Fearless Gunfighter

This courageous rodeo star is one lethal attraction...

Rodeo rider Tucker Lawrence lives for risk—even after seeing his best friend die in a rodeo accident. But there’s no chance in hell he’s going to let FBI agent Sydney Maxwell tackle treacherous Texas Hill Country alone to find her missing sister. Even if the pretty profiler is putting his guarded heart in danger...

With her sister in the hands of a serial killer, Sydney will break all the rules she has to. Tucker is as reckless as he is charming, but his trail savvy and courage are invaluable as they run her quarry to ground. Still, Sydney can’t afford to gamble that the irresistible passion flaring between them is anything but an adrenaline rush. Or that they’ll survive long enough for real love...

The only thing that really mattered was finding Rachel and the rest of the missing women.

Sydney’s hand was already on the door handle when Tucker stopped at the gate to the Double K Ranch.

“I’ve got it,” Tucker said. “A real cowboy never lets the bloody wounded do the work.”

“More of the cowboy code?”

“If it’s not, it should be.”

She watched him unlatch the gate and swing it open. It was midmorning now and the sun glistened on his shirtless shoulders and chest. His muscles rippled. Bull-rider muscles, and he’d be back to that soon.

But for now he was making it clear that he was all hers. The shocker was that she was thankful to have him around.

Fearless Gunfighter

Joanna Wayne

www.millsandboon.co.uk

JOANNA WAYNE began her professional writing career in 1994. Now, more than fifty published books later, Joanna has gained a worldwide following with her cutting-edge romantic suspense and Texas family series, such as Sons of Troy Ledger and Big “D” Dads. Joanna currently resides in a small community north of Houston, Texas, with her husband. You may write to Joanna at PO Box 852, Montgomery, TX 77356, USA or connect with her at www.joannawayne.com.

To my wonderful friend and neighbor Zona, the only former

rocket scientist I can always count on to have an extra Diet Coke

on hand. And in memory of her loving husband, Jim, who actually

did help put a man on the moon. Also, a call-out to all my friends

who love the rodeo and bull riders as much as I do. Happy reading, all.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

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

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Saturday, September 9

Rachel Maxwell opened her eyes. The world remained black. She tried to lift her arms, but blistering pain attacked with the slightest movement. She was alive. That was all she was certain of. Death couldn’t hurt this bad.

Her pupils slowly adjusted to the darkness, but the hammering inside her skull was so intense her brain couldn’t identify where she was or why. Random thoughts skirted her consciousness.

A faint line of brightness on the other side of the room provided the only illumination. Most likely a space beneath a door, so there must be a light on somewhere. No windows to let in a scant glow of moonlight. No sounds except her own ragged breathing.

She was on her back, stretched out, perhaps in a bed, perhaps not. Her fingers impulsively went to her face. Her cheeks felt swollen, but numb, the only part of her that didn’t ache. She struggled to focus.

Fear swelled, crashing through her like ocean waves as scraps of nightmarish images crept through the shadows of her mind. The man dragging her into his truck. His creepy hands all over her.

And then the punishing blows.

Her stomach heaved as the memories grew more distinct. Not a nightmare, but horrifying reality.

She forced her body to move, slid over until her hand touched what felt like rough, splintered wood. She rolled off what must be no more than a pallet of some kind and onto the hard floor. Every joint and muscle cried out for mercy as she forced herself to scoot up on her elbows and crawl toward the light.

When she reached the door, she struggled to stand, her fingers clawing at the door frame until she could wrap them around the doorknob.

She hesitated. If the door opened, it might only lead to more hell. But the faint hint of escape held sway. She turned the knob and shoved her body against it. The door didn’t budge.

She beat on the door with her fists. Agony and hopelessness took hold as she slid back to the floor. Tears filled her eyes and sobs shook her pain-racked body. She’d been imprisoned by a monster. The worst was no doubt yet to come.

Chapter Two

Tucker Lawrence braked his mud-encrusted black pickup truck in front of a small stucco-and-wood house on a quiet neighborhood street on the outskirts of Lubbock, Texas.

The home was veiled in darkness. No sounds. No sign of movement, which meant Lauren Hernandez hadn’t heard the news yet. The words that would wreak havoc on her life and rip the heart from her chest.

He’d exceeded the speed limits to be the first one here, no easy feat in West Texas, where posted limits were frequently eighty miles per hour with a few stretches at eighty-five. He hadn’t wanted Lauren to hear the tragic truth from a stranger.

He’d be letting Rod down if he did.

So now he’d be the one to walk up that sidewalk and ring the bell. He’d tell Lauren that the man she loved with all her heart, the father of their three young children, would never come walking through the front door again.

