Ultimate Cowboy (11 page)

His name was Kyle Wylie. He lived with his father and brothers.

He gave you that name when he took you
.

Brody’s words taunted him. Father did give his sons new names, names so the people who’d thrown them away wouldn’t track them down and hurt them or try to take them away from his family.

But he was not this man’s brother.

Why was he trying to make him believe that he was? Why had he brought him here?

Images of the kids running up to Brody
and hugging him flashed back. The other campers at the campout had all been smiling and talking to him, too.

All day he’d waited for the prison walls to come down. He’d expected to see barbed wire fencing and guards posted around the ranch. To be punished when he’d arrived.

To go to a dark hole.

But that hadn’t happened.

Yet.

What if today was an act to lull him into trusting
them?

That TBI agent would be back, too. Back with her questions and probing and demands.

He paced to the window and peeled back the curtain, then stared across the land. No barbed wires or guards. Even the horses ran free and seemed to be treated well.

A fleeting memory tried to shove through the confusion in his head. When Brody had talked about that rodeo...he had seen images
of the barrel racers, of calf-roping contests, of a cowboy on a bull.

Those images had seemed real.

But he had never been to a rodeo before.

He closed his eyes, beating his head with his fists. He had to think straight. Think like his father had taught him. As a soldier would.

That TBI agent with the gold hair and tender smile was the enemy. So was Brody Bloodworth with his
phony DNA report.

He paced back across the room, then noticed a scrapbook on the table by the bed. Pulse jumping, he picked it up and opened it. A photo of a younger Brody and an older man and a little boy was on the first page. The little boy had sandy-brown hair and freckles and was staring up at Brody as if he was his hero.

That boy must be the Will Brody talked about. The one he
thought was him.

The man was confused. He belonged to Father.

Still, curiosity nagged at him, and he flipped the pages. Images of the two brothers together filled his vision. In one picture, Will was about three and was riding on the same horse with Brody. In another when he was a little older, it looked as if Brody was teaching the kid how to ride. Then there were pictures of Brody
winning barrel races, of him playing baseball on a high school team. Of Brody teaching Will how to ride a bike.

Then one of the horseshoe game.

His stomach cramped, and Kyle slammed the book shut, then threw it across the room. That had been a happy family.

But it wasn’t his and it never would be.

He had to go back to Father. Make sure the other boys weren’t being punished
because of him.

Footsteps pounded on the steps in the hall, and Will flipped the lights in the room off, kicked off his shoes and crawled into the bed.

He’d wait until Brody was asleep then he’d find a way to escape. He’d seen a Jeep parked beside a truck outside when they’d arrived.

He’d take the vehicle and hightail it back to his father.

Try to save little Hank from the
hole.

Footsteps sounded outside the room, and he kept himself locked inside. No way he wanted another confrontation with Brody. Finally sometime after midnight, when the house was dark, he sneaked down the stairs. He wished he had the damn keys to that Jeep, but he could hotwire it in no time.

He held his breath as he slipped out the front door. Like a good soldier escaping the enemy,
he didn’t make a sound as he closed it. The sky was dark, void of stars, the dark clouds shutting out the light.

It reminded him of the hole.

Father might put him back there when he returned, but he’d have to risk it. His boots snapped twigs as he crossed to the vehicle, the sound of a horse whinnying in the distance making him pause.

But he didn’t have time to dwell on it. He had
to escape.

He scanned the area around the Jeep and the pastures but didn’t see anyone, so he eased open the door to the Jeep, then slid in and bent over to try to hotwire the vehicle.

Suddenly footsteps crunched gravel, echoing in the silence, and he realized someone had seen him. His heart raced. He had to hurry.

A figure suddenly appeared behind him. He felt it, heard his breathing.
He gritted his teeth, fear immobilizing him.

It was too late to escape. Too late to help little Hank.

Chapter Eleven

Brody fought disappointment as he grabbed the car door. He’d hoped he’d gotten through to Will earlier, maybe triggered some memories, but apparently not.

The boy would rather go back to his abuser than stay with him.

