Ultimate Cowboy (19 page)

“How many victims were there?” another reporter asked.

“You said there are murder charges?” another one asked.

Julie’s eyes flickered in pain then she grripped the podium. Brody saw the fatigue and anguish on her face, and wanted to drag her in
his arms and comfort her. Dammit, she should be here with him and Will, not out there fighting monsters like Moody.

“Again, we cannot reveal details, but I can say that Moody kidnapped a total of ten victims. Sadly, we’ve recovered the bodies of four.” She exhaled a labored breath. “On a positive note, that means we saved six lives. And the man who abducted and abused them is now awaiting
trial.”

She squared her shoulders. “So if you take anything away from this, folks, go home and love your children. Watch them, hug them, love them, and most of all know where they are.”

Then she released the podium, dropped her head and walked away.

Chief Hurt stayed to answer more questions, but Brody stared at the screen, wanting more of Julie. Wanting her to be there with him.

“She’s amazing,” Will said.

Brody smiled, all his hesitations and rationalizations for not calling her fading away.

“You and she...you had a thing, didn’t you?” Will asked.

Brody nodded.

“What happened?”

Brody shook his head. No way would he tell him that his disappearance had torn them apart.

It hadn’t, he suddenly realized. He had torn them apart by not turning
to the one person who had loved him most back then.

The question was—did she still love him, or had he hurt her too much to have a chance with her now?

Chapter Nineteen

Julie had to get away from the cameras. The last few days of interrogating Moody, of listening to the horror stories from the other victims had taken its toll.

She punched the elevator button inside the building, desperate to escape. Her chest hurt from trying to breathe, and for the first time in her life she thought she was going to have a panic attack.

She couldn’t do this anymore.

Between the last case she’d worked, where women had been brutally slashed, and now this case, where so many children and families had had their lives destroyed by such a sick man, her trust in humanity was being slowly eaten away.

Guilt weighed on her. There were going to be more kids, more families, more women, more couples torn apart by some maniac.

When would it ever end?

It wouldn’t. She couldn’t save them all.

And that tormented her.

But you did save Will. And you brought him back to Brody
.

As selfish as that was, for now, it might have to be enough.

Agent Cord rushed toward her, his expression concerned. “Are you okay, Julie?”

She fought back tears. “I...can’t do it anymore, I have to get out.”

His understanding nod somehow made the guilt slightly abate. “You did good, Julie. You did real good.”

She pressed a hand to her mouth, swallowing back tears. If she started crying for all the victims she’d seen, all the horror she’d seen, she’d never stop crying.

“What will you do?” he asked softly.

“I don’t know,” she said, her voice cracking.

He sighed. “Julie, you love him.
Go and tell him. Don’t waste another seven years.”

A laugh bubbled somewhere in the depths of her throat. Jay was such a good friend. And he was right.

“But what if I tell him and he doesn’t feel the same way?” she whispered.

“My God, woman, you are a fool,” he said with a smile. “The man loves you, and if he’s too scared to admit it, remind him you stared down a bullet for him.”

Julie nodded, blinking back tears, then hugged Jay just as the elevator dinged.

She would go to the BBL and see for herself.

After all, Brody had broken her heart seven years ago.

She wanted him to put it back together again.

Had he forgiven her for the past?

* * *

D
USK
HAD
JUST
started to set when Brody realized he had to go to Julie.

Will was finishing
dinner with some of the other guys, and he couldn’t leave without telling him. He pulled him aside, wanting to make sure it was okay with his brother. After all, Will had only been back with him for a week. He was just adjusting, just getting used to his new life.

Trying to work through the past.

“Will, I... You were right about me and Julie,” he said. “I was a fool to let her go, and
I want to make it right.”

Will arched a dark eyebrow. “What are you waiting for then?”

Brody shuffled on his feet, then pressed a hand to his brother’s shoulder. “You,” Brody said. “I’ve waited so long to have you back. I don’t want to jeopardize our relationship—”

“Shut up and go get her,” Will said with a teasing smile that warmed Brody’s heart.

“You’re sure?” Brody asked.

“Yeah, she’s hot,” Will said with a full grin this time.

Brody laughed for the first time in weeks. “Yeah, she is.” He gave his brother a big hug, then jogged back to the main house.

His mind raced as he mentally made plans. He’d have to pack a bag in case he needed to stay overnight. Should he order flowers? Buy a ring?

