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They didn’t pause. Leading the way, Raymond rushed them through the foyer and back through the hall to the small office he had taken Bailey to earlier.
Once the door was closed and locked behind them, John set her on her feet, and for the first time she caught a glimpse of his furious face. His eyes were like thunderclouds, his face set into a dangerous scowl as he turned on Raymond.
“What the fuck is going on here?” he snarled in Raymond’s face.
Raymond, surprisingly, seemed to have paled. Concern marked his expression as his gaze roved quickly over her.
“I’m fine,” she snapped, glaring back at him as he moved back marginally. “Damn. You two act like I’ve never been shot at before.”
“Not here, not like this.” Raymond shook his head in a quick, jerky motion. “You should have never been targeted.”
“Well, she was,” John snapped. “And I want to know why. Now, Raymond.”
“We’ll know why.” Raymond stepped back as his cell phone rang. Jerking it from the pocket of his jacket, he flipped it open before pressing it to his ear and turning his back on them.
“She’s fine,” he said quickly. “I have her secure. Have they found the shooter yet?”
Bailey glanced at John as they listened to the conversation.
“How the hell am I supposed to know who it is?” he snapped suddenly. “My best guess would be one of the competitors. I warned you they wouldn’t take kindly to losing out on the deal so quickly . . . Fine. I’ll take care of it . . . Just let me know.”
He disconnected the call before turning back to them.
“Professional brokers don’t attempt assassination because they lost out on a deal,” John snapped, his gaze thunderous as he rose to his feet, glowering back at Raymond. “If anything happens to her, Greer, you can bet your ass that the loss of reputation that your employer will suffer won’t be easily regained. I’ll make certain of it.”
“Don’t threaten me, Vincent,” Raymond warned him, his voice deepening in anger. “This is a risk you take when you play the game. She knows it as well as you do.”
“Like hell.” John was in his face as Bailey rose to her feet.
She almost rolled her eyes at the testosterone filling the room as well as the male posturing going on here. As though they thought yelling at each other would actually solve the problem here.
“John, enough.” Bailey stepped between them before the confrontation could actually turn to blows. “Raymond.” She turned to the other man. “Check Ralph Stanford’s whereabouts. If he’s in the mansion, then have your men question if he was here during the time of the shooting. I would bet he’s your shooter.”
Both men turned to her now.
“What the hell makes you think it was Stanford?” Raymond snarled.
She did roll her eyes at that. “You should check the reputations of the men you’re considering.” She shook her head. “Stanford doesn’t like games of competition. He’s prone to even the playing field with a bullet whenever possible.”
“He was warned,” Raymond growled.
“Perhaps not strenuously enough,” she pointed out as she turned back to John. “Please inform the chauffeur that we’re heading out, again. I’m not standing around here and waiting for the bloody little show sure to be played out if they actually manage to catch him.”
“You’re as stubborn and hard-headed as ever,” Raymond accused her as she and John headed to the door.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She waved her hand over her shoulder. “Goodnight, Raymond, and please inform your boss that I haven’t left happy tonight. He owes me.”
CHAPTER 10
BAILEY LAY STILL AND SILENT in the bed when John entered the bedroom. She watched him, her gaze devouring him as he stood at the foot of the bed and stared back at her. There was a darkness to his expression that didn’t make sense, a heavy brooding silence that surrounded him.
As though he was holding back some part of himself, unwilling to allow her to see it, or to see the implications of it.
He had been quiet since leaving the party. His entire demeanor had shifted, turning dark and dangerous in the wake of the attempt on her life.
“Did you call your buddies and inform them of tonight’s events?” she asked him, careful to keep her tone casual.
“Not yet.” There was a growl in his voice, an underlying tone of warning that she was certain she was going to ignore. As she watched him, her heart clenched, emotion welling inside her as she fought to hold back years’ worth of grief and loneliness.
