Bucking Bronc Lodge 04 - Cowboy Cop (23 page)

He’d tried to deny it but he’d craved her for days now.

Finally she was in his arms. He ached to have her below him, whispering his name while he pounded himself inside her.

Driven by his hunger, he stripped off her shirt while she tore off his. Their jeans came next, the sound of her zipper sliding down an erotic tease that threatened to make him explode.

Somewhere in the distance, a voice murmured that this was wrong. That he should slow down. Show her some tenderness.

But Jordan’s breathy sighs and moans weren’t sounds of protest. In fact, she raked her nails over his bare chest as if she wanted him just as he wanted her.

That need fueled his desire even more, and he walked her backward and pressed her against the wall. Boots and socks flew off.

Her underwear came next. Fast and heady, he stripped her, drinking in the sight of her rosy nipples begging for his attention. His sex hardened as she ground herself into him and rubbed his thigh with her bare foot.

He cupped her butt in his hands, caressing her naked flesh and wishing he had the willpower to take it slow and easy, to pleasure her the way she deserved, but a raw ache throbbed through him.

He had to have her now.

She nipped at his neck, and he lowered his head and drew one nipple into his mouth, sucking it until she buckled and cried his name, begging him for more.

He slipped one hand between her legs, parting her thighs for his invasion. Her damp center sent a surge of blood through his groin, and his sex jutted out, thick and needy.

She shoved down his boxers, then wrapped one soft hand around his hard length and pulled him toward her.

He groaned, then lifted her with his hands until she wound her legs around him and he thrust into her.

One squeeze of her legs around him and he felt as if he might come. But he forced his body to still until he regained control.

Jordan had lost control herself though. She dug her fingers into his shoulders as she impaled herself on his length again, then lifted herself and did it once more. A moan of pleasure ripped from his gut, and the walls shook as she rode him hard, and he drove himself deeper and deeper into her.

He felt the first spasms of her orgasm as her muscles clenched his sex, and he tilted her head back, plunged his tongue into her mouth and tasted her one more time as she came apart in his arms.

The thrill of her cry piercing the air drove him to thrust harder, and he threw her on the bed, pulled her legs wide apart and plunged so deeply he felt her core.

Her body shuddered and shivered around him as he moaned her name and lost himself inside her.

* * *

P
LEASURE ROLLED THROUGH
Jordan in waves. But mingled with the pleasure, intermittent waves of reality rippled through her.

Miles sighed and rolled sideways, pulling her into his embrace, and she allowed herself to nestle in his arms for a few minutes. Emotions she had no business feeling stole through her thoughts.

She was in love with Miles.

She closed her eyes, wondering when it had happened, but she couldn’t remember one definable moment. It was all the little ones that had built up. The sexy look in his eyes when he spoke. The possessive, protective aura that radiated from him when it came to his son. The steely strength and determination to protect the world and seek justice for innocents.

He rubbed his forehead against hers and made a low sound in his throat. “I’m sorry, Jordan, I—”

“Shh.” She pressed her finger to his lips, then looked up at him and kissed him with all the love that had built in her heart. “We both needed that. No questions. No regrets.”

He searched her face for a long moment, then gave a small nod, his eyes blurred with tears that he wouldn’t let fall.

She took his hand and kissed his fingers one by one, then placed it over her heart. For a moment they lay entwined, each seeking strength and solace from the other. But his fingers slowly inched over her nipple, teasing it until it stiffened and hunger flared inside his eyes.

Hot need flooded her body with desire, and she kissed him again, then climbed on top of him and drove him to sweet oblivion once again.

An hour later, they collapsed into a deep exhausted sleep. But Jordan jerked awake to the sound of Miles’s phone buzzing on the nightstand where he’d dropped it.

Knowing Miles needed rest, she reached for it and pressed the connect button.

“It’s Blackpaw. Miles?”

“This is Jordan,” she said. “Miles is asleep. Finally.” Jordan explained about the night before and the search team they’d ordered.

“Dammit,” Blackpaw said. “I hope they don’t find anything. But I have some information for him.”

“Tell me and I’ll let him know.”

Blackpaw hesitated, then spoke in a gruff voice. “All right. Maybe it’s better he hear it from you. We arrested Ables.”