Just as he stepped outside to go to his Jeep, a dark blue
SUV rolled up. Brody frowned. He didn’t recognize the vehicle.

Then the door opened, and Julie slid from the seat. She looked so beautiful that he could hardly stand it.

But worry quickly crept in. Had she come to tell him something more about the case? Had Moody escaped?

“Julie?”

“Hi, Brody,” she said with a smile that looked so tentative his pulse hammerd.

“Where’s your
other car?” he asked, suddenly noting that she wasn’t driving her FBI-issued black sedan.

She shrugged. “I turned it in and bought this.”

It took him a moment for her statement to register. “You turned it in?”

“Yes, when I resigned.” She shut the door, then walked toward him, a hint of the old Julie back. The flirty one who’d stolen his heart years ago.

“You resigned?”

She climbed the steps. “Yes. I don’t know what I’m going to do now though.”

The fact that she was here, that she’d left the job he hated, that she was smiling and wearing cowboy boots and jeans and a hat suddenly sank in, and hope budded in his chest.

“I know what you could do,” he said as he reached for her and pulled her up against him.

Her gaze locked with his, a teasing playfulness
lighting the depths that had been missing the last time he’d seen her. Of course, that had been when they were facing down Moody.

But he didn’t want to think about Moody now. He wanted to enjoy the fact that Julie had come to him.

He nudged her cheek with his own, then whispered, “You could marry me.”

Julie looped her arms around his neck and looked him in the eye, her face awash
with the same love she’d shown him when she was just a girl. “I reckon I could do that,” she said softly.

His heart stuttered. He was so damn happy he thought he would burst. “I love you,” he said gruffly, then swung her up into his arms and twirled her around. “I’ve always loved you, Julie.”

She threaded her fingers in his hair. “I love you, too, cowboy.”

Then she closed her lips
over his and kissed him. “You won’t mind if I don’t work for a while?” she murmured when they came up for air.

“You can help me here on the BBL.” He kissed her again. “And you can give me babies.”

She threw her head back and laughed, a musical sound that warmed his heart. “How about we just start with one?”

“One sounds good to me,” Brody said. “That is, for a start.”

She laughed
again, and he lifted her in his arms and carried her upstairs to the bedroom.

Epilogue

Julie had dreamed about a June wedding, and seven years after she’d talked about having it with Brody, it was finally coming true.

She had also dreamed about having a big family and between the boys at the BBL, Will, the men who ran the ranch and their wives, that was coming true, as well.

She and Johnny’s wife, Rachel; Brandon’s wife, Kim; Carter’s wife, Sadie;
Miles’s wife, Jordan; and Mason’s wife, Cara, had become like sisters. She waved to them all as they filed into their seats with their husbands. Rachel’s son, Kenny, sat with Miles’s son, Timmy, and Kim and Brandon’s little girl, Lucy. Both Rachel and Kim were pregnant, and she’d heard Sadie, Cara and Jordan all talking about babies in the near future.

But the biggest surprise had been the
phone call from her aunt. She had seen the news story featuring Julie and the abused boys, and finally decided to leave her husband. She said she’d taken the last beating of her life.

Julie had talked to Brody and like the honorable man and cowboy he was, he had offered her a place at the BBL. She was helping Ms. Ellen in the kitchen, and had blossomed under the other woman’s loving care.
Her uncle had come after her, but Brody had put the fear of God in him, and her uncle had slunk away. Between her warning and Brody’s, they didn’t expect to ever see him again.

Brody stood next to Will, his best man, beneath the same gazebo where Mason and Cara had married a few months ago. White chairs and ribbons adorned the outdoor festivities, with flowers adding color.

It turned
out Agent Cord played the guitar and had offered to play for them.

It was a perfect spring day.

But it would have been perfect if it had been raining and there was no one here to watch, because she was marrying the perfect man.

Her cowboy and the love of her life.

Jay began strumming the wedding march, and she clutched her roses in one hand and started the bridal walk toward
the man she loved.

And her soon-to-be husband.

* * *

B
RODY
HAD
NEVER
felt as blessed as he did on this day. Surrounded by his best friends, the ranch hands, counselors and kids on the BBL, and his brother, life just couldn’t get any better.

Sunlight painted a radiant picture of his bride as she walked toward him, the golden light shimmering off her simple but elegant wedding
dress.

“She’s great, Brody,” Will whispered. “Someday I hope I find a girl like her.”

