Safe In His Arms (Manhunt) (2 page)

Six months later

Texas Ranger Sergeant Alex Townsend scrubbed a hand over his face as he studied the police report on his computer.

Three inmates escaped the Huntsville State Penitentiary when a fire broke out in the prison a few hours ago.

 All three prisoners are considered armed and extremely dangerous.

Mug shots appeared on the screen with the inmates’ names listed below the photos.

Forty-year-old Larry Buckham was serving a life sentence for murder. Twenty-seven-year-old Robert Simpleton was on death row for the brutal slaying of three girls outside of Austin. And thirty-year-old Geoffrey Jones was serving a fifteen-year sentence for the vicious assault and attempted murder of his wife Mia.

A statewide manhunt is underway.

Alex’s throat tightened. The last man, Geoffrey Jones – that had been Alex’s case. The images of Mia’s delicate face, bruised and battered from the beating she’d taken from her husband, flashed in his head.

Truth was, the image had haunted him ever since he’d met Mia.

She was petite, barely five-three, with ebony hair that flowed down her back and the biggest chocolate brown eyes he’d ever seen. Eyes that had felt too much pain at the hands of a man who proclaimed to love her.

Fragile as she’d appeared the first time he’d seen her lying in that hospital bed with barely an inch on her that wasn’t black and blue, and knife wounds that covered her arms and stomach, she’d turned out to be a courageous little bundle in court.

For once, the justice system had worked. When her lawyer had flashed the photos the police had snapped when she’d been brought into the ER, the jury’s reaction had been audible shock.

Thankfully Jones’s money, fancy law degree, and charming smile hadn’t swayed the jury.

Even the bastard’s show of undying love for his wife hadn’t fooled them. They’d recognized his declaration of devoted love for what it was – a sick man’s obsession and need for control.

They’d found Jones guilty within a half hour after going into deliberation.

Which had pissed off Jones royally. He was accustomed to always having his way. Living in style. And having others bow to his commands,

Alex stood, swiping his hand down his chin. Dammit. Now the man was loose, he knew exactly where he would go.

To find Mia.

Alex muttered a curse and strode through the bullpen, his hand gripping his phone and checking for Mia’s current address as he rushed down the stairs and outside to his car.

The prisoners had escaped the night before around midnight. It was six a.m. now.

Meaning Jones had hours on him. Hours to track down Mia.

He had to hurry.

Mia rode the chestnut across the Crossties Ranch, Crossties because of the two families who’d joined in marriage after a long family feud. Henry McCauley and his wife Joy were getting up in age and needed help with exercising and training their horses, and she’d jumped at the chance.

She’d never felt freer in her entire life.

No cell phone in her hands at all times in case Geoff needed to know where she was. No one watching over her shoulder like a hawk to make sure she kept the house spic and span. No one forcing her to smile for his friends and then punishing her later because he’d misread a smile as flirtation. No one telling her what she could and couldn’t do as if she was a child.

No one reprimanding her for not being the perfect wife.

In fact, horseback riding was one of the things Geoff had hated. And if he hated it, they hadn’t done it.

She hadn’t been allowed.

If only she’d seen that side of him before the nuptials. But no, he’d been a charismatic gentlemen who’d wooed her with gifts, flowers, fancy dinners and compliments.

Naïve her. Having grown up with a father who’d skipped out when she was two and a mother who’d faded into a booze bottle, she’d been completely snowed by Geoff’s attention.

He’d held his deep, dark secret close to the vest until after the honeymoon.  Twelve months, twenty-two days and sixteen hours. That’s how long their marriage had lasted.

Twelve months, twenty-two days and sixteen hours too long.

Unlike the McCauleys who were going on fifty years now. Such a sweet couple. Joy liked to cook and Henry oversaw the cattle side of the business. At one time, between the ranch hands, cook, and vet they kept on retainer, they’d had nearly a hundred employees. But slowly, Henry had sold off the herd and parcels of land, and now he was down to a dozen ranch hands, the cook, and her. She was responsible for exercising and grooming the horses.

A cool spring breeze rustled the trees and sent wildflowers swaying by the pond as she passed. Several Longhorns stood chewing their cud and lazing around the water as if they didn’t have a care in the world.

Sunshine glinted off the stones and boulders in the distance, the scent of fresh hay and grass wafting around her as she neared the stables.

The sight of the official looking Texas Ranger vehicle parked in front of the main house made her breath catch.

Had something happened to make Henry and Joy call the police?

Or…no…Geoff was locked away in the state penitentiary. He wasn’t eligible for parole for seven years.

But just as she steered the chestnut toward the house, Sergeant Alex Townsend stepped from the vehicle. He tilted his hat and looked at her with those deep, dark assessing eyes, and her heart began to pound.

Her worst fear was that Geoff would somehow get out and come for her. That he would be free again.

