“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 ellejames@earthlink.net or visit her website at www.ellejames.com.

Thunder Horse
Redemption
Elle James

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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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 it faster.

As they neared, Pierce made out a small vehicle in pursuit. A dirt bike, the man steering it bent low over the handlebar.

As the horse and rider approached, the cowboy’s hat flew from her head and a mass of deep auburn hair spilled out, flowing behind her.

Pierce couldn’t mistake that red hair. It had to be Roxanne Carmichael, riding like her life depended on it.

His heart thumped, pressing hard against his ribs, making it difficult for him to breathe. Every instinct to protect what had once been his reared up in Pierce’s consciousness. He spurred his mount to move faster.

Before he could reach her, another shot rang out and nicked the hindquarters of Roxanne’s mare.

Already in a state of agitation, the horse bucked, then reared so suddenly that Roxanne toppled from the saddle, landing hard, flat on her back.

The mare took off, racing away from the dirt bike, leaving Roxanne at the mercy of the shooter.

The dirt bike, which had stopped while the driver fired his gun, now roared toward her again, speed increasing instead of decreasing, aiming directly for the woman lying on the ground.

At the last moment Roxanne rolled to the side, avoiding being hit.

Still too far away to intervene, Pierce pulled his rifle from the scabbard on his saddle and fired a round into the air. At the same time he dug his heels into Bear’s flanks, pushing him to close the distance.

The shooter slowed and spun the bike to face Pierce, his dark helmet hiding his face. He lifted his hand, pointing it toward Pierce.

Sun glinted off the metal of the pistol he carried.

Pierce yanked Bear’s reins to the side, forcing the animal to zigzag toward his target.

Another shot rang out.

Pierce answered, firing his rifle, careful to aim high to avoid hitting Roxanne. With the horse’s movements the shot could go just about anywhere. All he might hope for was to scare the bastard away.

When Pierce didn’t back down, the man on the bike spun his vehicle, the rear tire skidding sideways, kicking up dust in a dense cloud. The rider sped off across the prairie in the opposite direction. Within seconds, he disappeared over a rise, leaving a faint haze of dust in his wake.

Pierce raced to where Roxanne lay on the ground, ignoring the instinct pressing him to pursue the rider. His own need to find and capture the man who’d shot at Roxanne mattered far less than making sure Roxanne herself wasn’t badly injured. He jerked back hard on the reins, forcing his horse to rear and spin all in one motion. As soon as Bear’s hooves touched ground, Pierce flung himself out of the saddle and ran toward Roxanne.

She lay flat on her back, cursing beneath her breath.

Pierce let out the gulp of air he’d been holding and chuckled. She couldn’t be hurt badly if she had the energy and wherewithal to form coherent curses.

Roxanne pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose, her eyes squeezed shut. “Did you get the license plate of the truck that hit me?” she asked.

Dropping to his knees beside her, Pierce ran his hands over her arms and legs, searching for fractured bones.

“I’m pretty sure there’s nothing broken,” she said, pushing his hands away as her eyes fluttered open. “Hello, Pierce.” Her wide blue gaze was cool and wary. It hit Pierce like a gut punch to see her look at him with none of the warmth or love he’d cherished. He reminded himself that he was lucky she was even talking to him. After what he’d done, he wouldn’t blame her if she never spoke to him again.

His chest tightened as his fingers slid up her arms. “Hello, Roxy. Are you okay?” He touched her gently, his hands moving around to the backs of her shoulders to help her sit up.

She leaned away from his touch then swayed and would have fallen back if Pierce hadn’t reached behind her and steadied her with his arm. “Just had the wind knocked out of me in that fall. I’ll be all right,” she replied.

He leaned her against his chest to keep her from toppling over and further injuring herself, his heart clenching at the familiar aroma of her hair—honeysuckle and hay and the incongruous scent of copper, indicating fresh blood. When his right hand pulled away from her shoulder, it was red with her blood. “You’ve been injured, and not from the fall. Care to tell me how?”

“What?” She stared at the blood on his hand. “I’m bleeding?”

“Yes.” He ripped off his denim shirt and the clean white T-shirt beneath, tearing a piece from the hem. He folded the soft fabric into a tight square wad and pressed it to the wound on her left shoulder, frowning as he evaluated the injury. It appeared to be just a nick, but it could have been so much worse.

“The shoulder doesn’t hurt as bad as the back of my head.” She pressed her fingers to the back of her skull.

Pierce brushed her hand aside and parted her hair, finding a soft knot. “More than likely, you’ll live. The shot to your shoulder was just a flesh wound. Are you up-to-date on your tetanus shot?”

“Had one a couple weeks ago.” She snorted. “Stepped on a nail.”

Pierce shook his head. “Sounds like you. You seem to follow trouble.”

Roxanne sighed. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“What just happened here? Why was that man shooting at you?”

She started to shake her head, until the movement made her wince and clutch at the back of her head. “Remember the filly we rescued from the snowstorm two years ago?”

Pierce swallowed hard on the lump clogging his throat, remembering the night he’d fallen in love with Roxanne. “Sweet Jessie?”

“Yeah, that one.” Roxanne opened her eyes wide and blinked several times. “I was following Sweet Jessie toward the canyon, hoping she’d lead me to the herd of wild horses, when I heard a shot from behind. I felt a sting and when I turned around, that dirt bike was behind me. I took off, he followed after me…You know the rest.”

“Do you have any idea who the biker was?” Pierce hadn’t been able to make an identification, but it had been years since he’d lived full-time on the ranch. Roxanne would be more familiar with the locals—and their bikes—than him.

“No.” She pinched the bridge of her nose again. “It’s a bit blurry. I must have hit the ground pretty hard, just now. I was good until then.”

Pierce stared into her eyes. “You could have a concussion. Can you get up on your own?”

“Absolutely.” She pushed away from him and staggered to her feet. Then she swayed and her knees buckled, tipping her over into Pierce.

Pierce straightened, then hooked his arm beneath her knees and scooped her up, settling her against his chest. He glanced around, searching for Bear. He gave a short, sharp whistle.

The stallion trotted toward him, snorting and tossing his mane, still hyped up from the mad dash to save Roxanne.

“Easy, Mato Cikala.” Little Bear. Pierce spoke low and slow in his native Lakota language as he approached the spooked horse, maintaining eye contact with the animal the entire time.

Ultimately, the stallion calmed, his dancing hooves settling to a stop in the dry prairie grass.

