Bucking Bronc Lodge 04(51)

JORDAN SHOOK THE REMNANTS of fog from her mind as she stirred. Her brain felt fuzzy, her temple was throbbing, her arm burning. What had happened?

She heard voices and looked up to see Dugan holding Timmy at gunpoint. Miles was trying to talk him down. The deputy lay injured across from her.

Then Dugan started backing toward the barn door with Timmy as a shield.

“Dugan, don’t.” Miles lurched forward, but Dugan raised his gun to fire. Jordan had to do something. She couldn’t let him kill Miles.

Especially in front of his son.

Summoning all the strength she possessed, she shoved herself up and threw her body at Dugan, knocking the gun upward so it discharged into the air. Timmy yelped, Miles ducked, and the bullet pinged off the roof. Dugan swung his hand back and pushed Jordan back again, then dragged Timmy out the door.

“Stop!” Miles yelled.

But Dugan fired again, and they were helpless to do anything but watch him drag the little boy up the hill toward the woods. Jordan staggered to the door while Miles inched outside, raising his gun and following Dugan.

Seconds later, an engine cut through the night, and she sagged against the doorway as Miles’s bellow of frustration echoed through the air.

Jordan ran toward him. Miles looked crazed and swung around to her in a blind panic. “I have to go. Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’ll go with you.”

“No.” Miles touched her head and came away with bloody fingers, then gestured toward her shoulder. “You need a doctor. I’ll call an ambulance for you and the deputy while I drive.”

Jordan caught his arm. “Please, Miles. I connected with Dugan. I might be able to help.”

His gaze latched with hers for a brief moment, then he nodded, took her hand and they raced to his Jeep. She jumped in the passenger side and he tossed her his phone while he peeled down the road after Dugan.

Jordan called Brody and got him on the line “The deputy is alive but was shot in the leg,” Jordan said. “Miles and I are chasing Dugan now. He’s headed east off the ranch in the deputy’s car.” Which would make it harder to pinpoint and stop. But hopefully the sheriff was alerting other authorities that he was in a stolen police vehicle.

“I’ll call Johnny and tell him to use his chopper and see if he can spot him from the air.”

The police siren wailed as his taillights disappeared over the hill. Miles pressed the accelerator, engine redlining as he swerved off the road and took a shortcut across the land.

“We’ll catch him,” Jordan said, more to reassure herself than him.

He snapped his eyes toward her. “Are you really okay? You look like hell.”

“Thanks,” Jordan said sarcastically.

His jaw tightened even more if that were possible. “I mean it. You have a head injury and you’ve been shot. I should be driving you to the emergency room.”

“My head is fine. It’s just a scratch.” She barely resisted rubbing her shoulder. She thought it was just a graze, but the wound stung like fire and a dull ache had rolled through her arm.

Pain underscored his tone. “It damn well better be.”

“I’m tougher than I look,” she said, desperate to lighten his guilt. For God’s sake, he had enough to worry about without being concerned for her.

The Jeep bounced over the ruts and grooves in the terrain, jolting her as he steered it onto the main road from the ranch toward town.

“You certainly are,” Miles said, although this time a note of admiration softened his voice. Then he reached out and squeezed her hand. “You nearly got killed trying to protect Timmy.”

“We are not going to lose him,” Jordan said, injecting confidence into her voice. “We will get him back, Miles.” She pointed to the right where Dugan was making a turn.

Miles sped up, skimming the edge of the road and nearly spinning out as he tried to keep up. They chased and followed him for half an hour, twisting onto side roads, veering down alleys in the small town they passed through, driving through the desolate area near the reservation, but when he made it onto the highway toward Mexico, he sped up and maneuvered around traffic.

Minutes later, just as the first rays of sun broke through the night, Dugan disappeared out of sight.

Miles raced across the intersection, tires screeching as a truck roared toward them head-on. The Jeep spun a hundred and eighty degrees, skidded through the traffic light, scraping the side of a parked car along the edge, then careened toward oncoming traffic.

Jordan gripped the dashboard with white knuckles. If Miles didn’t get the car under control, they were going to collide.

* * *

MILES JERKED THE JEEP to the right, steering into the skid, trying to regain control. Tires squealed, brakes locked, and the wheels screeched as he rode the embankment.