Bucking Bronc Lodge 04 - Cowboy Cop

by Rita Herron

Then he searched the campsite. The sleeping bags, the kids...Jordan...they were all gone.

  His chest clenched. What in the hell had Dugan done to the boys?

  He turned and scanned the thicket of trees. Could he already have killed Jordan and Timmy and left them somewhere out in the woods to die alone?

  Chapter Twelve

  Miles’s head spun. He needed help for Lee, but he also had to find Jordan and Timmy and the other kids.

  Mason walked up behind him. “I’ll call for an ambulance.”

  Miles shook his head. “No, let me call Dr. Richmond. He’ll get here faster than transporting Lee to the E.R.” He called the doc and quickly explained the circumstances.

  Mason grabbed a blanket one of the kids left behind, tore it in half, then wadded it up and pressed it against Lee’s wound to stem the blood flow.

  “I’ll be right there,” Dr. Richmond said.

  “Bring help to move him to the hospital,” Miles said. “And do it quietly. The man who shot him is armed and dangerous. He’s taken hostages on the ranch. We don’t want to send him into a shooting rampage with sirens.”

  “I understand.”

  Miles gave him directions to the camp, then turned to Mason. “I’m going to track down the others. Wait here for the doctor.”

  Mason nodded, then shined a flashlight along the ground and gestured toward the footprints in the dirt. “There’s a start.”

  Miles took the flashlight. “Thanks.”

  Mason caught his arm before he walked away. “Be careful, McGregor. We want Dugan alive, not to turn this into some vigilante killing.”

  Miles cursed through his teeth. “He has my little boy.”

  “I know,” Mason said in a low voice. “And when you save Timmy, you don’t want to go to prison and leave him on his own. He’s lost his mother. He needs his father to raise him.”

  Emotions flooded Miles. On a rational level, he knew Mason was right. But his rage at the injustice of Dugan’s crimes, at the fact he’d gone free, killed Marie and was terrorizing Timmy and Jordan and the other kids with them, heated his blood.

  Dammit. He wanted to destroy Dugan.

  To see him dead.

  Lee groaned and Mason knelt beside him and patted his shoulder. “Help is on the way.”

  His gaze met Miles’s, his earlier warning lingering in the air between them. But Miles didn’t have time to debate what he would do if he confronted Dugan.

  He couldn’t make promises he might not be able to keep.

  “They can’t have gone far if they’re on foot,” Miles said.

  “True. And I didn’t see signs of tire tracks. Although Dugan could have parked somewhere nearby and walked into the camp.”

  Miles’s pulse jumped. If he had a car, he could be off the ranch by now with Timmy and Jordan.

  “I need to go,” he told Mason. “Once Lee is with the doc, track down Ables.”

  Miles didn’t wait for a response. He turned and waved his flashlight across the ground. Like Mason, he didn’t spot tire tracks, only blurred footprints. Several smaller ones, mixed and overlying as if the boys had dragged their feet and walked in a single-file line.

  It appeared as if they were heading northeast, back toward the barn about a quarter mile from the camp. That barn was empty now except for bales of hay, and fairly isolated from the rest of camp.

  Had Dugan parked near there so he could escape?

  He spotted a piece of another blanket caught on a branch, then more footprints. A medium-sized boot print that looked as if it belonged to a woman. Jordan’s. They were interspersed between the others. Occasionally he noticed toe drag marks in the dirt.

  Jordan had intentionally made the indentations, leaving a bread trail for him to follow.

  His admiration for her rose another notch, and he forged on, his heart pounding wildly with every second. A few more feet and he spotted a button, one that looked as if it had come from the shirt Jordan had been wearing before he’d left for the prison.

  He sucked in a sharp breath, hoping she’d pulled it off and dropped it as a sign, not that Dugan had done it.

  He scanned the area, the bushes and weeds, to make sure Dugan hadn’t hurt her and left her to die, but thankfully he didn’t find her.

  Another few feet and he spotted the barn.

  “Dear God, please let them be all right,” he whispered.

  Then he drew his gun, braced it to fire and headed closer.