Pierce lifted Roxanne up onto the saddle, seating her sideways. He placed her hands on the saddle horn and said, “Hold on.”

Roxanne’s lips tightened. “I know how to ride a horse.”

“I know,” he said, before he placed his boot in the stirrup and mounted behind her. Then he slid into the saddle, lifting her to sit across his lap.

“This is silly. I can handle a horse by myself.”

“You may be fully capable, but I don’t intend to walk all the way to the ranch.”

“My mare—”

“Is halfway back to the barn by now.” He bit hard on his tongue to keep from saying more. He knew she didn’t want to be anywhere near him, so the least he could do was make the trip as unobtrusive as possible. Besides, when they weren’t talking—arguing—he could almost pretend that things were the way they used to be. Pretend she didn’t hate him…and that he didn’t hate himself.

The stubborn look on her face didn’t match the glazed look in her eyes and the way she swayed as she sat there alone.

His heart clinched. “Try not to argue, for once.”

“I DON’T ARGUE,” SHE muttered, her body naturally leaning against his, despite her better judgment.

With her brain somewhat fuzzy, she had to work to remind herself that Pierce Thunder Horse wasn’t someone she could trust.

When she realized he was headed away from her ranch, Roxanne frowned. “You’re going the wrong way.”

“I’m taking you home with me.”

“I can’t go home with you! Some maniac is out there on a dirt bike shooting up every rider he sees—I need to get home so I can call the sheriff and tell him what happened. Then I need to check on my horse and make sure she got back safe and isn’t badly hurt. And when that’s done, I’ll need to saddle back up to go check on Sweet Jessie—I think the bullet that winged me might have hit her, too, but I didn’t have a chance to check.”

“You can call the sheriff from our house—for all the good that will do—and you can call your foreman to check on your horse. Jim knows your stables as well as you do, and he’ll be able to take care of the mare if anything’s wrong. As for Sweet Jessie, I’ll send one of my brothers back to check on her. But right now, you’ve got a bullet hole in your shoulder, and every sign of a concussion. You need to go where people can take care of you.”

“And you think you can take care of me?” As soon as the words came out, they both flinched. She knew it was a low blow to throw Mason in Pierce’s face, even if he had fallen short on his promise to keep her brother safe. They both knew what Pierce had done—he’d never offered any excuses for what had happened to Mason, not even when she’d begged him to explain.

“It’s my responsibility to personally verify the status of the wild horses,” she said, choosing to change the subject. She glanced behind them as if she could see to where she’d left Sweet Jessie. “I can’t just let someone else take care of it.” I’ve got responsibilities, too, she wanted to say—but didn’t.

“The sooner you stop arguing, the sooner you can get fixed up enough to leave. Until then, you’re on my horse and we’re going to my house.”

She stared up into his face and recognized that Thunder Horse stubborn streak in the tightness of his jaw. He wasn’t going to budge on the matter.

The ache in her head intensified and her shoulder burned where she’d been nicked. She willed herself to be stronger, squeezing closed her eyes as a wave of nausea washed over her. When she opened her eyes, her vision was no less blurry, maybe having something to do with the tears of frustration threatening to fall.

Dear God, she refused to cry in front of Pierce. She’d already spent the past two months crying when no one was looking.

With her horse gone, the shooter still at large and herself just about too tired and bruised to muster up the energy to do anything at all, she decided not to argue with the man. Instead, she clamped shut her lips and tried to keep as far away from Pierce as possible. A difficult task, considering she was sitting in his lap.

After a few minutes, the sway of the horse lulled her into a daze. Giving up the fight, she leaned into his body and stayed there the rest of the ride back to the Thunder Horse Ranch.

The scent of leather and denim and the familiar earthy, musky male aroma set her heart beating faster and heat radiating throughout her body, reminding her of better times and of all they’d lost.

If she hadn’t called off the engagement then she and Pierce would have married by now. They might even have had a baby on the way. She’d loved Pierce so much, had been so sure that she’d finally found someone she could count on, someone who could be a real partner in her life as well as a lover. Losing that hope had hurt. It still hurt.

A sob rose in her throat, choking off the air to her lungs. Her head aching with each passing mile, Roxanne stiffened and tried to move away from Pierce.

The arm around her tightened, pinning her. Short of making a big fuss and possibly falling off the horse, Roxanne had no choice but to stay put.

Rather than relive their final days as an engaged couple, Roxanne forced herself to think through what had just happened. “What do you think that man was after?” she wondered out loud.

“I don’t know, but he seemed pretty determined to shoot you.” Pierce’s grip tightened on the reins.

The stallion danced sideways, seemingly confused by his rider’s instruction to slow.

A slight movement of Pierce’s legs, and loosening the reins, set the horse in a forward motion again.

“If someone wanted to shoot me, why would he wait until I was out in the canyon? There are easier ways to find me, in places where he could have gotten close enough to get a much better shot.”

Pierce liked that thought even less if the way he tensed was any indication, but before he could reply, the stallion beneath them stumbled, jolting Roxanne. She winced, pressing a hand to the back of her skull. “Ouch. Must have hit my head harder than I thought.”

“I’ll get the doctor to come out as soon as I’ve got you settled.”

“I’m fine. Just a flesh wound and a bump on the noggin. I’ll be back in the saddle by morning.”

“Not if you have a concussion.” His voice was firm, unyielding. “The doctor will have to clear you to my satisfaction before I let you leave the ranch.”

“Hey, get this straight, mister.” She poked him in the chest. “The decisions about what I can and cannot do are between me and the doctor. You’ve got no part in them, or in anything else that has to do with me.”

She recognized the mulish expression on his face and knew what he’d say before he even opened his mouth. “When you don’t know what’s good for you then somebody has to step in.”

“You’re not good for me—we’re not good for each other. We can’t even ride a couple of miles of trail together without fighting.” She took a deep breath, forcing her voice to sound calm, collected. “Just let me go home, Pierce. I’m not your problem anymore, and I can take care of myself. I’ve been running a ranch by myself for years. I think I can make my own decisions.”

Another jolt and the pain reverberating around the inside of her skull made her cringe. Well, darn it all. Why did she have to be so weak in front of the one man she’d sworn to never show an ounce of vulnerability again?

“Look,” Pierce said. “I don’t want you at the ranch any more than you want to be there. But I won’t let you go home until the doc says you can.”