Brody choked back emotions. The fact that Will was looking ahead was a good sign. “You will one day, Will. And she is wonderful. I wouldn’t have you back if she hadn’t kept looking the way she did.” He loved her even more for that.

Because she had sacrificed her dreams for him.

He would make
sure she followed her own dreams from now on. Hell, if she still wanted to go to vet school, he’d pay for that.

Or if she wanted to have babies and raise a family, he was all over that, too.

Still, Will was the amazing one. He was not only making great strides in his own recovery but also opening up and helping others. He and the boys who’d survived shared their own special bond and
Brody had welcomed them onto the ranch as part of the family.

The guitar music faded as Julie took his hand, and the reverend began the ceremony. Ten minutes later, he walked his wife down the aisle and the celebration began.

Food, champagne and cake added to the party, then the music started again and Brody swept Julie onto the makeshift dance floor for their first dance as man and
wife.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him again as he swung her around. “I love you, Brody.”

“I love you, too,” he whispered. “Forever and always.”

She smiled into his eyes. “Forever and always.”

Then Brody looked across the dance floor and saw Will smiling. He returned the smile, so proud of him he wanted to shout it to the heavens.

Moody had taken him
away seven years ago, but Julie had brought him back.

She and Will were both heroes.

And he had no doubt that one day his brother would take over the BBL and continue the work that he had started.

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt of
Cowboy Cop
by Rita Herron!

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Chapter One

Three months later

“Dugan is out.”

Miles’s fingers tightened around his cell phone as he wheeled
his SUV around and headed toward the station. “What?”

His superior, Lieutenant Hammond, didn’t sound happy. “Based on
the Kelly woman’s murder and some technicality with the chain of evidence when
they’d searched the man’s place, Dugan’s lawyer
got his conviction
overturned.”

The past few weeks of tracking down clues and false leads day
and night taunted him. He released a string of expletives.

Hammond cleared his throat. “If we’d found evidence connecting
Dugan to a partner, maybe things would have gone differently, but...”

Hammond let the sentence trail off, but Miles silently finished
for him. If
he and Mason had found such evidence, Dugan would still be in a
cell. And the world would be a safer place.

But they’d failed.

The day Dugan’s verdict was read flashed back. Dugan’s threat
resounded in his head—
you’ll pay.

“Now that he’s back on the streets—”

“I know. He’s going to kill again,” Miles said.
And he’s probably coming after me.

His cell phone chirped,
and he glanced at the caller ID.
Marie’s number.

Damn, she was probably on his case for working again last night
and missing dinner with Timmy. He’d thought he might have found a lead on the
copycat, but instead he’d only chased his own tail.

The phone chirped again.

You’ll pay.

Panic suddenly seized him, cutting off his breath.
Dammit...what if payback
meant coming after his family?

“I have to go, Hammond.” Sweat beaded on his neck as he
connected the call. “Hello?”

Husky breathing filled the line, then a scream pierced the
receiver.

He clenched the steering wheel with a white-knuckled grip. He
had to clear his throat to speak. “Marie?”
God, tell me
you’re there....

But the sudden silence sent a chill
up his spine.

“Marie, Timmy?”

More breathing, this time followed by a husky laugh that
sounded sinister, threatening...evil.

Dear God, no...

Dugan was at Marie’s house.

He pressed the accelerator, his heart hammering as he sped
around traffic and called for backup. The dispatch officer agreed to send a
patrol car right away.

A convertible nearly cut
him off, and Miles slammed on his
horn, nearly skimming a truck as he roared around it. Brush and shrubs sailed
past, the wheels grinding on gravel as he hugged the side of the country
road.

Images of the dead women from Dugan’s crime scenes flashed in
his head, and his stomach churned. No, please, no...Dugan could not be at
Marie’s house. He couldn’t kill Marie...not
like the other women.

And Timmy...his son was home today with her.

The bright Texas sun nearly blinded him as he swerved into the
small neighborhood where Marie had bought a house. Christmas decorations
glittered, lights twinkled from the neighboring houses, the entryways screaming
with festive holiday spirit.

Somehow they seemed macabre in the early-morning light.

He shifted gears, brakes squealing as he rounded a curve and
sped down the street. He scanned the neighboring yards, the road, the trees
beyond the house, searching for Dugan.

But everything seemed still. Quiet. A homey little neighborhood
to raise a family in.

Except he had heard that scream.

His chest squeezed for air, and he slammed on the brakes and
skidded
up the drive. He threw the Jeep into Park, and held his weapon at the
ready as he raced up to the front door.

