Текст книги "Reaper's Fall "
Автор книги: Joanna Wylde
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“I hear you. So you think it’ll take a while?”
“No idea,” he replied. “You flexible? I won’t need you there all the time, but I’ll want you backing me at least part of the time.”
“Sure, I can make it work,” I said, figuring I’d bring along a few sketch pads or something. I’d gone more than a year without doing any serious art—no reason to get worked up about it now. “What if we say you’re a trucker? Lets you come and go, distances you from club life while still giving you an excuse to ride a bike when you’re in town. Not only that, Pic’s got his hands on Pace Howard’s big rig right now—he let him park it behind the shop while he’s deployed, promised he’d keep it up and running. Maybe we can use that.”
Gage nodded thoughtfully.
“Not a bad idea,” he said. “I’ll talk to Pic, see what he has to say about it. How are you holding up? Two weeks out now, right?”
“Good,” I said, realizing it was true. Aside from the Melanie situation, I was happy with things overall. “Parole officer—I’m with Torres, he’s on the payroll—seems to know his place. Not supposed to be heading out of state, but he’ll cover for me.”
“All right, then,” he said. “I’ll talk to Pic. Let me know if there’s any complications on your end, and we’ll plan to leave tomorrow or Monday.”
I nodded, then headed down the stairs toward the main floor of the Armory. There were more people up and about now. I could smell breakfast coming from the kitchen and figured they’d be doing the usual—cooking inside, serving food out in the courtyard.
Might as well get myself something to eat.
Outside I grabbed a plate and then loaded up on eggs, ham, and hash browns. I’d just sat down at a table with Ruger, Horse, and Duck when Kit Hayes—Em’s evil sister, and I don’t use those words lightly—plopped down next to me.
“We’re going to the fair tonight,” she announced. “A bunch of us want to see the rodeo and maybe eat some of those little donuts that they throw in the bags with powdered sugar. Sophie and Marie want to go, but your ladies won’t if you guys don’t. What do you think?”
“Note how she pretends our opinion matters,” Duck muttered, leaning toward me. I had to smile. The older man was in his sixties, and while he was always shown respect, he tended to stick close to the clubhouse most of the time.
“Don’t look at me,” I told him. “She’s here to recruit Horse and Ruger.”
Kit glared at me.
“Don’t spoil it,” she said, arching a brow. “We want everyone to come with us, but I know for a fact that Marie won’t go if Horse doesn’t, and the same for Sophie and Ruger. They feel like there’s work to do out here at the Armory.”
“There is work to do out here,” Horse said, his voice dry. “We’ve guests camped out back. They’ll need dinner.”
“Which they can buy at the fair,” Kit said, her smile growing grim and fixed. “Not only that, there’s plenty of other women who aren’t going. And it’s not like the rodeo goes that late. You can all come back here and party when it’s over . . . and it’s not like sitting around drinking in this courtyard is anything special. You guys do that all the time. The rodeo only comes once a year.”
Ruger sighed. “It’ll be easier to give in now.”
“Pussy,” I said, although the man never really had a chance. Nobody could stand up to the Hayes girls when they set their minds on something, and apparently their minds were set on going to the fair.
“Oh, and Painter?” Kit asked, and I swear to fuck she fluttered her eyelashes at me. “We’re bringing Melanie with us, so if you want to stay here that’d be just great. I’m sure she doesn’t want you around.”
That little bitch. Now I had to go.
I took a bite of my eggs, pretending to ignore her. She laughed, then skipped off across the courtyard, presumably looking for fresh victims.
“I’m real glad that girl moved to Vancouver,” Duck said, sighing. “I love her like my own, but damned if she doesn’t stir shit wherever she goes. I assume you’ll all be out at the fair tonight?”
I stared down at my food, pretending to be fascinated by the pattern of ketchup across the hash browns.
Duck laughed.
MELANIE
“Pleeeeese . . .” Kit whined, kneeling on the ground in front of me. She’d caught me and Jess out in the front yard—note to self: never go outside or even unlock the door again when the Hayes girls are in town—and dramatically demanded that we go to the rodeo with her, because “Those cowboys aren’t gonna pinch their own butts.”