Her chest tightened at his harsh words. Once they could barely stand to be apart. Now they could barely stand to be together. Too much had happened. Irreversible actions and words with permanent consequences. “Okay, I’ll stay until the doctor can convince you that I’m all right. Which I am.”

Roxanne didn’t relish the idea of being at the Thunder Horse Ranch with Pierce there. She’d been over a couple times to meet Tuck’s fiancée and get measured for her bridesmaid dress, but she’d left as soon as possible to avoid any chance of running into Pierce.

Why did he have to be the one to find her out in the canyon? Why couldn’t it have been Tuck, or one of Pierce’s other brothers? Why did her already horrible day have to sink to the new low of having to depend on the man who’d encouraged her brother to join the FBI and then let him die in that explosion?

What had happened had been inexcusable and irreversible. She knew that for sure. Not because of the FBI—the official word they had given her was that Mason’s death had been ruled unavoidable.

No. Roxanne knew Pierce was responsible for her brother’s death because that was what he had told her himself.

Chapter Two

Pierce insisted on carrying Roxanne into the cavernous great room of the Thunder Horse Ranch house, despite her objections. The feel of her body against his brought back so many memories he could barely breathe.

“I can walk, really.” She kicked her legs and pushed against his chest. “Let me down.” Twin flags of color rose in her cheeks as he entered the room where two of his brothers and his mother stood gaping at them.

Stopping just inside the entry, Pierce braced himself for the onslaught of questions his family was sure to ask.

His mother was the first to remember her manners. “Roxy, good to see you, sweetie,” she said as though it was an everyday occurrence for her son to stroll in carrying his ex-fiancée. “Oh, dear, is that blood?” She lifted a hand to her own cheek, her eyes widening. “For goodness’ sake, Pierce, let her have the lounge chair,” she commanded. “I’ll get some coffee. Maddox, you call Doc Taylor. Pierce, give Dante the details of what happened in case you need his help with anything else.”

Pierce smiled despite the gravity of the situation. Though thin and petite, his mother had a will of iron, with a bossy streak to match. She didn’t hesitate to tell her boys what to do, no matter that they were all grown men who now towered over her small frame.

“Yeah, what happened?” Dante planted himself in front of Pierce, his gaze taking in the torn shirt and bloodstains. “Are you hurt, too?” His arms crossed over his chest, his eyebrows knitting in a fierce frown, clearly ready to take on anyone who might be a danger to their family.

“I’m fine, Roxanne’s the only one hurt,” Pierce said. “Found her out on the northernmost corner of the ranch.” Pierce’s jaw tightened. “Someone was using her for target practice.”

“The chair?” Roxanne tipped her head toward the chair Pierce’s mother had indicated. “At least put me down. It’s not like I can’t walk.”

“Yeah, why are you carrying her?” Dante asked. “Are her legs injured, too?”

“She’s not all that steady on her feet. Her horse threw her and she hit her head. I think she might have a concussion.” Pierce relented and eased Roxanne into the chair.

“What were you doing out by the canyons?” Dante asked, turning his focus to Roxanne.

“I was checking on the wild horses.” Roxanne sat in the chair, her chin tipped upward, one hand feeling the back of her head. She winced. “I was following Sweet Jessie. I found her by the watering hole near North Canyon. When I went down to check on her, I heard a loud bang. Something stung my arm and almost knocked me out of the saddle. Whatever nicked me, hit Jessie—most likely in the shoulder, but I couldn’t say for sure. She might have tripped or been hit because I think I saw her drop to the ground before my mount took off. The shooter came after me. That’s when Pierce found us.”

Dante swore. “Did you see who it was?”

Roxanne sighed. “No. I didn’t. He was on a dirt bike in full-coverage gear, including a helmet.”

Tuck entered the room, carrying his baby girl, Lily. “What’s going on?”

His beautiful blonde fiancée, Julia Anderson, followed him. When she noticed Roxanne on the chair, she hurried around to stand in front of her. “Good Lord, Roxanne, are you all right?”

Pierce frowned. Apparently the two women had already met while Pierce had been wrapping up his previous assignment in Bismarck. What else had he missed?

Roxanne smiled. “Don’t worry, Julia, I’ll be fine for the wedding.” She pushed against the seat cushions, preparing to stand.

Julia laid a hand on her uninjured shoulder. “I’m not worried about the wedding. I want to know what happened to you. Holy smokes, you’re bleeding.” Julia reached out to touch Roxanne’s other arm where Pierce had wrapped his shirt around her injury.

“It’s nothing. Just a flesh wound.” Roxanne shot a glance toward Pierce. “Pierce patched me up and it’s not bleeding so badly anymore.”

The baby, clearly picking up on the distress in Julia’s voice, leaned away from Tuck, reaching for her mother.

Julia turned automatically to play with Lily’s hands, rather than take the baby, keeping most of her attention on Roxanne. The baby giggled and buried her face in Tuck’s shirt.

A sharp pang tugged at Roxanne’s gut. She knew things hadn’t been easy for Tuck and Julia. A quickie Vegas-style marriage—followed by an even quicker divorce—had separated the couple only hours after they’d met. Tuck hadn’t even known their brief union had resulted in a daughter until a few weeks earlier. But now that their differences had been worked out, the little family looked so natural and beautiful together, full of so much love and happiness.

“It doesn’t make any sense,” Pierce’s oldest brother, Maddox, said as he paced the floor. “Who would want to shoot at you?”

“It doesn’t make sense to you?” Roxanne snorted softly. “I was the one being shot at and it makes no more sense to me. Maybe he wasn’t shooting at me at all. He could have been aiming for the horse for a little target practice.” Her lips tightened. “There are idiots out there that get a kick out of killing defenseless animals.”

Pierce’s jaw clenched. “They’re idiots, all right, but they’re not stupid enough to shoot at the horses in front of a potentially hostile witness. And it’s not like he didn’t realize you were there. If you were in between the shooter and Sweet Jessie, he had to be shooting at you.”

Maddox inhaled and let his breath out slowly. “I’m glad it was only a flesh wound.” His shoulders pushed back and he looked around the room at his younger brothers. “We’d better get out there and see if we can find out who did this.” He turned to Dante and Tuck. “You two take the truck. I’ll take the four-wheeler.”

