Rita Herron - Cowboy Cop

THE ONLY WITNESS WAS HIS SON—AND NOW HE’S THE KILLER’S NEXT TARGET

Miles McGregor had dedicated his life to justice, and with his latest arrest behind bars, the detective finally had more time to spend with his son, Timmy. Then the unthinkable happened—Timmy’s mother was murdered before his eyes. Miles’s only choice was to bring his little boy to the Bucking Bronc Lodge, a ranch where young boys heal….

Jordan Keys is an expert at rehabilitating children. But when it comes to Miles, she is lost. The sexy detective is harder to reach…and a whole lot less willing to try. Before long, though, a killer comes calling and Jordan witnesses the true power of Miles McGregor. And just how far he’ll go to rescue them from this living nightmare.

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 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.

Jordan tried to ignore the fear that rippled through her. Miles McGregor was a dangerous man.

Cowboy Cop

Rita Herron

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Award-winning author Rita Herron wrote her first book when she was twelve, but didn’t think real people grew up to be writers. Now she writes so she doesn’t have to get a real job. A former kindergarten teacher and workshop leader, she traded her storytelling to kids for writing romance, and now she writes romantic comedies and romantic suspense. She lives in Georgia with her own romance hero and three kids. She loves to hear from readers, so please write her at P.O. Box 921225, Norcross, GA 30092-1225, or visit her website, www.ritaherron.com.

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CAST OF CHARACTERS

Detective Miles McGregor—Miles will do anything to protect his son and make sure the man responsible for the boy’s mother’s death pays.

Jordan Keys—Guilt-stricken over her younger brother’s death, she’s determined to help Timmy. But she can’t fall for the boy’s father, a handsome Texas cowboy, because he’ll leave her like dust in the wind when the case is solved.

Timmy McGregor—The only witness to his mother’s murder, but he has no memory of that night….

Marie Younger—Timmy’s mother died at the hands of the Slasher. But was she as innocent as she seemed?

Robert Dugan—This smooth-talking businessman was convicted of being the Slasher, but he swears he was set up. Does he want revenge because he was wrongly accused or because Miles pointed out what a monster he is?

Renee Balwinger—She gave Robert Dugan an alibi for the murder of Timmy’s mother—but is she lying to protect the man, who also happens to be her lover?

Janet Bridges—Dugan was in love with her, but now she’s missing. Is she helping him, or running from him herself?

CeeCee Dugan—Dugan’s mother: is she really alive?

Paul Belsa—He was Marie’s lover. Could he have killed her instead of Dugan?

Pruitt Ables—What does he have to do with Dugan and the Slasher crimes?

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Excerpt

Prologue

The verdict was in.

Perspiration beaded on Detective Miles McGregor’s neck. He hoped to hell it was guilty. Robert Dugan deserved to die.

He had killed four women so far, brutal stabbings that had left his victims raw and exposed to the elements, suffering as they bled out, alone and frightened.

The coldhearted bastard.

Marie’s face flashed in his mind, a reminder that his son’s mother could have been a victim just like these other women.

Remorse hit him for the way their relationship had soured over time. They’d had a brief affair when he was in between cases a few years ago, and she’d gotten pregnant. He’d offered to marry her, but she hadn’t wanted it. She said he was married to the job.

That was true. But during this case he’d worried about her. Not because he was in love with her, but he did care, dammit. And his son needed them to be on the same page. To get along.

He’d make it up to her for not being around the past few months. He’d be the man she wanted. The one she deserved.

The father his little boy, Timmy, needed.

He took a deep breath, splashed cold water on his face, then grabbed a paper towel and dried his beard-stubbled face. One look into the mirror and he cursed.

Damn, he looked like hell.

He hadn’t slept since this case had started, since he’d seen that first victim’s body. He’d thought catching the maniac would help him rest, but still the images haunted him.

Only seeing Dugan rot in jail would ease the pain.

He tossed the paper towel into the trash, strode from the men’s room toward the courtroom, then slipped inside and took a seat on the bench behind the prosecutor. He’d testified, and now he wanted to watch the look on Dugan’s face when he was convicted and sentenced to death row.

At least he hoped to hell he was convicted. DNA evidence had been iffy, and Dugan had managed to make sure he’d left no witnesses behind, so circumstantial evidence, a partial fingerprint, the profile from the Behavioral Crime Unit and Miles’s testimony had made the case.

He wiped his sweaty hands on his pants. It might not be enough.

A low murmur of voices rippled through the courtroom as the door opened, and the jurors filed in, heads bowed, faces pinched and drawn. Twelve people who held the future of one man in their hands.

A future that, if he was released, would cost more women their lives.

Miles had no doubt in his mind about that.

The bailiff cleared his throat. “All rise for the Honorable Judge Fenton.”

Everyone stood while the judge entered, then Dugan strode in, his slender face etched with worry in spite of the cool facade he tried to paint as he took his seat.

The judge pounded the gavel, then asked for the verdict, and the jury foreman stood and handed the bailiff the envelope. The man who’d led the jury was a hard-assed construction worker who Miles had liked on sight because he could tell the man had been raised right, to respect women and see through the fake charms of men like Dugan.