Cop instincts kicked in, and he scanned the outside of the
house and yard again, but nothing looked amiss. He glanced through the front
window, but the den looked normal...toys on the floor, magazines on the table,
TV running with cartoons.

Only the Christmas
tree had been tipped over, ornaments
scattered across the floor.

He reached for the doorknob, and the door swung open. His
breath lodged in his throat, panic knotting his insides. No sounds of holiday
music or Timmy chattering.

Gripping his weapon tighter, he inched inside, senses honed for
signs of an intruder.

Slowly, he made his way through the den to the
kitchen. The
Advent calendar glared at him, mocking him with a reminder that Christmas was
only a few days away.

There was a half-empty coffee cup on the counter and an
overturned cereal bowl on the table. Milk dripped onto the floor.

Timmy...God...

Terror seized him.

A creaking sound suddenly splintered the air, and he swung
around, braced to shoot but
he saw nothing. Then another sound came from above,
water running...the shower? No, the tub...overflowing...

He clenched his jaw, then inched toward the staircase, slowly
climbing it and listening for an intruder, for Marie, for his son.

Any sign of life.

A quick glance into Timmy’s room and it appeared empty. Bed
unmade. Toy airplane on the floor. Legos scattered.
Stuffed dinosaur on his
pillow.

Where was his son?

His hand trembled as he bypassed the room and edged toward the
bedroom where Marie slept. One look inside, and his heart stopped.

The lamp was broken on the floor. Pillows tossed on the carpet.
The corner chair overturned. Glass shards from the mirror were scattered on the
vanity.

A sea of red flashed in
front of him. Blood...it soaked the
sheets and led a trail into the bathroom.

His stomach revolted, but he forced himself to scan the corners
of the room before slowly entering the bathroom. Blood streaked the floor and
led toward the claw-foot tub.

A groan settled deep in his gut.

Marie. Her eyes stood wide-open in death. Blood dripped down
her neck and bare
chest. Her arms dangled lifelessly over the tub edge, one leg
askew.

For a moment, he choked. Couldn’t make himself move. He’d seen
dozens of dead bodies before but none so personal...none that he cared
about.

Emotions crowded his throat and chest, and he gripped the wall
to steady himself. He had to. Had to get control. Slide that wall back into
place so he
could do his job.

Every second counted.

Fighting nausea, he slowly walked toward her and felt for a
pulse. Although he knew before he touched her that it was too late.

Dugan had done this. Had gotten his payback by killing his
son’s mother.

That creaking sound suddenly echoed again. He froze, hand
clenching his gun, then spun around.

Nothing. Except the
evidence of Dugan’s brutal crime.

Where was Timmy?

For a fraction of a second he closed his eyes on a prayer. The
sound echoed again...

The attic.

Heart hammering double-time, he headed toward Timmy’s room. The
door to the space had been built inside his closet. Timmy had called it his
secret room.

Had Dugan found it?

Hope warred with terror as he inched
inside the closet and
pushed at the door. It was closed, but he had insisted the lock be removed for
fear Timmy might lock himself inside and be trapped.

Now he wished he’d left that damn lock on so his son could have
locked Dugan out.

Darkness shrouded the cavernous space as he climbed the steps.
He tried to move soundlessly, but the wood floor squeaked. As he reached
the top
step, a sliver of sunlight wormed its way through the small attic window,
allowing him to sweep the interior.

It appeared empty, but he had heard
something.

“Timmy,” he whispered. “Son, are you here?”

Praying he was safe, Miles examined the room. Timmy’s toy
airplanes and horses, his train set...

Another squeak, and he jerked his head around. An antique
wardrobe sat in the corner, one Marie had used to store old quilts. He held his
breath as he approached it, then eased open the door.

Relief mingled with pain when he saw his little boy hunched
inside, his knees drawn to his chest, his arms wrapped around them. He had
buried his head against his legs, silent sobs racking his body.

“Timmy, it’s okay, it’s Dad.” Anguish
clogged his throat as he
gently lifted his son’s face. Blood dotted Timmy’s T-shirt and hands, and tears
streaked his splotched skin, a streak of blood on his left cheek.

But it was the blank look in his eyes that sent a wave of cold
terror through Miles.

Timmy might be alive, but he was in shock.

He stooped down to Timmy’s level and dragged him into his arms,
but his son felt limp, as if the life had drained from him just as it had his
mother.