“I’m going by horse.” Pierce straightened, anger building with each breath he took. Someone had shot at Roxanne, tried to run over her and almost killed her. The bastard needed to be found. If he’d been faster, smarter…maybe he could have taken the guy into custody back in the canyon. It was his fault Roxanne was still in danger. Pierce should have gone after him while he’d had the chance.

Dante grabbed his cowboy hat from the coat tree in the hallway. “We have to find whoever did this. The prairie and canyons are dangerous enough without people shooting at one of us.”

“Who would want to hurt Roxanne?” Tuck handed the baby to Julia, who nestled Lily into the crook of her arm, a frown marring her brow.

“I don’t know, but we sure as hell are going to find out.” Pierce clamped his hat on his head, grabbed a box of bullets from the gun cabinet and headed for his father’s office. For what it was worth, he placed a call to the sheriff’s department. When the dispatcher came on, Pierce explained the situation and the approximate location.

The dispatcher promised the sheriff’s department would be out to investigate as soon as they had a deputy available. Pierce hung up, shrugging. He’d done the right thing by reporting the incident, but he didn’t have a whole lot of faith or respect for the local sheriff. The man still stood by the theory that Pierce’s father had fallen from his horse and died of head injuries. Pierce and his brothers disagreed. No way their father had fallen from his horse. The man could ride before he learned to walk. But the sheriff refused to put in the effort to find the truth. And Pierce refused to let Roxanne’s safety depend on that kind of man. Whether she liked it or not, he still considered her his responsibility. He wouldn’t let her down, not this time. Not again.

Pierce grabbed a couple of walkie-talkies from a shelf and emerged from his father’s office.

At the same time Amelia Thunder Horse reentered the living room, carrying a large tray filled with thermoses of coffee, and plastic bags filled with sandwiches and trail mix. She eyed the box of bullets but didn’t say anything about them. “No one’s leaving without food. You never know what’s going to happen out there on the plains or in the canyons. They didn’t name it the badlands for nothing.”

Pierce tossed a walkie-talkie to Maddox, grabbed a plastic bag of trail mix and one with a sandwich from the tray, snagged a thermos, kissed his mother’s cheek and headed for the door. “Thanks, Mother.”

She called out after him, “Wakan Tanka kici un.” May the Great Spirit bless you.

He smiled, a tug of nostalgia tightening his chest. His mother didn’t often use the Lakota language his father had taught her and all of his sons. Only when a greater need arose.

In the barn, Pierce removed the saddle from Bear, rubbed him down and settled him in a stall with feed. He led his own stallion, Cetan, out of his stall, threw a saddle over his back and cinched it. Pierce was guiding the horse out into the barnyard when a voice called out.

“I’m going with you.”

Pierce turned toward the sound, his pulse quickening, his jaw growing rigid.

Roxanne stood with her feet planted wide, hands fisted on her jean-clad hips—more beautiful than he remembered and just as stubbornly determined.

“We don’t need your help.” Pierce turned his back on the woman and led the horse away from the barn door. “Besides, isn’t the doctor on his way to check out your noggin?”

Roxanne strode for the barn. “I’ve been falling off horses since I was five years old—Doc’s not going to tell me anything about concussions that I don’t already know. But don’t forget, I wasn’t the only one injured. While you boys play detective, someone needs to check on Sweet Jessie, and her foal. I’m the local contact for the Bureau of Land Management when it comes to those horses. It’s my—”

“Responsibility.” Pierce turned back. “And it’s my responsibility to catch that madman with a gun before he gets a chance to come after you again. You’re staying.”

“I’m not your responsibility, and you don’t get to decide where I go. Maddox said I could ride Sassy.” She marched into the barn and grabbed a bridle from a nail on the wall.

“Did the fact escape you that you were the target of a shooter?”

“No, it did not.” She squared her shoulders, standing taller. “I wasn’t prepared before. I’m aware now and will take precautions.”

“And how will you do that?” His gaze panned her lithe form. “You aren’t carrying any kind of protection, are you? Where’s your rifle?”

“I don’t carry one. Besides, you have one.” She frowned. “Look, Pierce, I’m being sensible. I could have snuck off on my own once you were gone, but instead I’m going with you. I’m willing to be careful, I’m willing to take precautions, but I’m not willing to sit around and do nothing when there’s so much that needs to be done. Accept that I’m going and stop wasting precious time by arguing. It’ll be dark soon.”

She held his gaze a moment longer, then disappeared into a stall and emerged leading Sassy, the sorrel mare.

Pierce didn’t wait around to bicker with the confounded woman. He didn’t want to see Roxanne; he wanted the hell away from her, especially when fire blazed in her beautiful eyes and she stood so defiantly.

Planting his foot in the stirrup, he swung up into his saddle and yanked the stallion around to the north. Named after the Lakota word for hawk, Cetan could outrun even the swiftest of the wild horses in the canyon. He could easily outdistance any of the other horses in the barn, if Pierce chose to let him have his head.

But it would be foolish to expend the horse’s energy when they had a long ride ahead of them. Instead of galloping off into the distance, Pierce nudged the stallion into a canter. That way, Roxanne wouldn’t have any trouble catching up with him. He still didn’t like the idea of her riding out while the gunman was still at large, but the idea of her sticking close and letting him protect her was a hell of a lot better than having her ride out alone.

In the short time they’d been in the ranch house, dark clouds had rolled in. The weather in North Dakota could change at the drop of a hat. Thunder rumbled long and low in the west. Wakan Tanka grew angry. Perhaps the Great Spirit reached out to punish those who brought violence to the people and the creatures of the plains.

The approaching storm reflected Pierce’s mood. He growled under his breath. Sure, he’d expected to see Roxanne as part of the wedding party. She and Tuck were the same age and had been friends throughout high school. They had been like brother and sister.

Despite the differences between Pierce and Roxanne, Pierce couldn’t deny Tuck’s request to have Roxanne as one of Julia’s bridesmaids.

He’d told himself that he’d be fine seeing her again, but he’d been wrong. Time hadn’t healed old wounds, as his mother always liked to say. Nothing could cure death. Roxanne had made it clear that when her brother had died, she wanted nothing more to do with Pierce. No wedding, no future…nothing. Even though he knew it was no more than he deserved, it still made his gut twist just to think about it.

All the old feelings he’d had for her hadn’t waned one bit. No amount of dating or bedding other women would wipe Roxanne from his mind. He’d barely even tried, the wounds to his heart still too fresh. He told himself he preferred to be alone. No, he deserved to be alone.