He wrapped his hand around the truck’s door handle, but couldn’t bring himself to twist it. Instead he let his head fall to the steering wheel as the heartbreaking images claimed his mind.

Six seconds into the ride on the toughest bull to come out of the chute last night. From the crack of the opening gate, Rod was doing everything right. Great technique. Terrific form. Spurring and staying in control of the bucking, twisting, spinning monster of an animal.

Two seconds to go when the bull went into a spin that threw Rod from the animal’s back and drew him into the vortex. All Tucker could see from his position behind the chutes was a tangle of hooves and human body as Rod tried to free himself from impending disaster.

By the time the bull stamped off, Rod wasn’t moving. He’d died two hours later from trauma to the brain.

Rod. Laughing, joking, adrenaline running high a few hours ago. Now he was gone. All because he’d lost a battle of wills with a stupid bull acting on instinct.

It wasn’t wholly about the money. Nor the glory. Nor the comradery, though all played a part in the rodeo life. It was the thrill of competition, living on the edge, facing death and never believing you wouldn’t walk away, sore but breathing.

Tucker opened the door and stepped out of the truck. Dread tore at his heart anew with each clap of his boots along the cement walk. He’d do what he came for, break the news to Lauren as gently as he could.

He wouldn’t even try to convince her the risk had been worth it. He wasn’t sure he believed that himself now. Bull riding had lost its glory when he’d watched his friend Rod take his final breath.

But where did a man go when he walked away from the only life he knew?

Chapter Three

Monday, September 18

FBI profiler and special agent Sydney Maxwell stepped into her supervisor’s office, nerves taut, geared for a fight she’d likely lose. Still, it was worth a try. If her worst fear was realized, she’d need all the inside information she could get.

Roland Farmer stood as she walked in and motioned toward the seat facing his desk. He smiled. She didn’t. She liked Roland and respected his judgment, but at this moment none of that mattered to her.

Roland sat down after her, leaned back in his leather chair and tented his fingers. He stared for a few seconds before speaking as if he were trying to assess her mood.

He should have no trouble doing that. It was fear, resolve and urgency. But Roland would quickly pick up more. He’d see her determination and hear the desperation in her voice.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She nodded. She was far from all right, but she couldn’t lead off with that, not if she was to have a chance of influencing Roland to listen to reason.

“What’s on your mind that’s so important it couldn’t wait?” he asked.

“I don’t know if you’re familiar with the situation, but three young women have gone missing over the past six months in the Texas Hill Country under bizarre circumstances. The body of another was found two days ago in a wooded area just outside the small town of Winding Creek.”

“Winding Creek, Texas,” Roland repeated. “Why does that ring a bell?”

“It was a big story on cable news for months about a year ago. A toddler fell and died from a head trauma while his mother was spaced out on heroin.”

“Right,” Roland said. “It’s coming back to me. It wasn’t our case but the mother had the whole town searching for the kid when she claimed he’d been kidnapped.

“A wealthy family, if I remember correctly. One of those ranchers whose cows scratch their backs on oil rigs. But back to the missing women. I take it you think this is a case for the FBI to look into?”

“I do. One of the missing women is from Shreveport, Louisiana, crosses state lines, so it meets our guidelines.”

Roland scratched his chin. “You’ll be pleased that the powers that be agree with you. It helped that the local Texas law authorities contacted the Bureau last night and requested their help. They are concerned they may have a serial killer on their hands even though only the one body has been found.”

“How soon will we be sending an investigative team to the area?”

“I’d guess an assessment team will be in the field within the next forty-eight hours—maybe sooner. Jackson Clark in the Dallas field office will head up the investigation.”

A tinge of relief only slightly eased her apprehension. “They’ll need a profiler as well as several agents in order to move quickly.”

“Are you volunteering to join Jackson’s team?”

She nodded. “It makes sense. I went to school at University of Texas, UT, in Austin. I know my way around the area.”

“I can put in your request with Jackson. He’s aware of your success on the Swamp Strangler case. I’m sure he’s impressed enough to consider you.”

She’d only met Jackson Clark once when she’d attended a weeklong seminar he’d conducted in Quantico. He was a giant of a man, intimidating, demanding—a brilliant investigator. He was not known for being easily impressed.

There was no one she’d rather see handle this case.

Roland rolled his chair closer to the desk and drummed the eraser end of a pencil against a closed folder. “The only problem I see is that you seem to be taking this case personally, Sydney. If that has anything to do with the woman you couldn’t save from the Swamp Strangler, you have to let that go and move on.”

“It’s not that.” She couldn’t lie. It was only a matter of time before the truth would come out and she’d risk losing her job if she didn’t level with Roland. “It’s even more personal,” she admitted.

Roland spread his hands palms down on the table. “Keep talking.”