  * * *

  “YOU HAVE to LET US GO,” Jordan said as she gestured for Carlos and Justin to secure the boys against the haystacks. “Miles and Brody are probably already looking for us.”

  Rory made a whimpering sound, and Malcolm spit into the dirt at Dugan’s feet.

  Dugan raised his arm to hit the boy, but Jordan stepped in front of him. “So far you haven’t hurt any of the children,” Jordan said. “Doing that will only make matters worse for you.”

  Carlos squared his shoulders as if he was a man accustomed to fighting people like Dugan every day. A testament to the hard life he’d lived. “Leave her alone.”

  Dugan raised his weapon and aimed it at Jordan’s face. “If you don’t want anyone hurt, keep them quiet and make sure they don’t try to pull anything.”

  He cut his eyes toward Carlos in warning. Carlos started to step forward as if ready to fight, but Jordan pressed her hand against his chest to stop him. “Stay calm, Carlos. It’ll be all right.”

  She raised her chin a notch. “If you don’t want trouble, then put away the gun.”

  Rory whimpered again, and Justin pulled him over to comfort him. Timmy was staring wide-eyed at Dugan, his body shaking violently.

  “Listen, you have me as a hostage,” Jordan said, desperate to protect the boys. “The kids will only slow you down, so take me and leave them behind.”

  “No, Jordan,” Carlos pleaded.

  “I’m scared,” Wayling whispered.

  Dugan waved the gun toward the kids who were now huddled in a group, as if sticking together could keep them safe. Both Justin and Carlos had bravely placed themselves in front of the boys as protectors.

  These poor kids had seen violence before, but now they showed more courage in the face of danger than anyone she’d ever known.

  “Robert,” Jordan said, resorting to Dugan’s first name to make a personal connection. “I know you must have had a bad childhood yourself.” She gestured toward the boys. “Just like these kids. Think about how you felt when you were a little boy.”

  Pain and a wild kind of fear creased his angular face. “You don’t know anything about how I grew up.”

  She wished she had researched his past, but she hadn’t, so she had to make a guess. To assimilate a profile.

  His M.O., the fact that he chose women to murder, that they all looked similar, except for Marie, and the fact that he’d called them whores suggested an abusive past. Maybe sexually, definitely emotionally. “I know your mother hurt you. That you wanted her love but that she must not have given it to you.”

  Fury flared in his eyes. “I told you not to talk about my mother.”

  “Then tell me about your father,” Jordan said calmly. “What was he like?”

  “How the hell should I know?” Dugan shouted.

  “So you didn’t know him?”

  “I didn’t even know his name,” Dugan said. “Hell, my mother didn’t know it. But that’s not what this is about.”

  So his mother must have had men. A lot of them.

  “Maybe not.” She forced herself to soften her tone, to sound sympathetic. “Remember what it was like when you were that little boy. When you were scared and all you wanted was your mother or someone you loved to hold you.”

  Dugan stared at her for a long minute, his expression so agitated that Jordan feared she’d gone too far. But she had to defuse the situation.

  “Think this through.” She motioned toward the boys who had quieted but watched her and Dugan. “You want your freedom. There’
s no way you can escape with these children underfoot. Take me and I’ll help you.”

  Tension thrummed through the air as she waited on his response. He turned and paced across the space, waving the gun at her and the kids, his movements jerky.

  Finally he whirled around and aimed the gun at her. “All right, but we’re taking the boy.”

  Jordan shook her head. “No, please leave him. He’s innocent—”

  “He’s McGregor’s son.” Dugan walked over and snatched Timmy up by the shirt. Timmy released a sob as Dugan dragged him toward her. Jordan caught Timmy against her legs and cradled him against her.

  “Shh, honey, it’s okay, I’ll take care of you.”

  Dugan pointed the gun at the other boys, then at Jordan’s head. “Stay here. If you move, I’ll shoot her.”

  “No!” Wayling and Rory cried.

  Justin shielded them with his body while Carlos caught a charging Malcolm by the arm.

  “Don’t hurt her,” Carlos muttered.

  Dugan glared at them. “I mean it. If you move, she’s dead.”