Truth was, no woman measured up to Roxanne and he’d failed her so completely, the damage could never be healed.

At the approaching thunder of hooves, Cetan pranced to the side.

Pierce pulled back on the reins, but the stallion would have none of it. His competitive spirit wouldn’t let another horse catch up or move ahead of him. He arched his back, kicked his hind legs into the air and would have thrown a less experienced rider.

Accustomed to surprising mood swings in the horses he’d tamed from the wild herds of the canyons, Pierce rode out the rough bucking and brought Cetan to a halt.

Roxanne approached with a hint of a smirk curling the corners of her lips.

Pierce’s back teeth ground together. When she pulled in beside him, he eased control on Cetan’s reins and let the stallion take the lead in a steady trot. Pierce didn’t speak or acknowledge her presence. He was afraid of what he might say. Yet, he kept an eye on Roxanne, just in case. She was hurt, and she was in danger. Even though she hated him, he knew he couldn’t live with himself unless he kept her safe.

ROXANNE’S GAZE BORED into Pierce’s back. She should have ridden with Dante and Tuck in the truck. But she knew where she was most comfortable. When trouble struck the badlands of North Dakota, Roxanne preferred to be in the saddle. Besides, she was more likely to find Sweet Jessie and her foal off the beaten path, and they were her priority right now.

The fact that she had been injured, along with Sweet Jessie, wasn’t something Roxanne let herself think about. She didn’t know why anyone would choose to target her—or if he would try to attack her again—but sitting around and thinking about it would drive her crazy. With all the problems she’d been having with the ranch and her finances, the thought of another disaster in her life threatened to crack her self-control. The only way she knew to deal with the strain was to focus on something else—a problem she could fix.

Checking on the horses fit the bill, even if it meant riding with her ex-fiancé.

She’d avoided Pierce since her brother’s death. The only time she saw him was from a distance when they happened to be in Medora, the small town where she purchased supplies. She had noticed that Pierce hadn’t been home much since the explosion, and why should he? His work with the FBI kept him busy. Just like it had kept Mason busy when Pierce had lured him into that danger-filled world.

A booming clap of thunder shook the earth and air around her. The mare beneath her skittered sideways, tossing her head in the air with a frightened whinny.

Roxanne glanced at the incoming storm, doubt tugging at her gut. Maybe they should have waited until the following day to be out on the prairie. With no trees within sight, that left the two horses and riders as the tallest spires within miles—lightning rods for what looked like a nasty storm about to break over the landscape. Easy targets for a determined shooter, should he choose to return. But no, she wasn’t letting herself think about that now. She’d set a mission for herself, and she wasn’t going home until it was completed.

A flash of lightning snaked across the sky, followed closely by an answering rumble. Sassy pulled against the reins and swung back toward the barn and shelter from the oncoming storm.

Roxanne struggled to turn the horse in the direction Pierce and his stallion rode. They had to get to the watering hole and find Sweet Jessie and her foal before wolves or two-legged snakes claimed their lives. The rain would wash away the horse tracks…and the tracks of the dirt bike the Thunder Horse brothers would use to try to track down her shooter.

Ahead, Pierce sat tall in the saddle, his shoulders broad, his dark Lakota hair hanging down just below his collar, straight, thick and jet-black. The cowboy hat on his head shielded his eyes from what little light shone around the approaching cloud bank. Every time Pierce glanced behind him, Roxanne’s heart flipped, stuttered and burst into a frantic pattering.

Damn the man. He’d always had that effect on her. When would she ever get over him? No man had ever captured her heart or imagination like Pierce Thunder Horse.

The truck with two of the other Thunder Horse brothers passed them, followed soon by the four-wheeler. They honked and swung wide of Pierce and Roxanne, kicking up a cloud of dust from the dry prairie floor.

Roxanne settled into a bone-jarring canter, slow enough to conserve the horse’s energy. If they had to go down into the canyon to find Sweet Jessie and her foal, the rain would make the trail even more dangerous than it already was.

Sassy would need all her strength for a coordinated and sure-footed descent.

As they neared the watering hole, Roxanne let out a sigh, half-relieved when she didn’t find the wild mare’s body in the dirt. The wound mustn’t have been too bad, if she was able to get up and leave the area. Still, Roxanne wanted to gauge for herself.

Pierce paused briefly at the watering hole to check for hoofprints and tire tracks, and to compare notes with his brothers.

Roxanne urged her mare slowly toward the canyon’s rim, her gaze darting right and left as well as scanning the ground. Having been shot at once made her paranoid. Every noise caused her to jump. She tried to force herself to focus. The brothers were taking care of the shooter—Roxanne’s job was to take care of the wild horses. She couldn’t let herself get distracted from that. If she did, she’d be reminded how vulnerable and frightened she felt at the thought of a gunman on her trail.

Sweet Jessie had been shot by the pond. The herd had to have been close by at the time of the shooting. Noise from the gunshot would have sent them into the canyon to hide.

In the dirt leading away from the watering hole, Roxanne discovered a trail of dark brown dots. Dried blood and hoofprints. At first they headed for the canyon, but the prints veered south before reaching the canyon’s edge. Unfortunately, where Sweet Jessie’s prints headed south, another, smaller set of hoofprints led directly to the canyon.

“The foal and mare are separated.” Roxanne glanced across at Pierce as he came abreast. “The little one won’t stand a chance if she doesn’t find her mother soon.”

At the edge of the gorge, Roxanne paused, searching for the trailhead where the horses would have dropped down into the canyon below.

“Are you trying to get shot again?” Pierce angled his horse in front of hers. “You’re exposed here on the edge of the canyon. If someone wanted to shoot you once, wouldn’t you think they might be interested in shooting at you again?”

“And like I said to you before, if someone wanted to shoot me, there are better places for them to try than here where there’s next to no cover to get a good position—especially now that I’m surrounded by angry-looking men with guns.” She straightened her shoulders, her gaze darting toward the canyon below. “I refuse to run scared. There’s a foal down there who will die without her mother. Lead, follow or get out of my way.”

Pierce’s brows dipped. “You’re a stubborn woman. Anywhere along the trail is easy pickings if someone is down there in the canyon aiming up.”

“Do you see any tire tracks leading down into the canyon?”

Pierce leaned over in the saddle, scanning the trailhead. “No. But this might not be the trail he used to get down there.”

