Page 57 of For the Love of the Bull Rider

Just another day and they could have found the boy quickly, without any trouble. Second-guessing himself would never happen again.

As he approached the Circle C, Danny and Matt exited the barn, both on their cell phones. Tim stopped the truck and hopped out, sprinting over to Matt and taking his arm to stop his pacing.

“Thanks, Rob. They were at the school at eleven-thirty, or so Ryan’s teacher told me when she called. I appreciate anything you can do to help. I have no fuckin’ idea where they went, but I’ll try to think of a place and call ya back.” Matt said goodbye to the person on the other end of the line.

“Matty, I’m so sorry. I just didn’t…” Tim offered before he totally lost his shit and started to cry. He felt as if it was his fault for not giving Ryan the watch as he’d wanted to but hindsight was twenty-twenty.

Tim wasn’t sure what else he could have done to avoid the situation. Long before he’d shown up at the school to pick up Ryan, they’d already taken him.

Matt engulfed him in strong arms. “Baby, it wasn’t your fault. They were gonna do what they were gonna do. We just gotta get him back. His teacher called me after you left the school so upset, and she told me what happened today. I decided to call the Colonel. He’s got access to resources I’m sure we don’t even know about, and he said he’d look into it.”

Tim swallowed and stared into the bull rider’s azure eyes, trying hard to regain his composure. Falling apart and crying like a fucking baby would do no good. It was time for calmer heads to prevail.

“I have money, Matty. I can find us some more resources, I swear. I’m sure Uncle Josh, or maybe Ronni, knows people who can help us.

Matt leaned down to kiss his lips softly. “I love you, Timmy. We’ll get our son back, I swear.”

Chapter Twenty-four

Early Christmas morning, the doorbell rang as Matt sat at the kitchen table with two fingers of Jack chilling over three ice cubes in an old juice glass with Bam-Bam Flintstone on it. They were old jelly glasses he and Jeri had collected when he was a boy, and he remembered his mother giving him the set with allthe Flintstones characters on them as a gag gift the Christmas after he and Bertie were dreadfully wed.

The thought struck him funny as he emptied the glass, so he chuckled, hearing footsteps approaching. He turned to see a large man following Tim into the kitchen, and he smiled. He didn’t know the man, but if he was a friend of Tim’s, Matt knew they’d be friends quickly.

“This is DB Jeffers. DB, this is Ryan’s father, Matthew Collins,” his lover introduced. Matt stood unsteadily, bracing himself against the kitchen table before he extended his hand to the stranger.

“What can I do for ya?” he asked with an unattractive slur to his voice as he took in the man’s size. He was as big as a fucking refrigerator, and he had a gold tooth, which Matt found funny for no reason that made sense, but he was able to keep from laughing.

The man was shorter than Matt, and his skin was a deep brown. He was dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a red sweater with a gray, wool-tweed, driving cap on his head. He had a set of diamond studs in his ears, and he was wearing black, horn-rimmed glasses. He was a good-looking guy, but Matt had no idea why the man might be at his house.

“I spoke with Colonel Stanford last night and he sent me to help ya out with this situation. I was under him at Bliss before I got out last summer. Tell me what happened, sir,” the man requested as he took the seat Tim had offered.

Matt looked at his lover with a cocked eyebrow as Tim stood next to him, hand reaching out. “I’m gonna take this and make you some breakfast. DB, are you hungry?” Tim removed the empty whiskey glass and bottle, swatting Matt’s hand as he tried to grab them.

“Matthew, we need you to sober up so we can explain what happened to DB. I’ll try to start telling him the story, but youknow more of the details than me,” Tim insisted, which didn’t exactly make Matt happy.

He just wanted the pain to go away again. It had worked the last time Bertie took the boy, drinking to block the pain. Why not use a tried-and-true method?

After Matt hung up from his call with Rob the afternoon before—the day his son had been abducted—he went to the cabinet and pulled out the bottle just as he’d done when he came home to find his home empty and his three-year-old son missing.

They should have been sitting at his mother’s house where Ryan would be tearing through the gifts his parents and the Simmons’ had bought. Matt would have already taken Ryan to the barn to show him how Josie had settled in, and the saddle would be on the gate with a big ribbon on it, along with the bridle and saddle pad. It would have been so perfect.

Matt felt the tears leak and unlike earlier, he didn’t stop himself. He turned to the handsome stranger and pulled the wallet from his jeans’ back pocket, flipping it open to show him Ryan’s school picture. “That’s our boy. He’s gonna be eight this summer. He just lost a front tooth earlier in the month.”

Matt became too overwrought with emotion to continue speaking. His heart had blown apart, and he didn’t know if there was enough left to try to fix it—ever.

He sobbed as Tim cleared his voice. “DB, I’m sorry. He’s been drinking all night, and I shouldn’t have let him do it, but I can’t make him do anything he doesn’t want to do. After I feed him and get him into bed, I’ll tell you everything I know about this situation.”

Tim wrapped his arms around Matt’s shoulders and held him tight to his body. The bull rider did the same and sobbed into Tim’s stomach like he’d never stop crying for the rest of his life.

It was unbelievable to think Bertie could be so goddamn hard-hearted that she’d take his son, his reason for living, for the sake of money… yet again.

Matt looked up at Tim, “He should be here openin’ his gifts. He... The fuckin’ cops are full of shit and worthless,” Matt huffed out between sobs.

Tim pulled a tissue from the box and handed it to him. He blew his nose and tried to compose himself, but the whiskey and the circumstance had him hamstrung and an emotional mess.

DB pulled a small bottle out from his jeans pocket and addressed Tim. “Put this into a glass of warm water,” he instructed.

“What is it?”

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