That hurt.

“If you need to go somewhere, I’ll be glad to drive you,” he said.

Will spun around toward him, his eyes wild with fright.
Brody’s pulse clamored as he realized that Will was afraid of him.

Or maybe he’d thought he was someone else?

Will wrapped his hands around the steering wheel with a white-knuckled grip. “You’d take me?” he asked.

Brody grimaced at the scars on his knuckles. “That depends on where you were going. You want to take me to the man who kidnapped you and Hank?”

Will glared at him.
“No.”

“Then like it or not, you’re under my supervision. It’s here or back to jail.”

“Like this isn’t another prison?” Will asked in a sharp voice.

Brody sighed. “Does this ranch look like a prison? Are there bars on your windows? Guards at the door? Cells?”

Will gave him a challenging look. “You picked up troubled kids from orphanages and brought them here to work for you.
You may act nice at first, but I bet once you have them here for a while, all that changes.”

“Is that what happened to you?” Brody asked. “The man who kidnapped you treated you nice at first, then he turned on you and started beating you?”

The color drained from Will’s face, and he averted his eyes as if he realized he’d said too much.

“He beat you and locked you up and did God
knows what?” Brody said, the images haunting him. “So why would you go back to him?” He pounded his fist on the roof of the car. “That is where you were going, isn’t it?”

Will worked his mouth from side to side, then slid from the car and faced him. “You wouldn’t understand if I told you.”

“Try me.” Brody squared his shoulders. Will was almost as tall as him but leaner. Still he had
that hardness in his eyes that cut him to the bone.

Will made a sarcastic sound low in his throat. “Why? So you can use it against me?”

Brody silently cursed. “You’ve got it all wrong, Will. I’m on your side just like I am for these kids. I don’t bring them here to work. I don’t beat them or hurt them. Most of them have had some hard knocks in their lives. They’ve been abused, abandoned,
hurt, and some of them have even skirted trouble with the law.” He paused to let that sink in. “But I treat them with respect, teach them to respect themselves. No one on my staff, and that includes me, ever lays a hand to one of them in anger.”

Brody gave him an imploring look. “Please, let me help you. Talk to me.”

“You can’t help me,” Will said, his voice low, filled with despair.
“No one can.”

Brody reached out to touch him, but Will jerked away.

Headlights suddenly beamed a path down the drive, and Brody sighed in relief again. He’d been waiting up on Julie, wondering why she’d been gone so long.

But when she rolled to a stop and climbed out, the expression on her face sent tension coiling in his belly.

She shot a look at Will. “We have to talk.”

Brody gritted his teeth. Something was wrong. Was Will in more trouble than he thought?

* * *

J
ULIE
DREADED
the conversation she was about to have because of Brody. But she had to question Will again.

And push him harder to tell the truth.

The realization that Brody and Will had been having an altercation beside the Jeep hit her.

She narrowed her eyes at Will. “What’s
going on out here?”

Will clamped his mouth shut and stared across the pasture. Brody shrugged. “We were just talking.”

Will glanced at Brody as if he was surprised he hadn’t revealed more. Judging from the fact that they were standing beside the SUV, she’d bet Will had tried to escape.

She pointed toward the house. “Let’s go inside.”

Brody gestured to Will, and Julie led the
way into the house, then veered into Brody’s office.

“What’s wrong?” Brody asked as she set her briefcase on the conference table Brody used for meetings.

Julie cut her eyes toward Will, then removed a folder and opened it. “Sit down, Will, I have some questions for you.”

All emotion fled from his face, and he resumed his military mask as he slid into the wooden chair. Brody looked
nervous, but Julie forced herself to focus.

Julie wanted the man who’d taken Will, and she was going to find him, even if it hurt Will and Brody in the process.

She laid Hank Forte’s photograph on the table and pushed it toward Will. “Do you recognize this little boy?”

A muscle ticked in Will’s jaw. “I already told you I don’t.”

“The thing is, Will, I know you’re lying.”

He stiffened and shot her a cold look.