“You do see horse tracks, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

Roxanne raised her gaze to the sky again. “If we don’t hurry, it won’t matter. The rain will keep us from finding the foal. She could die and no one will care but me.”

He shifted in his saddle, glancing out across the gorge, squinting. Finally he faced her. “Damn it, Roxanne, I care.”

She waved her hand toward the trail, choosing to ignore his statement. “Then let’s go.”

“Wait here.” Pierce took off at a trot toward his brothers. Over his shoulder he called out. “And I mean wait.”

Roxanne’s gaze followed him.

Pierce conferred with his brothers and returned, reining in beside her and her mare. “They want to stay up top and continue searching for clues as to who the shooter might be before the rain washes away any evidence, but Maddox will cover us while we go down.”

“Good.” She didn’t wait for him. Pressing her heels into Sassy’s flanks, she clucked her tongue and spoke softly to the horse as she picked her way down the steep and narrow trail.

Roxanne focused on the path ahead, refusing to look to her side where the ground dropped away in a slope too steep for man or beast. If a shooter popped off a round, he wouldn’t even have to hit her. The noise alone could cause her horse to spook and toss her or, worse, tumble down the steep slope with her. And even without the shooter, if her mount took one faulty step, both horse and rider would plummet to the bottom of the canyon with nothing to slow their fall.

Her breath wedging in her throat, Roxanne clung to the saddle horn, her fingers light on the reins, giving the horse her head. Roxanne’s feet dug into the stirrups as she leaned back in the saddle to keep from pitching forward. Sassy picked her way to the bottom at her own pace.

About halfway down, the sky opened, rain gushing from it like a fire hose spraying down full blast.

Blinded by the torrent, Roxanne could do nothing but hold on and pray Sassy remained sure-footed as the trail turned slippery and more treacherous by the minute.

Not until the path leveled out and the canyon floor rose up to meet them did Roxanne release the breath she’d been holding and push the hair out of her face to glance behind her.

Cetan descended, easing his way down the last few feet of the narrow trail. Rain dripped from the edges of Pierce’s cowboy hat, his face set in stone beneath the brim.

“We’ll be lucky to find the foal in this,” Roxanne called out as Pierce reined in beside her.

“We’re here, we might as well try.” His heels pressed into his horse’s sides and he headed north along the base of the cliffs rising up beside him.

Her head down, Roxanne wished she’d taken time to grab a cowboy hat at the Thunder Horse Ranch. Hers had been lost earlier in her wild ride to get away from the shooter. She could barely see through the rain running down her face. Sassy fell in step behind Cetan, seemingly content to let the larger horse lead as they pushed forward.

Roxanne followed the man she’d sworn to hate for the rest of her life. Weak and tired from the long ride and the injuries she’d sustained from being shot and thrown, she did something she swore she’d never do again. She let the tears she’d been holding back for two months, mingle with the rain coursing down her cheeks.

If Pierce looked behind him, all he’d see was a pathetically wet woman with water streaming down her face on the back of a bedraggled horse. He would never know she cried.

After riding in the torrential downpour for several hundred yards, Pierce’s horse tossed his head into the air and took off.

Startled by the sudden movement, Sassy danced sideways.

Blinded by the rain in her eyes, Roxanne scrubbed a hand across her face and peered ahead.

Several yards in front of Pierce a blurry shadow darted toward the shallow river cutting through the center of the narrow canyon. The foal? She could only hope so. Because if it was the shooter, she didn’t know what she could do to protect herself.

Roxanne dug her heels into Sassy’s flanks. The horse leaped forward as the sequence of events unfolded before her.

With one hand, Peirce held the reins, while his other hand reached for the rope hanging from the side of his saddle. His arm rose high above his head, the rope swinging in a wide loop. When Pierce launched the lasso, the ring dropped over the head of the small horse that appeared too young to be weaned.

Pierce’s horse dug his hooves into the slippery soil, sliding forward with the force of the foal’s tug on the rope.

As soon as the two beasts came to an unsteady halt, Pierce dropped from his saddle and raced toward the filly.

Roxanne reached them at the same time, slipping from her horse’s back to the ground. She stumbled, regained her footing and ran forward, flinging her arms around the filly’s neck to add her weight to Pierce’s hold until the frightened animal calmed.

Pierce spoke to her in a deep, monotone voice, whispering the words of his forefathers, the Lakota language rolling smoothly off his tongue.

Not only did it soothe the frightened animal, it helped steady Roxanne’s racing heart.

The foal finally settled, eyes still wide, nostrils flaring, body quivering, her ribs expanding with each frantic breath she took. At least she didn’t try to break free of Pierce and Roxanne. A fierce surge of triumph filled Roxanne. Despite everything that was wrong—and increasingly dangerous—in her life, at least they’d managed to do this. They’d found and caught the foal, which felt like the first thing that had gone right in her life in way too long.

With the lighting flashing above the canyons and the thunder booming against the rocky cliffs, Roxanne stared across the filly’s neck at the man she’d once loved. Their gazes met and held.

Sometime during the struggle with the young horse, Pierce had lost his cowboy hat. Black hair lay plastered to his head, his high cheekbones standing out, glistening in the rain. His eyes glowed so darkly Roxanne couldn’t fathom what thoughts hid behind their inky depths.

All she knew was that her traitorous heart was not her own and hadn’t been since the day she’d fallen in love with Pierce Thunder Horse.

Chapter Three

Pierce’s heartbeat thundered along with the storm-ravaged sky as he gazed into Roxanne’s eyes. It took all his willpower and a little help from Wakan Tanka, the Great Spirit, to break eye contact and focus on the task ahead. “We need to get the filly back to the ranch.”

Roxanne glanced back in the direction from which they’d come. “The trail will be too slippery to get out of the canyon.”

Pierce knew that, but he couldn’t bring himself to stay with Roxanne any longer than necessary. “We have to try.”

She shook her head. “No. We can’t risk it. Not when the filly is so scared to begin with. At least not until the rain stops. It wouldn’t be safe for us or our horses, either.”

He knew she was right. “Get the halter hanging on the side of my saddle.”

“Are you sure you have her?”

The filly bucked beneath his hold. Pierce refused to let go, his hands clamped around her neck. “Yes,” he said between gritted teeth. “Get it.”

Roxanne raced for the saddle, snatched the halter and a lead rope and returned at a slower, more steady pace so as to not spook the foal. She slipped the straps over the pony’s nose and buckled the clasp behind her ear. Once she had the lead snapped onto the ring at the side, she nodded. “I’ve got her.”