“Dugan’s half brother?”

“Yeah, and he confessed to killing June Kelly. He said he grew up in Dugan’s shadow and that he wanted to be like him. So he killed Kelly to free his brother. Then he wanted to hook up and work with him but Dugan ignored him and came after Miles.”

“Did he kill Timmy’s mother?” Jordan asked.

“No, Dugan did.”

Just as Miles suspected.

“There’s more. Ables gave me an address where he last saw their mother. It’s not too far from where you are now.” He recited the address, and she shook Miles as she disconnected.

“Wake up, Miles,” she said. “Come on, Blackpaw called and we have a new lead.”

“Timmy?”

She caressed his stubbled cheek with her hand. “I don’t know for sure, but it’s an address for Dugan’s mother.”

Miles vaulted off the bed and grabbed his clothes and jerked them on.

Hope jumped in Jordan’s chest as she dressed, too. Forget the shower. This might lead them to Dugan and Timmy.

* * *

M
ILES RUSHED INTO
the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face, not bothering to shower or shave. He hadn’t thought he’d sleep at all last night but making love with Jordan had worn him out.

They should probably talk about it, he thought, then dismissed the idea when he stepped into the bedroom and she rushed into the bathroom herself. Minutes later, they grabbed coffee and tortillas from the breakfast buffet in the motel, then jumped in his Jeep.

“You should have let me talk to Blackpaw,” Miles said, his tone gruffer than he’d intended.

“You were sleeping so soundly I wanted to let you rest.”

“You don’t have to take care of me.”

“What if I wanted to?” Jordan said with a defiant chin lift.

He fought a tiny smile. He liked her spunky and sassy.

Hell, he liked her any way. Especially naked.

Images of their lovemaking flashed in his mind, but the image of Timmy’s bloody T-shirt followed, making him feel guilty as hell for loving her when his son might be hurting.

No...he couldn’t think like that.

They lapsed into an awkward quiet as the miles passed and the sun rose to streak the weathered road with rays of morning light. Miles of more desolate land stretched before them. They passed signs leading to several resorts on the gulf, but left those behind as he turned onto a dirt road that was supposed to lead to farmland.

A truck filled with workers passed, another carrying chickens. Sweat beaded on his skin as he neared the address. He turned onto another dirt road that led to a dilapidated wooden house with chickens in the yard and a broken-down rusted truck parked to the side. Another truck sat half-hidden behind the house, the tail jutting out, revealing a metal storage bin in the cab.

Miles’s blood turned to ice.

Dugan was here. What about his little boy?

“This is it,” Jordan said.

Miles parked, drew his gun and ordered her to stay in the truck.

“Miles, I might be able to help.”

“It’s too dangerous,” he said, “Stay here until I check things out.” Until he found Dugan and killed him.

He didn’t want her to witness what he intended to do to the man.

Chapter Twenty

Miles eased up to the front door and peered inside the window. He spotted a den off a hallway that led to the kitchen. Very little furniture occupied the den, and what was there was ratty and old. A newspaper and coffee cup sat on a tattered coffee table though, indicating someone was in the house.

He peered down the hall and spotted the kitchen sink and stove, then a figure moving. Dugan. He was pacing back and forth waving a knife in his hand.

Anger and adrenaline churned through Miles, and he motioned for Jordan to stay put as he crept around to the back. His boots smothered the weeds, the stench of chickens permeating the air and making it hard to breathe.

Mud stained the glass windowpanes on the side of the house, and he inched closer to the back door. A small window insert offered him a view of Dugan again.

And an old woman who was tied to a wooden kitchen chair.

Dugan paused in front of her, ranting as he jabbed the knife at her in threatening, erratic motions while she trembled in fear. Her skin looked leathery, her face wrinkled and pasty, evidence she’d been a chain-smoker all her life. Patches of stringy gray hair hung down over her shoulders, her eyes sallow and scared.

Miles scanned the room, praying to see Timmy but he didn’t spot him anywhere. Praying his son was in another room, he inched around the house peeking in each window.

But all the rooms were empty.

Rage and grief suffused him, and he made his way to the back door again, then paused to listen. No signs of his son.

