Royal Rescue (23 page)

“We’re alone,” Brendan said as he carried Josie over the threshold of their private suite.

Since his arms were full with her and her overflowing gown, she swung the door closed behind them. It shut with a click, locking them in together. “Yes, we’re finally alone....”

And she didn’t want to waste a minute of their wedding night, so she wriggled in his arms, the way their independent son did because he thought himself too big to be carried. As she slid down Brendan’s body, he groaned as if in pain.

“Was I too heavy?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No, you’re perfect—absolutely perfect.” He lifted his fingers to her hair, which was piled in red ringlets atop her head. “You looked like a princess coming down the aisle of the ballroom.”

“Well, technically...” She was. It had made her an anomaly growing up, so she’d often downplayed her mother’s royal heritage. When she’d married Stanley Jessup, her mother had given up her title anyway. But here it was no big deal. Josie was only one of three princesses in the palace on St. Pierre Island. Four, actually, counting Charlotte Green-Timmer’s new daughter. Charlotte and Aaron had married shortly before their daughter’s premature birth.

There was a prince, too—Gabriella and Whit Howell’s baby boy. The princess had fallen in love with and married her father’s other royal bodyguard. There were so many babies...

So much love. But she’d felt the most coming from her husband as he’d waited for her father to lead her down the aisle to him. In his tuxedo, the same midnight-black as his hair, he looked every bit the prince. Or a king.

And standing at his side, in a miniature replica of his father’s tuxedo, had stood their son—both ring bearer, with the satin pillow in his hand, and best little man.

“It was the most perfect day,” she said. A day she had thought would never come—not four years ago when she’d had to die, all those times she nearly had died, and during the three months it had taken to plan the wedding.

“As hard as you and my mom worked on it,” he said, “it was guaranteed to be perfect.”

She blinked back tears at the fun she’d had planning the wedding with Roma. “Your mother is amazing.”

“She’s your mother, too, now,” he reminded her.

And the tears trickled out. “I feel that way.” That she truly had a mother now. “And my dad loves you like a son.” He couldn’t have been prouder than to have his daughter marry a hero like FBI Agent Brendan O’Hannigan.

“I’m glad,” Brendan said. “But right now I don’t want to talk about your dad or my mom.” He stepped closer to her, as if closing in on a suspect. “I don’t want to talk at all.”

Her tears quickly dried as she smiled in anticipation. “Oh, what would you rather do?”

“Get you the hell out of this dress,” he said as he stared down at the yards of white lace and satin.

With its sweetheart neckline, long sleeves and flowing train, it was a gown fit for a princess—or so his mother had convinced her. Josie was glad, though, because she had wanted something special for this special day. A gown that she could one day pass down to a daughter.

“Your mom told the seamstress to put in a zipper,” she told him. “She said her son was too impatient for buttons.”

He grinned and reached for the tab. The zipper gave a metallic sigh as he released it, and the weight of the fabric pulled down the gown. She stood before her husband in nothing but a white lace bra and panties.

“You’re the one wearing too many clothes now,” she complained and reached for his bow tie.

He shrugged off his jacket, and for once he wore no holsters beneath it. He carried no guns. When their honeymoon was over, he would, but as a supervising agent, he wouldn’t often have occasion to use them. He wasn’t going undercover anymore—except with her.

She pulled back the blankets on the bed as he quickly discarded the rest of his clothes. “In a hurry?” she teased.

“I don’t know how much time we’ll have before CJ shows up,” he admitted.

“His grandparents promised to keep him busy for the next couple of days,” she reminded him. “And he’s more fascinated with the royal babies right now than he is with us.”

Brendan grinned and reached for her.

“He wants one, you know,” Josie warned.

Brendan kissed her softly, tenderly, and admitted in a whisper, “So do I.”

She regretted all that her unfounded suspicions had cost him—seeing her pregnant, feeling their son kick, seeing him born, holding him as a sweet-smelling infant...

But she would make it up to him with more babies—and with all her love. She tugged her naked husband down onto the bed with her. “Then we better get busy...”

Building their family and their lives together.

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt of
Ultimate Cowboy
by Rita Herron!

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Chapter One

“This special news report just in—an amber alert has been issued for six-year-old Hank Forte. Hank was last seen at the county fair in Amarillo.”

Brody Bloodworth’s heart clenched as a photo of the boy appeared on screen. The little boy had blond hair, was wearing a black T-shirt, jeans and cowboy boots. He could be one of the kids on the BBL, the Bucking Bronc Lodge he had started for needy children.

But he reminded him more of his own little brother, Will, and launched him back seven years ago to the day Will had gone missing.

Not from a county fair but from the rodeo where
he
was supposed to be watching him.

Self-loathing and guilt suffused him, once again robbing his lungs of air. He understood what the family of that little boy was going through now. The panic. The fear.

The guilt.

If only they’d kept a better eye on him. If only they hadn’t turned their head for a minute.

What was happening to him? Had he just wandered off? Would they find him hiding out or playing somewhere at the fair? Maybe he had fallen asleep in a stall housing one of the animals...

Or had someone taken him? Maybe a desperate woman who’d lost a child and was out of her mind? A child predator who’d do God knows what?