Slowly, Pierce let go of his hold around the filly’s neck.

Immediately, the young horse reared.

Roxanne dug her heels into the ground, but the little horse dragged her through the mud anyway.

Pierce grabbed Roxanne around the middle and held on. With his other hand he reached for the lead rope.

Together, they wrestled the filly to a standstill, Pierce’s hand closing around Roxanne’s on the rope.

Not until he had the foal under control did Pierce note how close he was to Roxanne. Her drenched body pressed against his, the cold rain doing nothing to cool the heat pooling in his loins.

His hand curled around her hip, dragging her closer. He sucked in a deep breath, inhaling the scent of honeysuckle, the knot in his gut tightening. “Why did you have to come back into my life?”

Her body stiffened, the hand beneath his convulsing around the rope. “Trust me, I had no intention of crossing paths with you.” Despite her harsh words, her voice shook.

“Then get away, and stay away from me.” He pushed her away from his body, both hands wrapping around the lead rope.

“I can’t, until this storm clears.” With her back to him, she walked several steps away, then swung around to face him. Hands perched on her hips, her blue eyes flashed through the rain running down her face. “Pending clear skies and dry trails, we’re stuck with each other. Not my choice, but I’ll deal with it. For now, we need to find shelter until this storm blows over.”

“Got anything in mind?” The foal bucked and Pierce gritted his teeth, holding on.

“There are some caves somewhere around here. My brother…” Her voice caught and she looked away. “We used to camp close by when we fished in the river.” She grabbed her horse’s reins and Cetan’s and left Pierce standing there holding on to the filly.

He could choose to follow or continue arguing with the rocks in the rain. For a moment he debated staying put, convinced the cold rain seemed a whole lot cozier than holing up in a cave with an angry ex-fiancée. One look at his charge and he knew the filly deserved better. Besides, until the shooter was caught, Pierce knew he wasn’t going to be comfortable having his eyes off Roxanne for long, no matter how hard it was to look at her and know that she’d never be his again. Pierce fell in step behind Roxanne and the two horses, dragging the stubborn little beast with him.

Within fifteen minutes of trudging through rain and mud, Roxanne located the first of a series of caves she’d spent many summers camping in with her brother and father. The memories they evoked made a cold lump rise in her throat, reminding her why she could never forgive Pierce Thunder Horse.

A jagged crevice, wide enough for two horses to stand abreast, allowed them to enter without ducking, bending or otherwise forcing the animals through. The opening also allowed a moderate amount of light inside. The cave’s interior, carved out of solid rock through years of erosion, was the size of a barn.

Getting the filly inside took a little more time and patience, but with Roxanne’s help, Pierce maneuvered the frightened animal through the passageway, tying her to a boulder large enough to anchor her.

“I’ll be right back. I need to radio my brothers and let them know we’re okay and will stay here until the rain lets up.” He went back through the crevice to stand at the opening of the cave, far enough away from the horses the static wouldn’t bother them. The distance from Roxanne helped him to think as he made contact with his brothers. Too bad he couldn’t come up with any solutions to keep Roxanne safe and also far, far away from him.

TIRED AND COLD TO THE bone, Roxanne dragged the saddle from Sassy and let it fall to the floor. What had happened to her strength? She felt as weak as a kitten. Determined to pull her own weight, she lugged the saddle up onto a large rock to dry. She used the saddle blanket to rub down the horse, then stretched the damp blanket over another rock.

Pierce reentered the cave.

“They didn’t try to come down the trail after us, did they?” Roxanne asked.

“No. But they were about to when I called. They’d been searching the area and were fortunate enough to find some bullet casings before the rain hit. I told them where we were, and sent them back to the ranch. They’re not going to find anything else out there in this weather. They’ll contact the sheriff’s department and let them know about the casings.”

Once both horses were cared for, Roxanne trudged her way through the darkness, searching for anything they could use for firewood. When she and her brother had last been inside the cave years ago, they’d left enough fuel to burn for the next visit, knowing firewood was scarce on the plains.

In the shadows farther away from the entrance, she located the ring of stones they’d arranged for the fire. That was expected. Less expected was what she found at the center of the circle—charred firewood, discarded cans and plastic wrappers that had definitely not come from her or Mason.

“Someone has used this cave. By the looks of this trash, fairly recently.” Roxanne lifted a plastic wrapper and something shone brightly beneath, catching the little bit of light from the cave’s access. “Interesting.” She pushed the object out of the dirt. “It’s a bullet.” From the shooter? Well, who else could it be? This cave was on Carmichael property, and there certainly wasn’t anyone who had permission to be using it.

Pierce caught her hand as she reached for the shiny metal. “Don’t. We might be able to lift prints. And let me have that plastic wrapper.” He tore the tail of his shirt off and picked up the unexploded round and the wrapper using the piece of fabric, tucking the wad into his jeans pocket.

Roxanne rearranged the ring of stones, searching for any other items of interest. “You think the man who camped here is the same man who shot at me?”

His lips thinned into a straight line. “We won’t know until the state crime lab can perform the forensics on the casing and compare it to the ones my brothers found.”

“Hopefully, the sheriff made it out to the ranch and has started the investigation.”

Pierce’s jaw clenched at the mention of the sheriff.

Cold slithered across Roxanne’s skin, reminding her of what she’d been searching for in the first place. She inched her way to the darkest corner, hoping any critters who might have called this cave home had scurried out, preferring the warmth of the summer prairie to the cool darkness. She found the stash of tinder and dry wood they’d left well before her brother’s death, still hidden behind a boulder.

As she emerged into the meager light carrying an armful of firewood, Pierce had pulled out the bag of sandwiches and trail mix his mother had insisted on him bringing. When he saw what Roxanne held, he dropped the bag next to the stone ring and relieved her of her burden. “You shouldn’t be carrying that. You might get that gash bleeding again.”

She thought about arguing but decided it wasn’t worth it. Besides, her arm really did hurt. If he wanted to take care of the fire himself, that was fine with her.

Within minutes a cheerful fire burned brightly, lighting even the darkest corners of the cavern, chasing away the shadows and spiders.

Roxanne laid her saddle blanket on the ground beside the flames to dry, and then collapsed in the dirt close to the fire, grateful for the warmth as the chill of damp clothing set in. Her teeth clattered together, the ache in the back of her head intensifying as the painkiller she’d taken earlier wore off. She rubbed the knot at the base of her skull, kneading the soreness, hoping to ease the ache in the absence of medication.

