Bucking Bronc Lodge 04(54)

“What do you mean? He’s a sociopath. He has no conscience.”

“He was traumatized as a boy. That abuse triggered his behavior.” Jordan thumbed his hair back from his forehead. “I don’t think he’ll hurt Timmy, Miles. I reminded him what it felt like to be a scared little boy. How he felt.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I can’t,” Jordan said. “But I have to believe he’ll remember that. That his beef is with his mother, not Timmy.”

Miles wanted to believe her so badly his head throbbed. He had to grasp on to the hope she offered. He couldn’t survive if he thought Timmy was gone.

Desperate for hope, for some comfort, he reached for Jordan. A heated moment stretched between them as his gaze met hers.

Then a look of hunger and need flared in her eyes. A look that mirrored the feelings raging through him.

He couldn’t help himself. He was terrified, hurting... He just wanted to hold her for a minute and absorb her strength.

So he pulled her in his arms and closed his mouth over hers.

* * *

JORDAN OPENED HER MOUTH, welcoming Miles’s kiss, her need driving her to thread her fingers in his hair and draw him closer. One kiss led to another, their frenzied hunger making her yearn for more.

He deepened the kiss, ran his fingers along her jaw, dropped tongue lashes along her earlobe and neck until she shivered and rubbed herself against him.

Miles groaned, then cupped her buttocks with his hand and walked her backward until she was pressed against the wall.

His mouth left hers to suckle at her neck, one hand trailing over her shoulder and tugging at her blouse. But the moment he flicked the top button open and saw the blood, he halted.

His gaze met hers, dark, fiercely protective, angry.

“I’m sorry, this is wrong.”

“No.” She caught his arm before he could pull away. “It’s not wrong for two people to comfort each other.”

His mouth tightened into a grim line. “You’ve been injured,” he said. “And I need to be looking for my son.”

“Miles—”

He traced a finger along the cut on her forehead, his frown deepening. “You probably need stitches or you might scar.”

“I don’t care about a scar,” she said. “I care about you and Timmy.”

Pain creased his face. “Jordan...” He closed his eyes. When he opened them, a resolve had set in. “Come on, let’s check out your shoulder.”

He gently peeled back her blouse, studied the tissue where the bullet had burned the top of her skin, his expression tormented. “I’m sorry you got caught up in this, that you were hurt because of me.”

“I’m just glad I was there with Timmy.” Jordan kissed his cheek gently. “And I’ll be there to help him when we bring him back.”

A seed of hope flared in his eyes. His phone beeped that he had a text, and he jerked up to check it.

“What is it?” Jordan asked.

“Blackpaw. The roster for Dugan’s trial and the prison visitor list is being faxed to the main house right now. It could be the lead to this woman you mentioned.”

“Go pick it up while I shower,” Jordan said.

He shook his head. “I don’t want to leave you—”

Jordan squeezed his arm. “I’ll be fine. The police are looking for Dugan. Brody has security and that other deputy watching for Ables.”

Miles wavered slightly, then gave a clipped nod. “Lock the door. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

As soon as he left, Jordan hurried into the bathroom. She stripped and examined her injury in the mirror. It was just a graze, but the memory of Dugan holding her, threatening Timmy flashed back and she began to shake all over.

Delayed reaction. She knew the term for it. Understood that now the immediate danger was over, her adrenaline was waning.

She flipped on the shower water and stepped inside. Only the danger wasn’t over. Timmy was still with Dugan.

She prayed that she was right and that he wouldn’t hurt him.

But the truth was—Robert Dugan was a sociopath. Something had triggered his desperation, incited him to deviate from his pattern, to escalate into taking hostages and risking capture by coming on the ranch.

At this point, he had nothing to lose.

Which meant he might do absolutely anything.

Even kill Timmy.

* * *

MILES RAN INTO THE HOUSE, his nerves on edge. No telling what was happening to Timmy. What if Ables was lurking nearby waiting on him to leave Jordan alone?

He jogged to the office, snatched the fax printouts, then quickly stopped by his cabin for a change of clothes, his passport and his laptop.

Five minutes later when he entered Jordan’s cabin, the shower was running. For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine her beneath the spray of water, rivulets trickling over her bare, delicate skin.