While I’m sure this was true, I still wasn’t planning to go with her—I had a paper to work on, and I’d already made a fool out of myself the night before. Avoiding the Reapers was high on my list of priorities, yet here Kit was, on her knees in all her Bettie Page–inspired glory.
Parked behind her on the street were no less than five Devil’s Jacks riders led by Hunter, Em’s old man.
No pressure at all, right?
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Taz climb off his bike and start walking toward me. Gaw. I felt my cheeks heating up as the memories of last night flooded me.
Alcohol. Alcohol was the enemy here. Alcohol and the Hayes family.
Taz came up next to me, draping his arm over my shoulder.
“You sure you ladies don’t want to come out with us?” he asked. “Fried food. Horseshit. What’s not to love?”
Jess glanced at him, cocking an eyebrow.
“Not a fan of the rodeo?” she asked. Taz laughed.
“Motorcycles don’t leave piles of crap everywhere they go. I think that sums up my feelings on the issue.”
Jess grinned, startling me because she wasn’t exactly a fan of bikers.
“I’m Jessica,” she said. Ruh-roh. That was her cute “I’m available” voice. So much for the celibate streak.
“You’re coming with us, right?” Kit asked hopefully, honing in on Jess. The girl could smell weakness.
“I think we could swing it, don’t you, Mel?” Jess asked innocently. I narrowed my eyes at her.
“Sure,” I replied my voice dry. “Can’t wait.”
Taz snorted, giving my shoulder a squeeze.
“Don’t get so excited,” he murmured in my ear. “You might strain something.”
“Okay, go grab your stuff,” Kit said, jumping up and beaming at us proudly. She was really taking this “new family” thing seriously now that they’d set a date for the wedding. After this weekend, I couldn’t wait for it to be over. December couldn’t come soon enough. “Everyone else is already out there.”
“All right,” Jess said brightly, grabbing my arm and jerking me away from Taz. “We’ll be five minutes, tops.”
• • •
“I thought you hated bikers,” I reminded her once we were back inside. “And five minutes isn’t very much time to get ready. Not to mention I have a paper due this week, you know.”
“You can pump out a paper like that in half an hour,” she said. “And you look great. Just throw on some lip gloss and grab your stuff. I’ve been rethinking my position on bikers . . .”
“Oh really? Since when?”
“Since I saw Taz—that guy is completely and totally fuckable. Now here’s what I need to know—is there anything between you and him? I know you came home with Painter, but Taz was all over you outside. Usually I’d say that meant something, but those guys are so damned touchy-feely that it’s hard to tell.”
“I hung out with him for a while last night,” I admitted. “But I’m not looking for anything more—my head’s messed up enough as it is, with Painter. I don’t need another biker running around in there, too. He’s all yours.”
“Perfect,” she said, licking her lips. “I’ve been a very good girl for a long time now. I think it’s time to put myself back on the market.”
Poor Taz.
The man was screwed. Literally. Somehow I had a feeling he wouldn’t mind too much.
Exactly four minutes and fifty-nine seconds later, we were back outside. I wasn’t looking my best, but I didn’t look bad, either—cutoff shorts, cute tank top, and an old pair of cowboy boots my mom had left behind when she took off.
Not much of a legacy, but they’d be useful today.
“So who are we riding with?” Jess asked coyly when we came back out.
“I’ve got room,” said a tall, lanky guy with dark hair and tattoos up and around his neck. I smiled at him, figuring I’d take him up on the offer, but Taz dropped his arm across my shoulders again.
“She’s with me,” he said. Em and Kit exchanged looks, and Jessica managed to hide her disappointment, running a hand up and along Mr. Tattoo’s shoulder.
“I’d love to ride with you,” she said, turning on the full charm. It was almost creepy, how quickly she dropped the good-girl facade. I’d forgotten how fast she worked.
Jess might be older and smarter, but she was still Jess.