“Here, let me,” said a brusque voice from behind her, and her fingers were brushed aside.

Warm, callused hands curled around her neck. Thumbs avoided the lump, smoothing the hair and skin in gentle circles.

Tense muscles relaxed, the soreness fading as Roxanne pushed aside the fact that Pierce was the source of her relief. For a moment, she let the heat of his fingers chase away the chill inside, leaning back into his broad chest.

The thumbs stilled, and his hands froze against her skin.

A shiver, originating at the base of her spine, rocketed all the way up her back, shaking her violently. Once the trembling began, it didn’t abate.

His hands jerked away from her and he stood, backing up several steps. “You have to get out of those wet clothes.”

“And w-what am I s-supposed to wear in the m-mean time?” she quipped, the chattering of her teeth taking the barb out of her response.

“Wearing nothing is better than keeping the dampness against your skin. The moisture conducts heat away from your body.”

“I know that.” Still, she couldn’t quite stomach the thought of undressing in front of him. With everything that had happened with the shooter and her injury, she felt too vulnerable. Common sense told her that she needed to get the clothes away from her skin, but every instinct protested. She couldn’t let herself be weak where Pierce Thunder Horse was concerned, lest it create a leak in the dam of emotions she’d held in check since he’d returned.

Stubbornly, she wrapped her arms around her knees, pulling them up against her body for more warmth. Her body’s trembles turned into bone-shaking shivers, so violent she thought she’d rattle apart.

“Good grief, woman. It’s not as though I haven’t seen you naked before.” He grabbed her hand and urged her to her feet, standing her in front of him. His hands clamped down on her shoulders and he rubbed them through the damp cotton of the T-shirt she wore.

“You’re freezing. I suspect shock is setting in from your fall and injury. If we don’t get you warmed up, you could have some serious problems, and we both know that there’s no way I could get you some help until the weather clears.”

“Well, when you put it that way.” She pressed her hands into his chest, pushing against him. “I can undress myself.”

He let go of her, his lips twisting. “Go for it.”

Her fingers fumbled with the hem of her shirt. They shook so hard, she couldn’t manage to pull it up over her torso. “I don’t know…what’s…wrong…” Tears welled in her eyes, and before she could stop them, ran down her cheeks. Now she couldn’t even see what she was doing.

“Give it up.” Pierce’s whispered words stirred the wisps of hair beside Roxanne’s ear, his breath warming her cold skin.

“Never,” she said, though her hands fell to her sides. Giving it up would have to mean trusting him, and she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t! But when he reached out to her again, she found that she couldn’t quite bring herself to stop him, either. She’d been cold for so very long…and Pierce was always so warm.

Deft fingers made quick work of tugging her shirt up and over her head, easing it past the wound on her shoulder and the back of her scalp.

Roxanne’s breath lodged in her throat and her gaze traveled upward to connect with the darkness of the Lakotan’s eyes. Months of sorrow, of love lost and families betrayed couldn’t begin to melt away in one look.

She wanted to say no, wanted to shake her head, push him away, stay strong all on her own, the way she had for months. But God help her, she also wanted to say yes, to relax and let someone else take control, maybe even take care of her for a little while.

In the end, she didn’t say anything at all. Neither did he. Instead, his lips lowered, so slowly she had plenty of time to resist, to turn away and run.

But she didn’t.

EVERY THOUGHT, NERVE, beat of Pierce’s heart centered on Roxanne. Her fiery red hair lay wet and curling against her face, her mouth opened, her tongue flicking out to slide across her lips.

He bent to capture her full bottom lip between his teeth, sucking it into his mouth.

The lace of Roxanne’s bra rubbed against his shirt. The urge to rip aside the fabric swelled inside him. He had to touch the full, rounded softness of her breasts, to smooth his hands over the swells, rediscovering the curves and warmth of Roxanne’s naked skin.

He buried his face in the curve of her neck, nipping and sucking at the pulse beating wildly there.

When Pierce realized she was just as affected by him as he was her, he continued his assault, tossing her shirt to the floor. He unclasped her bra, easing the straps over her shoulders and down her arms, his gaze following its progress as her breasts sprang free. He cupped one in his palm and touched the rigid nipple with the tip of his tongue, lost in the taste of her.

Her chest rose on a gasp, her head falling back. Roxanne’s hand reached out to circle Pierce’s neck, bringing him closer so that he could suck the nipple into his mouth, pulling hard.

Her other hand groped for the top button of his jeans, fumbling with the hard metal rivet. His head rose and he stared down into her smoky blue gaze, seeing the woman he’d fallen in love with, the woman who was his equal, his soul mate, the only one for him. He pulled her hard against his chest and held her, giving in to the way it felt to have her back in his arms. He wanted her so badly his entire body shook with his need.

He had difficulty forcing his thoughts beyond the moment. If he followed his base instincts, he’d throw caution to the wind and take her there, in the darkness of the cave, their naked bodies writhing in the firelight.

But if he did that, she’d never forgive him. When they both came to their senses, Roxanne would remember all the reasons she had to despise him, all the reasons they would never be a couple again, never have a future together.

Pierce dragged in a deep breath and let it out, loosening his hold on her.

This was Roxanne. The woman he still loved with all his heart. The sister of one of the men whose death was his fault.

Pierce couldn’t change the past or undo what had happened to Roxanne’s brother. He couldn’t stop her hating him and hadn’t been able to keep her from leaving; nor had he tried. Today was the first time they’d managed to even have a conversation since ending their engagement, and it had been more than enough to show him how angry she still was. Right now, she was cold, and scared, and hurting and she was willing to let his touch make the world go away for a while, but it wouldn’t last. Making love to her wouldn’t change anything. She still hated him and no matter how perfect she’d been for him, Special Agent Pierce Thunder Horse was the wrong man for her.

He tugged her bra straps up over her shoulders and eased them both down to sit near the campfire, holding her close to share his body warmth.

“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. Because of her possible concussion, he had an excuse to wake her from her dreams every two hours.

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.

Whatever Roxanne had stumbled on that had caused the shooter to attack, it was much bigger than some idiot taking potshots at wild horses.

If he wasn’t mistaken, the piece of plastic and the claylike substance clinging to it wasn’t a candy wrapper for gum, but the packaging used around plastic explosives.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

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