Three weeks later

J
ORDAN
K
EYS
WATCHED
the
busload of new campers arrive at the Bucking Bronc Lodge, her heart in her
throat. The troubled kids ranged from ages five to sixteen.

Her brother had fit in that category. But he was gone now.

Because she hadn’t been able to help
him.

She fisted her hands, silently vowing to do better here. She’d
read about the BBL and how hard the cowboys and staff worked to turn these kids’
lives around, and she wanted to be a part of it.

If she saved just one kid, it might assuage some of her guilt
over her brother’s death.

A chilly January wind swirled dried scrub brush across the dirt
and echoed
through the trees. She waved to Kim Woodstock, another one of the
counselors and Brandon Woodstock’s wife, as she greeted the bus, then Jordan
bypassed them and headed straight into the main lodge to meet with Miles
McGregor and his five-year-old son, Timmy.

Apparently Miles also volunteered at the BBL, but this time
he’d come because he needed solace and time to heal
from a recent loss.

So did his little boy, who they believed had witnessed his
mother’s murder.

A thread of anxiety knotted her shoulders as she let herself in
the lodge. The empty spot where the Christmas tree had stood made the entryway
seem dismal, but truth be told, she was glad it was gone. The holidays always
resurrected memories of Christmases past, both good
and bad memories that
tormented her with what-ifs.

Shoving the thoughts to the back of her mind, she grabbed a cup
of coffee and made her way back to the wing Brody Bloodworth had recently added
to serve as a counseling and teen center.

The moment she stepped into the room, she sensed pain emanating
through it. Like a living, breathing entity smothering the air.

Little Timmy, a dark-haired boy who looked scrawny and way too
pale, sat in the corner against the wall, his knees drawn up, his arms locked
tightly around them as if he might crumble if he released his grip. The poor
child didn’t even look up as she entered, simply sat staring through glazed eyes
at some spot on the floor as if he was lost.

For a moment, she couldn’t
breathe. What if she failed this
little guy, too? What if he needed more than she could give?

Inhaling to stifle her nerves, she pasted on a smile, then
glanced at the cowboy standing by the window watching the horses gallop across
the pasture. His back was to her, his wide shoulders rigid, his hands clenching
the window edge so tightly she could see the veins bulging
in his broad, tanned
hands.

She cleared her throat. “Mr. McGregor?”

The subtle lift of his shoulders indicated he’d heard her, then
he hissed something low and indiscernible between his teeth and slowly turned to
face her. Dark brown hair like his son’s, except his was shaggy and unkempt,
framed a face chiseled in stone. His jawbones were high, his face square, his
eyes the color of a sunset, brown and orange and gold, rich with color,
but...dead.

That was the only word to describe the emptiness she saw
there.

He removed his Stetson, then walked toward her and held out a
work-roughened hand that looked strong enough to break rocks. Everything about
the man, from his muscular build, his towering height, his broad shoulders
and
those muscular thighs, screamed of masculinity.

And a raw sexuality that made her heart begin to flutter.

But anger also simmered beneath the surface of his calm, anger
and something lethal, like a bloodthirsty need for revenge.

She didn’t know all the details about his relationship to
Timmy’s mother, but she understood that anger. She also knew where it led...to
nothing good.

“I’m Jordan Keys,” she said, finally finding her voice. “Nice
to meet you.”

“There’s nothing nice right now,” he said in a gruff voice.

Jordan stiffened slightly. Obviously he was in pain, but did
that mean he didn’t want her help? A lot of men thought counseling was bogus,
for sissies...beneath them.

“Maybe not, but you’re here now, and I
see you brought your
little boy.” She gestured toward Timmy, who still remained oblivious to her
appearance. “So let’s talk.”

He worked his mouth from side to side as if he wanted to say
something, but he finally gave a nod. “Brody filled you in?”

“Briefly. But I’d like to hear the details from you.”

“Of course. We’ve seen doctors—”

“Not in front of Timmy,” Jordan
said, cutting him off. “Let me
talk to him for a minute, then we can step outside and discuss the
situation.”

His mouth tightened into a grim line, but he nodded again. This
man didn’t like to be ordered around, didn’t like to be out of control.

And he had no control right now.

Which was obviously killing him.

She understood that feeling as well.

She slowly
walked over and knelt beside the child. “Timmy, my
name is Miss Jordan. I’m glad you came to the BBL. We have horses here and other
kids to play with and lots of fun things planned.”

His eye twitched, but he didn’t reply or look at her.