A killer?

The reporter turned the microphone to Hank’s parents, a couple who were huddled together, teary-eyed and frightened. A second later, they began to plead for their son’s return, and the mother broke down into sobs.

Brody hit the remote, silencing the heart-wrenching scene, but it played over and over in his head. But it wasn’t the Forte family’s cries he heard; it was his own family’s.

His father who’d blamed him from the get-go.

Because it was his fault.

He glanced through the window at the sprawling acres and acres of land he’d bought, to the horse stables and pens and the boys that he’d taken in. All kids who had troubles, boys who needed homes and love and guidance.

But no matter how much he did for them, it wouldn’t make up for losing his little brother.

The clock in the hall struck 6:00 p.m., and he stood, pulled on his duster jacket and headed outside. One of his best men, Mason Blackpaw, and his fiancée, Cara Winchester, were getting married on the ranch in a few minutes. He’d promised he’d be there, and he was happy for his friend, but weddings always made him uncomfortable.

And he’d attended a hell of a lot of them lately. In fact, all of his original investors had tied the knot. First Johnny Long, then Brandon Woodstock, Carter Flagstone, then Miles McGregor, and now Mason.

Yanking at his tie to loosen the choking knot, he glanced at the field to the right where Mason had built a gazebo. Cara had rented tables and chairs and had decorated them with white linens, bows and fresh day lilies.

Half wishing he could skip the ceremony, he started to turn and go back inside, but Mason strode up to the steps of the gazebo then glanced his way with a smile.

Brody forced one in return. He couldn’t let his foul mood ruin his friend’s day.

Still, it was all he could do to put on a congenial face as he took a seat in the back row. Weddings made him think of Julie Whitehead, the only girl he’d ever loved.

The girl he’d snuck off to make out with at the rodeo, leaving his brother alone and unprotected.

In the panicked and horrible days after Will had disappeared, he’d lashed out at Julie. He’d blamed her.

But it was really himself he hated.

Dammit, that news report had stirred it all up again, all the haunting memories. He needed to check the database for missing and exploited children, make sure Will’s information was still there.

Over the years, he’d focused on making sure local law enforcement agencies as well as statewide ones didn’t give up looking. Even all these years later, he still had hope he’d find his brother.

Although that hope was harder to hold on to every day.

Worse, worry over what his brother had suffered ate at him constantly.

Still, he had to know if he was dead or alive.

* * *

S
PECIAL
A
GENT
J
ULIE
W
HITEHEAD
ran her finger over the embossed wedding invitation from Cara Winchester and Mason Blackpaw, then tossed it into the trash. She had worked with Mason on the Slasher case along with Detective Miles McGregor, tracking down a notorious serial killer who’d committed horrific crimes against women. During the case, they’d made friends, but she couldn’t bear to attend the couple’s wedding—not when it was taking place on the Bucking Bronc Lodge.

Not when Brody Bloodworth would probably attend.

After all, he was the founder of the ranch for troubled boys, a project she whole-heartedly admired, but he was also the man who’d broken her heart. Even after seven years, the thought of seeing him again tore her in knots.

Of course, she hadn’t blamed him for hating her after his little brother had disappeared. If it hadn’t been for her selfishness, her eagerness to seduce him away from the rodeo, he would have been with Will, and the little boy never would have disappeared.

She’d never forgiven herself for that.

And she’d made it her sole mission in life to see that one day he was found.

The very reason she’d joined the TBI.

Agent Jay Cord, one of the agents who specialized in missing children cases, cursed as he strode over to her desk. “Dammit, did you hear that another little boy went missing?”

Julie’s lungs tightened. “Hank Forte. I feel so bad for that family.” Memories of the torturous hours after Will’s disappearance flashed back. “Any leads?”

“We’re still questioning all the workers at the fair, but so far nothing.”

She squeezed the stress ball on her desk, knowing the routine all too well. The family was always suspect, a fact that appalled her on their behalf and made her sick at the same time because a large percentage of the time they were guilty.

Next on their suspect list—their friends and relatives. The police and TBI would look into financials, search for motives, the whole time putting out feelers for pedophiles, ex-cons and mental patients. Then the wait for a ransom call. And what to do then?

And if one didn’t come...the terrible realization that their child might be dead. “The parents check out?” she asked.

“So far. Both seem devastated. No financial problems. No custody issues. No enemies that they know of.”

Julie frowned, thinking of all the cases they’d seen. The first forty-eight hours were crucial. Every second after lessened the chances they would find the child alive.

“I’m headed to Amarillo now,” Jay said. “Want to grab a bite of dinner with me on the way? There’s a great Italian place I’ve been wanting to try.”

Julie offered him a smile and considered the offer. She knew Jay wanted more from her than friendship or to be coworkers. But even though she liked and admired him, she didn’t have it in her heart to get involved with him.

Because your heart belongs to someone else.

No...because her heart had been broken, and she wouldn’t take the chance on love again.

Still, maybe she should give him a shot.

Julie stood and reached for her jacket to go with him, but her section chief Lee Hurt, strode in. “Wait a minute, Whitehead. I’ve got another case for you.”

Julie frowned. What could take precedence over looking for Hank Forte?