  Carlos nodded, then Dugan shoved her and Timmy out the side barn door.

  “Where are we going?” Jordan asked.

  “Do you ever shut up?” Dugan shouted.

  Timmy stumbled, and she grabbed his hand to keep him from falling. Suddenly leaves rustled to the side. Jordan slanted her gaze toward the noise.

  Then a figure stepped from the woods, his look lethal. “Dugan, it’s over. Let them go.”

  Miles...thank God he’d found them.

  Dugan cursed, shoved her and Timmy back toward the barn, then fired his gun at Miles.

  Terror filled Jordan as she and Timmy fell inside the barn, and another gunshot echoed through the air.

  Jordan said a silent prayer that he hadn’t hit Miles. Poor Timmy needed his father now more than ever.

  * * *

  MILES DUCKED TO THE SIDE just in time to dodge the bullet. Another pinged off a tree near him, and he tried to focus on Dugan. If he just shot the man, he could rescue Timmy and Jordan and the others.

  He raised his gun. Dugan was using Jordan and Timmy like a shield, and he couldn’t take a chance on hitting one of them. Then Jordan and his son disappeared back inside the barn. For a fraction of a second, he had a view of Dugan.

  His hand shook, and he narrowed his eyes, determined to make the shot count. One bullet to the chest, that’s all he needed.

  Revenge flared hot in his blood, the taste of it so delicious he savored the moment of victory. The sound of the bullet cracking the man’s ribs.

  He envisioned Dugan falling to the ground, eating dust, his blood running from his body like a stream, gurgling and bubbling as the life drained from the sick man...

  Dugan gone...

  The violence ending.

  His son safe.

  But Dugan vaulted inside the barn before he could fire a round.

  Dammit.

  Cold sweat exploded on his head and body. Had he messed up by showing himself? Would Dugan take it out on Jordan and Timmy and the other kids?

  He inhaled a sharp breath, strained to hear what was going on inside, braced himself for another gunshot, for a scream...

  Nausea rose to his throat. Surely the man wasn’t so sadistic he’d hurt all those innocent boys?

  But images of the bodies of the women he’d murdered, of Marie’s bloody corpse, flickered across his mind and he knew Dugan was capable of anything. The man had no conscience.

  Worse, he was desperate. He’d completely deviated from his pattern and was out of control, acting on instinct and panic with no rational thought as to the fact that his behavior made him look guilty of the crimes he’d been released for.

  Still, the accomplice—Ables, he now believed the man to be—was out there.

  Mason would alert the authorities and hopefully they would apprehend him. But what kind of damage would he do first?

  Was he stalking another victim now? Did he have another woman in his clutches, had he tied her down, raped her, slashed her throat?

  A seed of terror seized him, for the first time in months doubts hammering at him.

  What if he had been wrong all along?

  What if Dugan hadn’t murdered all four women? What if Ables had? Or perhaps they’d taken turns? Maybe it had been a game and they’d been keeping score?

  Had he screwed up and set the wheels in motion to cause Marie’s death because he’d missed something? Or what if Belsa had killed her?

  Dugan had insisted on his innocence all through the trial. He’d claimed he had been set up.

  Was Dugan here to exact revenge because he was innocent—because Miles had been so sure Dugan was guilty that he’d convicted him when the real killer was still hunting?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jordan’s knees hit the floor of the barn, but she ignored the pain. The boys looked terrified. “It’s okay,” she said, praying she was right and that Miles hadn’t been hit.

  She had to be rational. Keep the boys calm. If one of them tried to do something heroic like jump Dugan or escape, it could be dangerous for all of them.

  Timmy clung to her. “Go on, sweetie, go sit with Carlos and the others.” His big eyes looked terrified and hesitant, but she stroked his hair. “It’s all right. Now do as I say.”

  Carlos held out his hand. “Come on, sport.”

  Timmy ran over to him, and Carlos pulled him up against the wall beside him.

  Meanwhile, Dugan paced by the door, his harried, jerky movements indicating his agitation. He felt trapped. That could be dangerous or work to her advantage if she played him right.

  “Dugan, listen to me,” Miles shouted from outside.