“See,” Julie continued. “I think that the same man who kidnapped you seven years ago kidnapped him.”

Will folded his arms.

“I also think that he kidnapped all of these kids.” She pushed photo after photo onto the table, forcing him to look at them. Then she tapped Jeremy’s photo. “We believe that this boy was his first victim.”

Then
she laid the drawing the sketch artist had created from the woman’s testimony in front of Will. “You say you don’t know these other boys. But this guy—how about him?”

Will’s eyes flickered but he didn’t speak.

“We have special software programs at the FBI that take photographs of missing children and show their age progression,” Julie said. “Periodically we post these on the National
Center for Missing and Exploited Children. These photographs stay in our databases because we never stop looking for the children.”

“Julie?” Brody asked.

She threw up a hand to silence him, then placed Jeremy’s childhood photo beside the sketch again. “You didn’t know this little boy because he was kidnapped before you. By the time you were abducted, he had been brainwashed.”

Will
blew air between his teeth. He was putting on an I-don’t-give-a-damn look, but she also read nervous signs. Beneath the table his leg had started to jiggle.

“Maybe you consider Jeremy your brother,” Julie said. “But he was a victim just like you. And just like little Hank Forte.” She touched his picture again, and Will’s mouth went flat.

“All this time we’ve assumed that the kidnapper
was in his twenties when he started, so now he would be in his forties.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “But now I’m wondering if he has a partner.”

Brody leaned over the pictures and studied the sketch of Jeremy. “What are you saying?”

“I just met with a woman who saw a suspicious young man at the local fair where Hank went missing. She said that he was watching Hank while
he played the dart-balloon game.”

Will’s face looked tormented, the first sign of real emotion.

“She described the young man to our sketch artist and this is what he looked like.” She waved it in front of Will. “Do you recognize him, Will?”

“My name is Kyle,” Will choked out.

“No, it’s not,” Julie said sternly. “It’s Will Bloodworth, and this man Brody is your brother. But
you consider Jeremy your brother, don’t you?” She stood. “Is that why you’re protecting him?” Her voice rose, grew harsh. “Because it looks like Jeremy is helping the man you call your father, and he helped lure Hank Forte away from his parents. It looks like Jeremy helped abduct Hank.”

Brody hissed, anguish in his expression, but Julie continued.

“Did you help him kidnap this little
boy, too, Will? Is that the reason you won’t talk? The man you call father taught you and Jeremy to do his dirty work for him.”

Will shot up. “I didn’t help him take that boy!”

Brody gripped the edge of the table. He started to speak, but Julie shook her head at him, warning him to let her handle the questioning.

“Jeremy did, though,” Julie said, her heart pounding. “Jeremy was
kidnapped when he was a little boy and brainwashed to the point that now he’s aiding in more abductions. And the fact that you’re covering for him—”

“I’m not covering for him,” Will bellowed.

Julie slammed her hands on the table. “Yes, you are, Will. By keeping quiet and protecting the man who took you, you are covering for him.” She swept her hand across the pictures. “You’re helping
him hurt these other kids. Tell me, what does he do to them? Beat them? Lock them up in a dark room? Starve them until they beg for food and water?” She heaved a breath. “What is he doing to little Hank right now? Hank is probably terrified, crying for his mother and father. What does the man you call Father do when he cries, Will?”

“Stop it!” Will hissed.

“No, I won’t stop,” Julie said.
“I won’t stop until I find this little boy and take him home to his mother and father. I won’t stop until I save him from becoming like Jeremy.”

Pain wrenched Will’s face. Brody reached out to touch him, but Will backed away.

“Please, Will, tell us where this man kept you,” Brody said. “Where is he holding Hank?”

But Will refused to answer. Instead, he adopted his sullen, closed
expression again. “I don’t know. Now if you’re finished, I’ll go back to my cell.”

“Your room is not a cell,” Brody snapped. “This is your home, Will.

“I want you to help us find that little boy and the other missing kids, so we can get these charges dropped against you and you can come here to live. So you can have the life you should have had.” Brody’s voice cracked. “The life that
that monster stole from you.” He took Will’s arm and forced him to look at him. “I love you. You’re my brother and I want you back here where you belong.”

