There was no man more dedicated to his job than Detective Mason Blackpaw. Yet when he discovers a dead body at the Bucking Bronc Lodge, he's forced to confront his moment of greatest weakness—and a reunion with the very pregnant Dr. Cara Winchester.… Cara fell for the sexy Comanche officer the moment she laid eyes on him, captivated by his loyalty and fiercely protective instincts. Their romance was brief but intense, and when it ended, he left part of him with her. Now a killer was kidnapping her patients' babies, and Mason was on the case to stop him. But how would he react once the killer targeted her…or when Mason found out her child was also his? Award-winning author Rita Herron wrote her first book when she was twelve, but didn’t think real people grew up to be writers. Now she writes so she doesn’t have to get a real job. A former kindergarten teacher and workshop leader, she traded storytelling to kids for writing romance. She lives in Georgia with her own romance hero. She loves to hear from readers, so please visit her website, www.ritaherron.com. Detective Mason Blackpaw watched the guard close the prison doors behind Pruitt Ables and breathed a sigh of relief that the Slasher case was finally over. Ables had been the missing link in their investigation, but once they'd realized Robert Dugan, the man who'd viciously killed a half dozen women, had a half brother, the pieces had fallen into place. Mason exited the prison with a satisfied smile. He was a cowboy, a loner and a cop. He spent most of his days tracking down criminals. His job was his life and that was the way he liked it. No ties. No one to nag him about not being home when he was on a case. No one to expect him to be something he wasn't. Except for the law enforcement agencies. Tracking had come so natural to him that he was called in on high profile missing persons and most wanted cases. But now that he and Miles McGregor had locked up the sociopath and his accomplice, they'd decided to take some much needed R and R. Miles was headed to his new ranch with his son and new wife, and he had decided to devote some time to the troubled boys at the Bucking Bronc Lodge. He checked his watch, then jumped in his SUV and drove toward the BBL. He'd promised Brody Bloodworth, the founder of the operation, that he'd teach the kids some survival skills as well as tracking techniques. An hour later, he sat astride his favorite chestnut and introduced himself to the small group of twelve- to fourteen-year-olds. Ray was thirteen, had been beaten over and over by his old man and had a bad attitude. Wally was twelve and had lost an eye in a freak accident. Pablo had been in and out of foster homes and juvy. And Carlos…he had been a hero of sorts when the Slasher had taken some of the kids and Jordan Wells, Miles's fiancée, hostage a few weeks ago. "Ready to go?" he asked. The boys nodded, although Ray looked surly and Wally a little unsure in the saddle. He'd keep an eye on him, maybe ask Johnny Long, the rodeo star of the group, to spend a little extra time working with the kid on riding skills and building his confidence. "We're riding out to the creek on the south end," he said. He led the troops while Carlos held up the rear. As they rode, Mason pointed out landmarks, the different varieties of plant life on the property and how to use the sun as a compass. When they neared the creek, they climbed down from their horses, and he gave them a short lesson on herbs and plants that could be used for medicinal purposes. They hiked into the woods several hundred feet, and he pointed out some poisonous berries and explained how important it was to know the difference between what was safe to eat and what wasn't if you were ever stranded in the wilderness. "That's what the Indians do, ain't it?" Wally asked. "They make medicine from plants." "You're an Indian, aren't you?" Pablo asked. Mason forced a smile. "Yes, I'm part Comanche. And yes, many herbal medicines and cures originated from Native American culture." He was proud of his heritage, but he'd also encountered prejudice at times. Shocking that it still existed but it did. God knows he'd suffered the brunt of it a few times over the years. The last time had been seared into his memory. He had the scars to prove it. But the boys didn't need to hear that. Late afternoon shadows slashed the treetops as they walked along the stream, and he pointed out beaver teeth marks on a log and a coyote's paw prints near the water. A squawking sound cracked the air, and he glanced up and noticed several vultures circling above a rocky section a little farther south. An uneasy feeling splintered through him. Vultures circling… An animal was probably dead. Maybe a deer or another small animal. He had to check it out. "Guys, I'm going to ride over there and see what's going on." Wally had been studying the beaver teeth marks. "We want to go, too." Two of the vultures swooped down. "I'd better go alone," he said,