  Relief swam through Jordan. If Miles was talking, he must not be shot. He would rescue them, she knew it.

  Dugan inched to the door, cracked it a notch and shouted, “Come any closer and I start shooting in here.”

  Jordan’s breath caught, and the kids made a collective gasp.

  “Did you hear me, McGregor?” Dugan made a show of glancing at her, then the kids. “Let me see, who’s going to get the first bullet?”

  Jordan moved to block his view of the kids. “You really don’t want to do that, Robert.”

  “I’m putting my gun down,” Miles shouted. “But we have to talk, Dugan. You need my help to escape, and it won’t work if you hurt one of those kids.”

  Through the slit in the doorway, Jordan saw Miles inching toward the barn, his hands raised in surrender.

  Her heart stalled in her chest. What if Dugan shot him?

  “Don’t come any further,” Dugan warned.

  Miles halted, his expression grim. “Come on, Dugan. You want me. Just send the kids out and take me as your hostage.”

  “No, no, no,” Dugan sang. “I’m not falling for your tricks.”

  Jordan gently laid her hand on his arm. “I know you, Robert, you understand how these boys feel because you were afraid when you were little.”

  “Stop trying to get into my head,” he snarled.

  “You know you can’t stay here,” Jordan said quietly. “And you can’t take all these boys with you, so why not let them go? They’re only going to be a liability.”

  He flicked his gaze toward the kids, seemingly contemplating her words.

  “You’ll still have me,” Jordan continued. “You can get a car or a helicopter and we can leave. But you can’t run with this group. And if you hurt any of them, it won’t even matter if you were innocent or guilty before. The police will just come after you harder.”

  “McGregor will never stop anyway,” Dugan bit out.

  “Maybe not. But when you were little, you wanted someone to save you from your home. From whatever hurt you.” Despite the fact that he terrified her, she forced herself to stroke his arm in a soothing gesture. “You can do that for these boys. You can save them like you wanted to be saved.”

  A heartbeat of silence lingered, riddled with tension, with
emotions, with fear. Dugan paced, obviously warring with the decision in his mind. Something was off about the way he was acting, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

  It was almost as if he’d suffered a psychotic break. Or perhaps he normally took medication and was off of it. His eyes didn’t seem to be able to focus, and she noticed a nervous tick in his jaw. It was slight, and something new that hadn’t been evident in his TV interviews.

  “Dugan,” Miles shouted again. “I’m waiting. Send out the kids and I’m yours.”

  Anger once again heated his eyes, and he swung the gun toward Justin. Wayling and Rory were hovering by him, knees drawn, faces strained.

  “The little guy with the red hair, come here.”

  Jordan’s throat clogged with fear, but Rory stood on shaky legs and walked toward her. Jordan grabbed his hand and pulled him against her side. “Don’t hurt him, Robert.”

  That jaw twitched again. Then he poked Rory with the butt of his gun. “Go on, kid, get out of here.”

  Relief swirled in Jordan’s chest, and she nodded toward Rory. Dugan pushed her to the door of the barn and held her in front of him, the gun at her throat.

  “One of the kids is on his way out, but if you make a move, the woman gets it in the head,” Dugan yelled.

  Jordan’s pulse pounded as her gaze met Miles’s. His look was stony, his big body rigid, the fury radiating from him palpable. She tried to offer him a smile, to let him know that everyone was safe for now, but she wasn’t sure she pulled it off.

  Her hand fumbled on Rory’s arm. “Go on, sweetie. Run outside to Miles.”

  Rory looked up at her with terrified eyes. But she also saw worry and guilt, as if he hated to leave the others behind. “It’ll be all right, I promise,” Jordan whispered. “Just go on. We’ll join you soon.”

  She gently nudged him through the door and saw visible relief on Miles’s face. Jordan felt the same except there were still five other boys that needed saving.

  She prayed she could talk Dugan into releasing all of them.

  Then she would start fighting for her own life.

  * * *

  MILES’S HEART ACHED as little Rory raced toward him. He had texted Brody their location, and he heard a horse galloping up and glanced back to see Brody heading his way.