Will’s gaze met his for a moment, emotions tingeing his eyes as if he wanted to believe what Brody was saying.

But he couldn’t. That was evident when he pulled away and backed toward the door.

“Think about what your brother said,”
Julie said quietly. “Help us find Hank and the other boys so they can go back to their families and have a normal life.”

He hesitated, his expression tormented, but a second later, he darted out the door. His footsteps pounded on the steps, then the sound of his door closing echoed through the house.

Julie knotted her hands in frustration, but Brody strode to the bar in the corner of
his office, poured himself a shot of whiskey, then tossed it down. When he turned back to her, the anguish in his eyes made her heart ache.

She couldn’t get involved with Brody again, couldn’t allow herself to get close.

But she also couldn’t stand still when he was in such agony.

So she went to him and did what she’d wanted to do since the first moment she’d seen him again.

She pulled him in her arms.

* * *

B
RODY
’
S
BODY
SHOOK
as Julie wrapped her arms around him. He didn’t know how to feel or think. Julie had been rough on Will, but he understood her reason.

God...were the things she’d said true? Had Jeremy, one of the victims of this monster, helped abduct Hank Forte?

“I’m sorry, Brody,” Julie murmured. “I know you’re upset, that that was difficult.”

He closed his eyes, inhaled a deep breath, savoring the comfort she offered. “You think Will really helped kidnap that little boy?”

Julie’s labored sigh echoed in the tense silence. “I don’t know, Brody.” She rubbed his arms with her hands. “I want to say that he didn’t.”

“But he did rob those stores,” Brody said gruffly.

“Yes,” Julie admitted. “But even if he did help lure
Hank away, he was probably forced to do so. So was Jeremy. We know Jeremy and Will were both abused, both physically and mentally. It’s going to take time to learn the details of what happened to them.”

“I know. Earlier I caught Will trying to steal that Jeep.”

“I figured that was what happened.”

“He accused me of being like his kidnapper, of bringing the kids here to the BBL to
force them to work.” His throat grew thick. “He said I was probably nice to them at first, then I turned on them.”

Julie’s chest squeezed, and she reached up and stroked his jaw. “Obviously that’s all he’s ever known. Right now, he doesn’t trust anyone. Give him time, he’ll realize that you’re nothing like that monster who kidnapped him.”

Brody prayed she was right.

Then Julie’s
finger brushed his jaw, and the tension in his body coiled tighter. Only this kind of tension came from the realization that she was in his arms, that her breasts were pressed against his chest, that her lips were only a hairbreadth away from his own.

He’d thought about her so many times over the years. Had wanted her so much. Had dreamt about this moment.

“Brody, I’m so sorry,” Julie
whispered. “But I will make this right.”

He gently brushed her hair from her forehead, the silky tendrils driving him crazy with lust.

“You’ve already done a lot,” he murmured. Then he lowered his head and closed his lips over hers. She moaned and parted her lips, and Brody dragged her closer, deepening the kiss.

God, he wanted her. He always had.

He always would.

* * *

J
ULIE
LOST
HERSELF
in the kiss. She’d craved Brody for so long that it was all she could do not to beg him to make love to her.

His hands threaded through her hair, tangling in the long tresses, reminding her of how he’d loved to play with it when they were younger.

The way it felt as he yanked her closer just before he lost control and thrust inside her.

She reached for his
shirt, hungry to touch his bare skin, to feel the rough coarse hair on his broad chest.

To kiss his neck and torso and trail her tongue down to his sex.

Her hands grew frenzied, pulling at his shirt, and he lowered his head and nipped at her neck, then lower to suckle her breasts through her shirt.

But a noise suddenly made them both jerk apart. Will inside his room.

He was
pacing, murmuring something she couldn’t understand.

Her breath rasped out in spurts as she tried to regain control. Brody ran his hands over her shoulders where he’d parted her blouse, his eyes smoky as he tilted her face toward him with his thumb.