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he’d been waiting for.
    With blood dotting his gloves, he lifted his phone and checked the text.
     
     
Located the target. Let me know how to proceed.
     
     
    He brushed one bloody finger over the woman’s nipple, then lifted himself off of her to type in his orders.
    McGregor had robbed him of months’ worth of pleasure while he was in prison. Of at least a half dozen more women.
    The memory of watching McGregor’s whore plead for her life shot through him, and he smiled. Killing her had only whetted his appetite for revenge.
    He fully intended to take care of McGregor and his kid himself.
    No one would rob him of that pleasure.

Chapter Four
    The wind shifted, lending a chill to the air, and Miles jerked his head toward the hill beyond the stables, a sudden prickling of his senses nagging at him.
    He’d had the same feeling before when someone had been tailing him, or when he was about to walk into a trap.
    He automatically felt for the gun he kept inside his jacket as he scanned the horizon. Acres of lush ranch land rippled and flowed in front of him, the sounds of horses, cattle and an occasional truck echoing in the distance. But he didn’t see anything suspicious.
    Still, that didn’t mean that the danger wasn’t out there. That Dugan or his accomplice hadn’t found him.
    Dammit, he wanted to be working the case. Tracking down Dugan and the bastard who’d helped set Dugan free.
    Tense with frustration, he visually swept the area again, but everything appeared normal. He had to trust Brody on this one, trust that his security team would be on the lookout for anything suspicious.
    He had failed Timmy before. He couldn’t fail him now.
    Determination renewed, he took a deep breath and crossed the way to the stables to meet Jordan and his son. Memories of his own childhood haunted him as he let himself inside the barn.
    Jordan’s soft voice met his ears as he stepped inside and breathed the scent of fresh hay.
    “This fellow’s name is Dominique but we call him Dom, and this one is Freedom because he likes to run free when he gets the chance.”
    Three of the stalls he passed were empty, but he spotted Jordan moving along the last four, pausing at each one to introduce the animal and pet it. Timmy stood close to her, his body not quite as rigid as it was when he’d left him. He’d always wanted a horse, and Miles had promised him that he’d buy him one, but he’d never followed through.
    As soon as the case ended, he would make that promise come true.
    Then he’d sell that house Marie had bought. Timmy would never go back there and have to face the place where the bloodbath had occurred.
    Maybe he’d even buy himself a nice ranch, something small that he could manage, a place where he could raise Timmy, where his little boy would have acres to play and roam and explore.
    A tall chestnut whinnied, dipping her head out for attention, and Jordan laughed softly. “And this girl, I call her Molasses because she’s such a sweet filly.”
    Timmy actually reached up to pet the horse, and Molasses responded by gently nuzzling her nose against his hand. The sight of Timmy doing something so normal made Miles’s chest swell with hope and longing that one day he would have his little boy back, happy and laughing and playing like a child should.
    Sunlight streamed through the barn, glinting off Jordan’s golden-blond hair, and for a moment he simply watched her, the feminine way she moved, the sultry way she inclined her head and laughed as the horse rubbed his nose against her own.
    The protective way she gently laid a hand on his son’s shoulder as if to assure him that she cared, that he wasn’t alone.
    His earlier conversation with her rolled through his head, and he realized he’d been so defensive that he hadn’t noticed much about her. He’d been too busy listening to the guilt and recriminations screaming at him, reminding him that if he’d reached Marie’s house earlier that morning, Timmy’s