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“That shouldn’t have happened,” she said, her voice not much louder than a whisper.
“No. It shouldn’t have.” He didn’t try to kiss her again.
She leaned her head against his chest. “It won’t happen again.”
“Count on it.” He held her into the night as she fell into a troubled sleep. She clung to him, her body shaking, her head twisting back and forth as nightmares disturbed her slumber.
In the small hours of the morning, Pierce spooned her body against his, his gaze on the dying embers of the fire, his thoughts swirling around the shooting, the dirt bike, Roxanne and the bullet and wrapper they’d found in the cave.
Sleep escaped him with her body close to his and the wad of evidence in his pocket. The more he mulled over everything, the more dread filled his chest, crushing him with worry.
About the Author
A Golden Heart Award winner for Best Paranormal Romance in 2004, ELLE JAMES started writing when her sister issued a Y2K challenge to write a romance novel. She has managed a full-time job and raised three wonderful children, and she and her husband even tried their hands at ranching exotic birds (ostriches, emus and rheas) in the Texas Hill Country. Ask her, and she’ll tell you what it’s like to go toe-to-toe with an angry 350-pound bird! After leaving her successful career in information technology management, Elle is now pursuing her writing full-time. She loves building exciting stories about heroes, heroines, romance and passion. Elle loves to hear from fans. You can contact her at [email protected] or visit her website at www.ellejames.com.
Thunder Horse
Redemption
Elle James
MILLS & BOON
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Chapter One
His tailbone bruised, his thighs protesting the prolonged position, Pierce Thunder Horse shifted in the saddle. He hadn’t been on a horse in over two months. There wasn’t much call for FBI special agents to saddle up.
His typical visits to the family ranch were short. He loved his mother and brothers and would do anything for them, but the ranch held too many memories. Pierce didn’t come home often—it hurt too much.
With Tuck’s upcoming wedding, he couldn’t avoid returning. The frenetic wedding planning served as a stark reminder of Pierce’s own wedding that wasn’t. When his mother had mentioned that someone should really check on the local herd of wild horses, Pierce had jumped at the chance to get away from the hubbub. But he’d ridden half of the day and had yet to find the herd. Soon he’d run out of Thunder Horse Ranch property and cross over onto the Carmichael Ranch.
Roxanne Carmichael.
The redheaded hellion, his former fiancée, had been the love of his life. She was also the one who’d called off their wedding when her brother Mason had died on the job, thanks to Pierce’s mistake.
His chest tightened, his hands gripping the reins so tightly his knuckles whitened. Why couldn’t he locate the blasted herd? He was out here to find the horses, not mull over what had happened.
Every member of the Thunder Horse family had a deep connection to the wild horses of the badlands. They always felt they needed to make sure the herd was healthy and thriving, even though official responsibility for the area’s wild horses rested with the representative of the Bureau of Land Management—Roxanne. Damn! Had he really thought riding out to check on the herd would stop him from thinking about her? If so, he was a fool. Their love of the wild horses had brought them together.
Pierce remembered as if it had been yesterday the night he and Roxanne had saved a lost horse from a snowstorm. Roxanne had asked Pierce to help her bring the filly to her barn, where they’d nursed her to health and kept her warm and fed until the mare could be located and the two reunited. He’d known Roxanne for years, but that was the first time he’d realized what an amazing woman she’d become. It had been the beginning of their courtship. Eight months later, he’d asked her to marry him. And two months ago, she’d ended it.
Since then, he’d buried himself in his work to avoid the pain, the blame and the loss. He’d made it his objective to dodge memories and force to the back of his mind the date of his own wedding that hadn’t happened and never would. But now that he was back at the Thunder Horse Ranch, Pierce had way too much time on his hands. Plus, the ranch carried too many memories—not just of Roxanne, but of Mason, who had been Pierce’s friend since they were kids. The familiar settings only managed to dredge the painful memories back to the surface, a constant reminder of his failure professionally and personally.
A cold chill slithered down Pierce’s back, chasing away the warmth of an early summer day in the North Dakota badlands.
He glanced up at the position of the sun as it dropped toward the horizon, his gaze lowering to the landscape. Nothing moved and only the sound of his horse’s hooves clomping against the ground and the creak of leather interrupted his tumultuous thoughts.
With the sun so close to setting, Pierce wasn’t going to find the herd and still have time to return to the ranch house before dark. Pierce had tugged his reins to the left, aiming the horse toward the barn, when a loud bang ripped through the silence.
Was that gunfire?
Bear, his stallion, danced beneath him, whinnying his fright.
Pierce spun back around and squinted against the setting sun, his gaze panning the prairie. Firing a weapon on the plains was rare but not unheard of, although it wasn’t hunting season. Should he check it out? The sound had come from somewhere on the Carmichael Ranch. He hesitated, not at all anxious to cross over onto Carmichael property. He couldn’t see anything, but his gut told him someone could be in trouble.
Another shot rang out.
Pierce nudged his horse.
Already nervous, Bear leaped forward, his legs stretching into a gallop, eating up the distance on the sparsely vegetated ground between him and whoever was shooting.
A smudge rose above the landscape, capturing Pierce’s attention. From this distance, he couldn’t tell if it was smoke or dust.
If the cloud was smoke, it meant a wildfire on the prairie.
The puff grew as Pierce approached. In the middle of the cloud of dirt rising from the dry prairie grass, a horse and rider emerged, riding hell-for-leather.
The rider leaned far forward, almost one with the horse, urging