“My sister, Rachel, is missing.” The words tore at her heart and her control. She blinked back a tear and stared at the toes of her black pumps.

“I’m so sorry to hear that. Is Rachel the sister who’s an attorney in Houston?”

“Yes. She’s my only sister.” Her only family.

“When did you find out?”

“A few minutes after nine this morning. Connie Ledger, her best friend and a coworker, called when Rachel didn’t show up for work this morning and couldn’t be reached by phone. Connie tried Rachel’s number several times but her attempts resulted in a ‘call cannot be completed’ message.”

Roland’s brows arched. “So basically, you’re saying she didn’t make it into work this morning. There could be a lot of explanations for that.”

“And I wouldn’t be here if that were the case. Rachel took a week’s vacation that started ten days ago on a Friday afternoon. Apparently, no one has heard from her since then.”

Roland straightened, his chin jutting as if he was just clueing in to the fact that this was serious. “And you don’t know where she was vacationing or whom she was with?”

“I know where she was supposed to be. She called me the Friday she left and said she was going to a spa resort near Austin for some R & R.”

“Alone?”

“Yes, but that’s not particularly unusual for Rachel. She’s very independent. Her law firm had just successfully wrapped up a case that she’d worked long hours on for weeks before and during the trial. She sounded exhilarated, but exhausted.”

“I assume you’ve contacted the resort.”

“Yes. Rachel never showed up, nor did she cancel. They tried to reach her to no avail. When I call her number it just says ‘party unavailable.’”

Roland pulled his lips tight across his teeth. “Is she in a relationship?”

“Not currently. She broke up with her boyfriend of four years a little over a month ago. As far as I know, she hasn’t dated anyone since then.”

“I’m sure you’ve talked to her ex.”

“I called Carl this morning. So far, he hasn’t called me back, but Connie reached him earlier. He wasn’t aware Rachel was missing, but offered to meet Connie at Rachel’s apartment to check things out.”

“Did he?”

“No. Connie called the police department instead and an officer met her there. The apartment manager let them in. There was nothing amiss.”

Roland leaned in close, propped his elbows and waited for Sydney to meet his scrutinizing gaze. “I know how alarming this is, but try not to jump to any frightening conclusions before you have all the facts.”

“I’m not assuming anything. I’m not ruling out anything, either. Taking a vacation alone is very much like Rachel. Not returning to work on time is completely foreign to her modus operandi. She is very serious about her work. She’s serious about everything.”

He nodded. “Got it. You’ve got reason to worry. But I’ll have to level with Jackson. It can get sticky working a case you’re personally involved in.”

“I understand, but as part of the investigation team or on my own, I have to get to Texas as soon as possible. I’m prepared to take an emergency leave if necessary and I’ve booked a flight to Houston that leaves here at one.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to do anything less.” He stood and stepped around the corner of his desk. “Even if you’re not officially part of the Bureau’s investigation, I expect you to keep me posted. Call if there’s anything we can do to help.”

“Believe me, I will.”

And with or without Roland’s permission, she’d call on Lane Foster. Best tech geek in the business. If it was in cyberspace, he could find it. She already had a list of requests for him, some she could have done herself if she’d had the time.

Sydney stood and Roland held out his arms for a sympathetic hug that was appreciated though awkward. Roland was normally the strictly business kind of boss.

She gave a final nod, then hurried from the room, closing the door behind her. If her sister was in any kind of trouble, time was of the essence.

No one knew that better than Sydney.

Chapter Four

It was a few minutes after seven when Sydney finally made it to the front door of Rachel’s condo. She’d spent most of the three hours since she’d landed renting a car, filling out a missing person’s report at the downtown police precinct and being interviewed by a blunt but hopefully efficient detective. The rest of the time had been spent fighting traffic.

The detective had promised to give the case top priority though she had the distinct impression he wouldn’t, at least not yet. Thankfully, she had Lane behind the scenes.

Her nerves tensed as she rummaged in her oversize travel purse for the key. Her sister had moved into the luxurious high-rise with her long-term boyfriend Carl Upton less than a year ago.

Rachel still loved the apartment but her relationship with Carl had withered and died. He’d moved out last month, and according to Rachel, they’d both moved on. He still hadn’t returned her call from this morning.

Key in hand, Sydney still hesitated. It wasn’t that she was afraid of what she’d find. Connie had assured her that she and the police officer had checked out every square inch of the living quarters.

It was exhaustion, fear and the dread of facing the emptiness that held Sydney back now. She forced herself to turn the key and step inside.

Sydney rolled her luggage out of the doorway and dropped her purse and her briefcase onto the small table in the entryway. The staggering sense of emptiness she’d expected didn’t materialize.