It only took about five minutes to reach the fairgrounds, although it was enough time for me to establish that Taz had very nice abs. Volunteers on horseback had us park in a big, empty field back behind the horse barns. There were already at least thirty bikes there, guarded by prospects from the Reapers, the Silver Bastards, and the Devil’s Jacks. Taz caught my hand as we walked toward the gate, casually possessive in a way that both thrilled and scared me. Ultimately he wasn’t the guy I wanted, and I didn’t want to lead him on . . . but what kind of woman doesn’t enjoy a hot guy holding her hand in public? Could you be more superficial? Doubtful. Crap. I should probably end this before it turned into anything, I decided. I tugged on his hand.
“Can we talk for a minute?” I asked.
“Sure,” he said, stepping to the side so the others could pass. Jess cocked a brow at me but I ignored her.
“What’s up?” Taz asked. I looked up at him, taking in his nearly perfect features, that sexy hair still pulled back, and the way his eyes all but oozed sex. Had I lost my mind, turning this guy down?
Probably.
“Um . . . I guess there’s no easy way to say this, but I was really drunk last night,” I started. He gave me a gentle smile.
“Picked up on that.”
I felt myself blushing—I should never drink like that again. I knew that compared to some people, it hadn’t been very bad, but I hated feeling so out of control. My dad was always doing stupid shit when he was drunk.
I was better than that . . . at least, I wanted to be better than that. Right after I made it through this trip to the fair.
“So I’m not really looking for a relationship,” I started. Taz’s smile grew wider.
“Works for me. I’m just trying to get laid,” he said bluntly, and while you’d think his words would’ve been offensive, somehow—from him—it just felt like he was shooting straight with me. “And I already know I’m not getting anywhere with you. But your little roommate is hot for it, and it’s driving her crazy that I’m with you. Painter’ll probably be out here later, so you can piss him off by hanging on me. Right about the time he loses his shit and hauls you off, she’ll be ready and willing to comfort me in my sorrow. It’s win-win, really.”
I gaped at him.
“I can’t believe you just told me that,” I said finally. “That’s pretty shameless.”
“Shame isn’t really my thing,” he said, radiating cocky confidence. “Just roll with it, babe. We’ll have a good time, and then you’ll go home with Painter while I nail your roomie.”
I blinked.
“You realize I’m totally going to warn her about you,” I finally managed to say. He smiled, pure sin on a stick. Or would that be sin with a stick? Heh.
“I’m counting on it,” he said. “She likes trouble—I can tell. It’ll turn her on, challenge her. The more you warn her, the easier it’ll be.”
I frowned, trying to decide how that made me feel.
“Let’s go,” he said. “I’m hungry, and Em says the BBQ out here is incredible. I’ll even buy you dinner. Sound good?”
I nodded, still confused. I wasn’t sure how to deal with this, but he was right about one thing . . . fair BBQ was the shit, and damned if I wasn’t hungry.
CHAPTER SIX
PAINTER
The fair sucked.
Taz had shown up with Melanie at his side, and I’d spent the last two hours wandering the exhibit tents, watching them and festering, because he was doing everything he could to fuck with me.
Cockwad.
Whenever she turned away, he’d thrust his hips toward her or pretend to grab her ass. Flick his tongue. Squeeze his dick. Nothing but a damned pervert. Hunter was in on it, too, taunting me quietly whenever he had the chance. My own brothers were fucking useless. Horse just rolled his eyes, and when we finally headed into the BBQ tent for dinner, Ruger pointed out that if I didn’t have the balls to claim her, I should let it go.
God help me, if these fuckers were supposed to be my backup, I’d do better on my own. The night was fucking endless. I could give two shits about rodeo—thought it was decent entertainment, but I wouldn’t be out here if it wasn’t for Melanie. I kept trying to catch her eye, but she wouldn’t look at me. I knew she was aware, though, because she kept blushing. Probably embarrassed about last night. Fair enough . . . But the longer I watched her with Taz, the harder it was to keep my distance.
She deserved a man who was perfect, and that fucker didn’t qualify.
At least the food was good. There were a hundred different places to eat around the fairgrounds, but the BBQ had to be the best. If I needed proof I was fucked in the head, it came when I reached the line. There was a pretty little thing ahead of me who kept bumping into me “accidentally.” I’d be all over that if I weren’t completely focused on Mel, and the fact that Taz couldn’t keep his fucking hands off her.
