A quick glance in the rearview mirror revealed his face was a granite mask, hard lines etched deep, his golden eyes twin chips of ice, glittering menacingly. It didn’t matter that he could scare anyone with his look; he felt murderous in that moment. He didn’t care about the two occupants of that car, both falling down drunk, pawing each other obscenely in front of everyone at the senator’s party, but he damn well wasn’t going to let them destroy his child.

Shaina Trent, society’s darling, jet-setter, life of the party and precious do-anything-for-daddy daughter of Josiah Trent, was carrying his son. How could he have been so damned careless? He had known exactly what she was when he’d bedded her. He had known both his family and hers had wanted the alliance. Each family suspected that he was the very thing they’d been seeking all along—a shifter—and they wanted his powerful blood to boost their fading abilities. Most of all, they wanted to regain control of him. He should have suspected something when Shaina had thrown herself at him—after all, she’d never looked at him before, always acting so superior and barely acknowledging him at the parties he’d attended in the past. Her daddy must have commanded his little girl to seduce Jake to get what they wanted—a baby.

He downshifted and put on a burst of speed as he caught another glimpse of the Porsche sliding sideways around a turn. His heart went to his throat. Shaina’s boyfriend was so drunk he stayed in the wrong lane through the entire turn. He doubted either even realized Jake was in pursuit.

Jake cursed himself for being such an idiot to ever allow himself to get in such a predicament. Desperate to find a way to shackle him, the two families had made an alliance and, like an idiot, he had fallen into their trap. A part of him even felt guilty and thought he deserved exactly what he got.

He had deliberately slept with Shaina, despising her father, yet all along she’d been using him just as he had been using her. He hadn’t been stupid enough to believe her when she told him she was on birth control, but he had been an idiot to use the condoms she’d produced. What none of them had figured out yet was he would gladly burn in hell before he would accommodate them. The treacherous bitch.

Planned pregnancy was the oldest snare in the book. It was too late now; he had to live with the consequences—and so did the rest of them. Both families—and Shaina—had seriously underestimated him. He had planned his revenge for years. He had everything in place. It wouldn’t take much to ruin either family financially and he wasn’t above using any means available to buy freedom for his child.

Jake slammed his open palm on the steering wheel. He should have stayed away from Shaina. He didn’t love her, didn’t even like her, but he just hadn’t been able resist thumbing his nose at Josiah.

He’d carelessly given them the baby they wanted, but he’d be damned if they’d keep him. Jake didn’t care whether the boy was a shifter or not. He would find a nurse, a decent one, to come in and raise him right. He couldn’t love the boy—the last vestige of anything as soft as love had been beaten out of him long ago—but eventually he’d find someone who could.

A muscle jerked along his jaw. He’d always been savage, clawing and fighting his way out of the cage his family tried to keep him in. There was no way in hell they were going to cage his child. His son would never know that unnatural, deceitful life. A nurse wasn’t a perfect solution, but it was the best Jake could do.

Careless, self-absorbed Shaina was doing nothing to protect the health of her unborn child, so here Jake was in California, chasing her down. He had the jet standing by to take her back to his ranch in Texas where his guards would keep her out of trouble and away from drugs and alcohol until the baby was born. He had a team of doctors at his disposal, the best his money could buy, and he was going to make certain the kid had the best possible start.

Jake swore viciously again. Shaina could drive off a cliff for all he cared, but he made it clear that he owned her father’s company, had bought up the stock, and he would ruin them all if they dared cross him. The child was his, bought and paid for. Shaina damn well was not going to endanger it. He had turned the tables neatly, ruthlessly, finding a bitter pleasure in all their shocked faces.

Shaina, damn her, had no right to drink herself silly and poison the unborn baby. She had no right to go off with a drunken fool when she was so close to delivery. She had thought herself safe, a thousand miles away from his home state, never dreaming he would be concerned enough about the baby to track her down.

With each passing mile, he shortened the distance between the Ferrari and Porsche, closing the gap steadily, relentlessly. He could see the convertible now, weaving all over the highway, crossing the center line, changing lanes, tires squealing a protest around every sharp curve. He was right above them, looking down, and he saw Shaina move her hand to caress the driver’s lap. The Porsche swerved again into the other lane.

His heart jumped, and an icy shiver feathered down his spine. He caught a glimpse of a little Volkswagen Bug puttering along, two turns ahead, right in the path of the oncoming car. Jake actually called out a warning, totally helpless to stop the inevitable.

The collision rocked the ground, shattering the peace of the night, a cacophony of terrible noises he would never forget. Grinding metal, the scream of brakes, the force of the vehicles coming together, folding like accordions. The sight and sounds sent chills down his spine. Sparks flew, the convertible tumbled over and over, spilling gas everywhere. The Volkswagen, a compacted scrap of twisted metal, slammed into the mountain, flames licking along its length and up along the dried grass.