Thunder Horse Redemption. Elle James
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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.
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