by Rita Herron
He thought he was going to vomit and pushed to his feet, staggered outside and hung his head over the side of the concrete walkway. Dragging in a huge gulp of air, he fought the nausea.
Then he felt Jordan’s hand on his back. Her fingers slowly rubbing the base of his neck.
“Miles, Timmy...he may still be out there. Dugan could just be toying with you.”
He spun toward her, his heart beating frantically, panic paralyzing him. Tears must have leaked from his eyes because she lifted one hand and wiped at his cheeks.
For a moment he was so dizzy he couldn’t see.
She gripped his jaw with her hands and kissed him gently. “Listen to what I said. Dugan is sick. He may just be tormenting you. Otherwise, where’s Timmy’s body?”
Her words made him buckle over again, and she caught him and wrapped her arms around him. Pain wrenched him so deeply it cut at his soul.
“I know you’re scared,” Jordan said firmly. “But pull it together, Miles. We need to search the house. He could have tied Timmy up somewhere and left him here.” She jerked his face up. “Don’t give up, do you hear me? Let’s look around in case he’s here. If he is, he needs us to find him.”
Her stern voice shattered the panicked terror overwhelming him, and he nodded. Dragging in a breath, he jumped into motion and began to search the compound.
They used his flashlight and crept through the big block house, combing room to room, checking closets and storage units and even searching for a trap or secret door. But an hour later Miles knew the place was empty.
There were two smaller buildings, one a garage where some old tools had been stored, the second a space that looked as if it had been used as a drug lab. The scent of chemicals still lingered behind.
Finally Miles gave in to defeat. “He’s not here.” He scanned the property. “Unless he’s out there somewhere.”
Jordan shuddered, but shook her head. “We won’t stop looking, Miles. Call the local police and ask them to organize a search team. We can’t possibly search the area by ourselves.”
Miles agreed, phoned Sanchez and filled him in.
“It will be impossible to get a search team there at this hour,” Sanchez said. “But I will have men there at dawn.”
Miles wanted to lay into him and order men to come out now, but it was pitch-dark and they had miles to cover where Dugan could have left Timmy. If they waited until morning, they could get a chopper and cover more ground.
He just hoped Dugan had lied, and that it wouldn’t be too late.
That he hadn’t hurt Timmy or left him out in the elements alone to die.
His phone buzzed, and he snapped it open.
“Miles, it’s Blackpaw.”
“Please tell me you have good news,” he said gruffly.
A long sigh echoed back. “I’m afraid not.”
Miles braced himself. “Then what?”
“It’s about Belsa.”
“You found him?”
“Not exactly. But one of Marie’s neighbors saw Ables’s photo on the news, and guess what?”
He cursed. He was in no mood for games. “Just tell me, dammit.”
“Belsa and Ables are the same man.”
Miles gritted his teeth. God...Marie had had no idea she’d been dating Dugan’s half brother. That he’d probably stalked her, even introduced himself to her and his son, so he could be close to them to help his brother.
So had he killed Marie or had Dugan?
* * *
JORDAN’S HEART POUNDED as Miles relayed the news about Belsa.
He was so upset, Jordan took his arm and pulled him toward the Jeep. “Get in, I’ll drive.”
Miles shook his head in protest, but she shoved him into the passenger side and he was so weary and in such a fog that he let her.
She checked the GPS and found a motel the next city over and headed to it.
Jordan wanted to alleviate Miles’s pain, but the truth was she had experienced the same blinding, terrible grief after losing her little brother, and that type of shock robbed you of your breath and senses.
But Timmy wasn’t dead. She wouldn’t believe it until they found his body.
Her counseling instincts warned her not to give Miles false hope, but she refused to listen to them. If he gave up and Timmy was out there, Timmy needed them to keep looking.
Miles sat in a stony silence as she drove, the silence deafening as the tires churned over desolate stretches of pocked road. Finally a sweep of buildings cropped into view, the lights of another small town dotting the distance.
Jordan headed into town, found the motel and tried to ignore the rugged, dirty accommodations as she and Miles checked in.
The man behind the desk gave her a lecherous smile when he realized they had no luggage, but she ignored him and asked for one room anyway. Let him think what he would. She didn’t give a damn.
All she cared about now was finding Timmy and comforting Miles.
He rallied enough to look around warily as they made their way to the room, his hand close to his gun at all times. Jordan opened the door and winced at the bare furnishings, then shrugged it off.
“Are you hungry?” she asked. “I can go down and pick us up some food.”
“I can’t eat anything.” Miles clenched her hand. “And you aren’t going anywhere in this town alone, Jordan. It’s not safe.”
She gathered that, but she wanted to help.
His body shuddered against her, and she slid a hand up to cup his cheek. “Go shower. We’ll rest and start over in the morning. Maybe we’ll hear something more by then, get another lead.”
Or meet the search team to look for Timmy.
Miles’s despondent look indicated that he was thinking the same thing.
“Come on, a shower will do us both good.” She took his hand and coaxed him into the tiny bathroom. Under other circumstances, she wouldn’t have dared step foot in the shower stall of a roach motel, but tonight the conditions didn’t matter.
Miles stood ramrod straight, his body rigid as she reached for his shirt and began to unbutton it. “Jordan—”
“Shh, let me.”
His dark gaze latched with hers, emotions brimming to the surface. Pain. Need. Fear.
Hunger.
She couldn’t do any more about finding Timmy tonight but she could do this. She raised herself on tiptoe and dragged her mouth to his.
* * *
MILES SHUT ALL THE DARK thoughts from his mind. He had to. It was the only way he could keep from throwing himself against a wall.
Or eating his gun.
And neither would help him find his son.
Jordan’s words taunted him—Timmy might still be alive. Dugan could be playing them.
The bastard was just cruel enough to pull that kind of sick stunt.
Jordan’s other theory nagged at him, too. Dugan might be planning to create his own little family with Timmy....
Over his dead body.
Jordan closed her lips over his, and a surge of white-hot need raged through him. Adrenaline mingled with raw desire, and he tunneled his hands in her hair, ripped out the ponytail holder and spread the luscious strands over her shoulders just as he’d wanted to do since he’d first met her.
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 presse
d 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.
* * *
PLEASURE 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.
* * *
MILES 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 cr
ept 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.