Bucking Bronc Lodge 04(37)

“You believed he was guilty?” Miles asked.

Case nodded. “He was too slick. Too composed. If you ask me, he’s a sociopath.”

Which meant he had no conscience. That it hadn’t fazed him to kill the women.

And it wouldn’t bother him to take away his son’s life either.

Cold fear knotted Miles’s belly.

“Excuse me, I need to check on my son.” He turned to Blackpaw. “And let’s find out everything we can on Pruitt Ables.”

“I’ll call in a favor to an FBI agent I know. If anyone can dig up information about Ables, he can.”

Miles thanked him and the two of them worked their way back through security. By the time Miles stepped outside into the fresh air, he noticed Jordan had called. She hadn’t left a message, but still, alarm rippled through him and he punched her number. Mason called his friend as Miles walked to his Jeep.

The phone trilled and trilled but Jordan didn’t answer. Miles checked the time on his phone. Eight forty-five. She had taken the group for a hike and they were camping outdoors, but they should be settled down by now.

And why hadn’t she left a message?

The sky was growing darker. The boys might be asleep but Jordan probably wasn’t.

His nerves kicked in and he tried Haddock’s number, but it rolled to voice mail, too. Anxiety knotted his insides. One of them should be answering.

He jumped into his Jeep. “Let’s go. Jordan’s not answering and neither is the security guard that’s supposed to be watching her and the kids.”

Mason slanted him a concerned look, then Miles started the engine and peeled away from the prison. He tried Jordan again, but once more her message machine clicked on.

“Jordan, I’m on my way back, but I’m worried. Call me as soon as you get this.”

He sped up, the Jeep eating the distance, his fear mounting with each mile marker they passed.

If anything happened to Timmy, he’d never forgive himself. And what about Jordan? What if Dugan had hurt her?

Images of the dead women, of Marie butchered, haunted him.

Trembling with fear, he punched Brody’s number, tapping his fingers on the door as he waited. By the time Brody answered, he thought his head was going to explode.

“Brody, have you heard from Jordan or Haddock lately?”

“No,” Brody said. “Why?”

“I’ve tried both their phones but they keep going to voice mail.”

Brody made a clicking sound with his teeth. “Maybe they turned them off to sleep.”

“Haddock is supposed to be on duty. He should be available.”

Brody mumbled agreement. “I’m on my way home from town, but if you’re worried, I’ll call Wes Lee and ask him to ride out there.”

“Thanks,” Miles said. “I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

Miles ended the call, his heart drumming as he sped up again.

If Dugan or this Ables man had hurt Timmy, he’d forget jail. He’d kill the bastard and put him in the ground himself.

* * *

JORDAN’S HEART SPUTTERED as Dugan gripped her neck tighter. She’d heard her cell phone ringing a minute ago. It was probably Miles checking in.

She had to stall. If she didn’t answer, he’d send someone to check on them. Struggling for courage, she tried to sound calm. Reason with the man. “There’s no reason to hurt that little boy, Dugan.”

“Aah, so you do know my name.”

“Yes, and you’re taking a terrible chance being here, especially if you’re innocent like you say. Or have you decided to confess?”

“Now, why would I want to do a stupid thing like that when I’m innocent?” Dugan murmured against her ear.

“You like to hurt women,” Jordan said, her voice hoarse from the way his hand was cutting off her windpipe.

“Women come on to me,” Dugan said with a brittle laugh. “Can I help it if I’m charming?”

“A charming, innocent man wouldn’t be holding me hostage right now,” Jordan quipped. “Or threatening to hurt a five-year-old little boy.”

He jerked her around to face him, his eyes wild. Jordan had seen pictures of him in his slick suits, his manicured nails, his polished expressions, and wondered if he had been innocent or guilty. If the police could have been wrong.

But the dark, sinister glint in his eyes indicated he was every bit the cunning, methodical sociopath Miles had painted him to be.

The sound of a horse echoed in the night, and Jordan froze, praying it was Miles. Then again, if he approached them, Dugan might kill him.

Dugan must have heard the horse too, because he dragged her back into the shadows of a tree and tightened his hold.

“You might as well give it up, Dugan,” Jordan said, fighting panic. “You’re not going to get away with this.”