to launch herself at the man. Since her captor was armed, Parker didn’t want her to do that. No. He needed to get into the house and put an end to this.

  Parker took one last look at the situation so he could assess the best way to get inside. But he also kept Bailey in his line of sight. That’s how he was able to see the change in her expression. Her glare softened. Her eyes widened.

  She’d seen him.

  Parker knew instantly that was a mistake, and he got his gun ready. He didn’t have time to adjust his aim.

  The man turned and fired a shot directly at Parker.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Bailey screamed for Parker to get down, but it was too late.

  Tim turned, aiming the gun he’d rigged with a silencer, and the bullet blasted through the window. Glass flew everywhere, and Parker disappeared from sight. Bailey didn’t know if he’d been shot or if he’d managed to get away in time.

  Bailey launched herself at him. She didn’t have a weapon. Tim had kicked her gun into the hall. But she did have her hands and body. And she also had the rage that she let fuel her attack. She was not going to stand by and let Tim get off another shot at Parker.

  She didn’t recognize the sound that came from her mouth, but it obviously alerted Tim. He swung back around, but before he could aim the gun again at her, Bailey put down her head and plowed right into him.

  It was like hitting a wall.

  He was solid and had obviously honed his body to be a lethal weapon. Even putting her entire weight into her launch, Bailey still didn’t knock him to the floor. Not good. She’d counted on a hard fall in the hopes she could dislodge the gun from his hand.