Furious, he kicked open the back door. “Put the knife down, Dugan, it’s over.”

Dugan spun around and waved the knife, his own eyes glazed with a crazy look. Then he reached behind the door and yanked Timmy in front of him.

Miles choked on a breath. Dear God, Timmy was alive.

But Dugan had the knife blade to his throat.

“Daddy?” Timmy whispered, his little chin quivering.

Miles held up a hand. “It’s okay, son, I’m here. Just be very still.”

Dugan leered at him. “Go away and let me finish what I came to do.”

“I know what your mother did to you, but Timmy had nothing to do with it,” Miles said, searching his mind for the things Jordan had told him. “Let my little boy go and we’ll talk about your mother.”

“You’re crazy, son, just like I always thought,” the old woman said through a smoker’s cough. “Good-for-nothing, lying murderer.”

“Shut up!” Dugan swirled around, gripping Timmy tighter, then lunged at the woman. “You’re the good-for-nothing one, you whore.”

“Robert,” Jordan said softly.

Miles didn’t dare move, but somehow he was grateful she was there behind him. Maybe she could defuse the situation by talking to Dugan.

Although judging from the looks of him, he had delved too deeply into his delusional state for her to break through.

“Robert,” she said again in a soothing tone. “We talked about this before, remember? You don’t want to hurt Timmy. He’s just a kid like you were back when you wanted someone to rescue you.” Jordan eased up beside him, her demeanor so calm that it helped to stem Miles’s churning stomach. “You can do that for Timmy now. You can save him and be his hero.”

Miles ground his teeth to keep from calling Dugan the murdering bastard he was.

“If you do,” Jordan continued in a gentle tone, “I’ll let everyone know what you did for him.”

“The whores had to die,” Dugan shouted, then waved the knife at his mother’s face. “They had to die for their sins.”

“Just release Timmy,” Jordan said. “You aren’t angry at him. It’s your mother that you’re mad at for how she treated you.”

Dugan slowly pivoted his head to look at her, then down at Timmy, whose face was pale, his eyes huge in his little face. “Please, mister,” Timmy said. “I wanna go home with my daddy.”

“See, Timmy has a father that cares about him, that will treat him right,” Jordan continued. “I know you wanted that all along, didn’t you, Robert? You wanted your daddy to come and rescue you from your mother and what she put you through.”

Dugan nodded, a tear slipping down his ruddy cheek. He had once looked polished and smug, but now he looked like a sick, crazed animal caught in a trap.

“Come here, Timmy.” Jordan eased closer and held out her hand. “Let him go, Robert, and you can be a savior, like the man you always wanted to save you.”

Dugan suddenly released Timmy, and Timmy ran toward Miles, but Dugan grabbed Jordan by the arm. Miles jerked Timmy behind him, then his gaze met Jordan’s. She gave a quick nod as if she’d read his mind and knew he was going to shoot.

A second later, Jordan ducked and he fired. The bullet slammed into Dugan’s chest. He looked shocked for a moment, then his hand flew to his chest where blood pooled, and he staggered back against the kitchen sink.

Jordan jerked away and raced toward him. Miles caught her, and she grabbed Timmy and cradled him against her, pulling him back toward the opened door.

The old woman muttered a string of profanity, berating Dugan and spilling hatred for her own son. “Got what you deserved,” she said, then broke into another terrible cough.

Dugan suddenly lunged toward Miles, but Miles fired another round, and Dugan slumped to the floor with an anguished cry at his mother’s feet.

She shoved his body away with her foot, and Dugan rolled over and looked up at her, blood seeping from his chest. “It was your fault,” he choked out. “All those women... I wanted to kill you instead.”

“Go to hell,” the old woman muttered. Then she turned her head toward Miles. “Untie me now.”

Miles glared at her, the disturbing inclination to let her rot for what she’d done to her son eating at him. She had started the chain of events that had led to so many senseless deaths, to Dugan’s sickness.

And to the fact that Miles had almost lost his son.

But he was a man of the law, and he knew he had to do the right thing. His son was watching, and he’d seen enough violence and evil in his lifetime. Miles wanted to be a man he would be proud of.

Then his son whispered his name, and Miles knew he had a second chance.