His freedom meant hers had come to an end.

And his release was the only reason she could think of for Sgt. Townsend to come here himself.

Alex sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of Mia riding up on that horse. With the wind blowing her long dark hair around her face, and the sun glinting off her skin, she looked so peaceful.

Happy.

A far cry from the frightened battered woman he’d met in the hospital.

Guilt made his stomach knot.

He was about to rob that peace from her and hoist her back into the world of fear she’d lived with for months.

A frown replaced the contentment he’d seen earlier as she drew the horse to a halt, slid from the animal’s back, tied the horse to a hitching post, then walked toward him. He couldn’t help but soak in her features and the changes in her. Her once pale skin glowed a golden bronze now from the Texas sun.

And those eyes – before they’d been filled with sadness, anger, the kind of terror no woman should ever experience at the hands of the man who’d vowed to cherish and love her.

For a moment before she’d dismounted and realized he’d been driving that police vehicle, happiness had shimmered in the depths.

Guilt sliced through him because he was about to destroy that happiness.

Still, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Where she’d been way too thin before, she’d actually gained weight and in all the right places, giving her curves that would make a man’s mouth water.

He froze, irritated at his reaction. Mia Matthews had been part of a case he’d worked. A victim for God’s sake.

Off limits.

She still was.

Alex had a hard and fast rule about staying single. Kept his emotions intact and his social life,
sex
, separate from the job.

It was safer for everyone that way.

“Sgt. Townsend,” Mia said, her voice crisp as if bracing herself for bad news.

He tipped his Stetson, his body humming with anxiety. She didn’t deserve to have to live in fear again. “Mia.”

The wind tossed strands of her hair around her cheek, and she tucked it behind her ear. His gaze caught on one of the scars on her fingers.

Awareness fluttered through her, and she instantly dropped her hand. “I don’t suppose you’re here to buy a horse.”

He shook his head. “No, I’m sorry.”

A heartbeat passed, fraught with tension, then she sighed wearily. “What happened?”

Two ranch hands were riding up. He didn’t want to spill the news to her in front of them. “Can we go inside and talk?”

She studied him for a long moment, “Sure. But let’s go to my cabin. I think I need to sit down.”

He nodded and gestured for her to lead the way. She turned, and he found his gaze glued to her backside. Tight worn jeans hugged her butt, her ponytail swaying as she led him past the stable and down a path by the creek where a small log cabin sat nestled in the woods.

It looked like a postcard picture for a vacation home. A homemade wreath hung on the front door, and colorful flowers swayed in the flowerbeds flanking the rocking chair front porch.

“You’re happy here, aren’t you?” he asked.

Mia angled her head toward him from the top of the steps.  “I love it. It’s small but homey and…it’s mine.”

He gave a clipped nod, hating again that he was going to destroy her sense of peace.

She opened the door and ushered him in, then offered coffee. He accepted, stalling the inevitable. She handed him a ceramic hand painted mug that looked as if it had come from one of the reservations nearby.

“If I remember, you take it black,” she said softly.

“You have a good memory.”

“Some things are hard to forget,” she said, a wave of sadness washing over her face. Other emotions flickered there, too, ones he didn’t recognize and didn’t want to explore.

One night before the trial, she’d broken down, and he’d lost control and wrapped his arms around her. That first touch had set him on fire and scared the crap out of him.

Because he’d wanted her for himself. 

After that, he’d been careful not to touch her.

She poured herself a mug of coffee, then claimed the big club chair in the corner by the stone fireplace, but she didn’t drink the coffee. Instead she seemed to be cradling the cup like a lifeline, as if she needed the warmth to ward off a deep chill.

“Okay, Sgt. Townsend, tell me. Where is he?”

“I don’t know,” Alex said, his voice grave.  “He broke out of prison last night with two other inmates.”

Mia’s hand shook, sloshing coffee over the rim and onto her hand. He reached out and took the cup from her, then set it on the wooden coffee table. “I’m sorry, Mia. There’s a statewide manhunt out for him now.”

Mia was
his
.

She had been from he moment he’d laid eyes on her in that coffee shop. She’d looked so delicate as she’d rushed in, all windblown and sexy with those enormous eyes.

All slender and soft and perfect, like she’d been born to please him.

Flirting with her had come naturally.  Making love to her such an innate, desperate need that he’d had to force himself to wine and dine her before taking her to bed.

And then the wedding. Ahh…Mia had no family, no mother to dote on her or interfere, no father to have to ask for her hand. Isolated and alone, she’d needed him as much as he’d needed her. Giving her the wedding of her dreams had brought him great pleasure just as molding her into the perfect wife had.

The ungrateful bitch.

He snuck into the cheap hotel room, then dropped the hair dye onto the sink. Damn, but he liked his looks and hated like hell to change his appearance.