Instead, the space overflowed with Rachel’s aura of warmth. The scent of the many candles she’d burned whenever she was home lingered in the still air.

Everything was meticulously in order, as always. Sydney had missed out on their father’s neat-freak gene but Rachel had it in spades.

Sydney walked through the living area and into the kitchen. Nothing amiss there, either. A check of the refrigerator revealed a few jars of condiments and preserves on the door shelves and very little else.

Anything that would have spoiled while she was at the resort had obviously been tossed. The kitchen trash can was also empty. Rachel was a stickler for details. And the most reliable person Sydney knew.

She would never fail to show up for work without contacting someone.

So where was she now?

Sydney’s mind searched desperately as it had all day for explanations that didn’t include a conclusion too horrible to imagine. Nonetheless, the serial-killer scenario skulked through her thoughts like a dark shadow, creating a biting chill that reached to the bone.

But that was the worst-case scenario. She had to move past the crippling fear and focus on even the smallest scraps of evidence that could lead her to Rachel.

Was it possible she’d had a nervous breakdown from the pressures she’d put on herself to become the youngest partner at Fitch, Fitch and Baumer?

No. She had too much grit for that. If things had gotten that bad, she’d have told the senior partners off and walked away from the job.

Had she been in a car crash that left her in a coma? Or perhaps had an accident that left her with temporary amnesia?

Only Sydney—with Lane’s help—had checked every emergency room and hospital for miles around. No patients fit her description. And her car had not been located.

Sydney’s cell phone rang. She checked the caller ID. Lane. She felt anxious and hopeful at the same time. God, did she need some good news.

“What do you have for me?” she asked as soon as they’d exchanged a quick hello.

“Rachel has used two credit cards since the last time she was seen by her coworkers.”

“When, where and how much?”

“She used an American Express card on Saturday morning to pay for a room at a bed-and-breakfast in La Grange, Texas.”

“Would that be on her route to Austin?”

“It would. I’ll send you the rest of the details. Time, name of the B and B, address and phone number.”

“Good. What else do you have?”

“She withdrew three hundred dollars cash from an ATM a few minutes after noon that same day in the neighboring town of Winding Creek.”

Winding Creek, where the body had been found. The reference rattled her nerves so badly she had to hold on to the back of the nearest chair for support.

“Do we have a photo to prove that it was actually her who withdrew the cash?”

“Working on it,” Lane said.

“Were those Rachel’s only charges?”

“No. She made a purchase at Dani’s Delights, also in Winding Creek, for sixty-five dollars and eighty-nine cents at two eighteen.”

“What kind of store is that?”

“A bakery and coffee shop.”

“Rachel barely eats. She’d have never paid that much for java and scones. I don’t have a map in front of me. Is Winding Creek near Austin?”

“It’s south of Austin, closer to San Antonio, but not far out of her way once she left La Grange.”

“What’s the draw to Winding Creek? Why would she go out of her way to visit that town?”

“I don’t have the answer to that.”

“We know Rachel was there a little after two on Saturday afternoon and then never made it to her scheduled destination. So somewhere between Winding Creek and the resort, Rachel’s plans were ambushed.”

“That’s the gist of what I’ve found so far.”

Sydney struggled to focus as the fear swelled to near suffocating. “Were you able to locate her phone?”

“Not yet. It’s not putting out a signal.”

It could be at the bottom of Winding Creek or perhaps hammered to smithereens like the Swamp Strangler destroyed the phones of his victims.

“Thanks for your help, Lane. At least I have a starting point.”

If she left now, she could easily make it to Winding Creek tonight. If it was like most small Texas towns, the sidewalk would have already been rolled up by the time she got there, but at least she’d be there when the sun came up tomorrow morning.

Rachel could be most anywhere between here and Austin, but Winding Creek was the next stop for Sydney.

* * *

HANK’S HANGOUT WAS the only place within miles of Winding Creek that was still open at eleven thirty on Monday evening. Sydney could thank Siri for finding it.

Not that she wanted a drink or company, but it was a place to start.

She pulled into the almost-empty parking lot and got out of her car. A neon sign touted live music on the weekends and all-night happy-hour prices on Monday.

Merle Haggard’s voice greeted her as she stepped inside. Faded publicity posters on the wall dated back to the era of Patsy Cline, Johnny Cash and Willie Nelson during his much-earlier years. Vintage metal plaques cautioned spurs should be removed before dancing on the bar and that horses should remain outside unless they were paying customers.

Hopefully those were in jest, though from looking at the scratched and marred surface of the bar, it had likely seen some boot scooting.

She considered staking out a bar stool, but that would have left her with her back to the rest of the room. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for exactly, but anything would be better than staring at the ceiling of the motel she’d booked when sleep would be almost impossible tonight.