Ten minutes later I headed toward the long tables set up outside the tent carrying a plate of ribs, potato salad, and corn bread. I found a spot at one end, where Horse sat down next to me, flanked by Marie. Ruger and his old lady, Sophie, sat across from us, leaving plenty of room for the others farther down. Soon Kit, Em, and Hunter joined us, and then Taz and Melanie sat next to them. The girls started laughing and giggling together as Jessica joined them.
She seemed to have hooked up with Hunter’s best friend, Skid. She might not be my favorite, but she deserved better than that fuckwad. Better keep an eye on her. Looking away, I caught Horse checking out Jess and Skid, too. Then he caught my gaze and we shared a wordless conversation—Jess was young. We’d both be looking out for her. Taz stood up.
“Anyone want a drink?” he asked, staring right at me. “The ladies look thirsty—thought maybe I’d buy a round.”
Oh, that asshole. He was trying to get Mel drunk again.
“I’m fine with water,” she insisted, and I bit back a smile. Suck it, cockwad. She’s onto you.
• • •
Dinner lasted way too long. Between Kit’s nonstop mouth and Taz’s little digs, I wasn’t entirely sure I’d make it through. Then everyone scattered to hit the bathrooms after we cleared our plates.
Taz stood next to me—whistling happily—while we took a piss, and that’s when I decided I’d had enough of his shit. As we walked out, I nodded at him to follow me behind the nearest display tent for a private word. Too bad it was the Kootenai County Sheriff’s booth—not an ideal spot to murder a man. Shitty to be me.
“What kind of game are you playing?” I asked him, forcing my tone to stay steady and relaxed.
“Having fun, Brooks? I’m likin’ that Mel girl. She’s got a real nice pussy.” Taz cracked his knuckles thoughtfully. “Later—you know, when I’m fuckin’ her while you’re making sweet love to your hand? I’ll be sure to take a few notes, let you know how it goes.”
A year ago I would’ve taken him down, regardless of the fact that only a canvas wall separated us from six cops. Prison had taught me self-control, though. Puck and I had been almost completely alone down in Cali—we couldn’t afford luxuries like acting on our anger. Not if we wanted to live.
Now I used that hard-won self-control to hold my shit together.
“This ends now,” I told him flatly, refusing to play his game. Taz raised a brow.
“This?”
“Don’t be stupid, you know what I mean,” I replied, tired of all the bullshit. “She’s nothing to you, so when she comes back out, she’s with me.”
“How do you figure?”
I smiled slowly, reaching a hand down to touch the survival knife I always kept sheathed on my hip. “You touch her, I’ll gut you here and now, in front of witnesses. You’ll be dead and the peace between our clubs will end—all because you wouldn’t drop a girl you don’t give two shits about. That really how you want this to play out?”
His face sobered.
“You’re bluffing. I know you’re on probation—they’ll send you back to jail, and we’d get you on the inside,” he said slowly. I shrugged, almost hoping he’d call me on it. Not that I wanted to end my life rotting in a cell, but killing this fucker might be worth it.
“Maybe,” I replied, offering him a sweet smile. “Guess there’s really only one way for you to find out.”
“You’d really start a war over this girl?”
I paused, considering. “Yup.”
Taz shook his head slowly, holding up his hands in surrender. “Fuckin’ have her. I’m after her roommate anyway. Just messin’ with you, that’s all.”
I felt my shoulders relax, because I’d actually been ready to do it—I’d have killed him if he touched her again. Jesus.
“You should seek some professional help,” Taz said, sounding almost concerned.
“Like a shrink?” I asked, biting back a laugh. “Yeah, I met one of those on the inside. We didn’t get along all that well.”
“I was thinkin’ a good whore,” he replied, smiling reluctantly. “You do get that a pussy’s a pussy, right? Hot, wet, and tight’s all that matters.”
Fuck. Why’d he have to say that? Now I was thinking about her pussy, which I was 100 percent certain was primo in every way. My phone buzzed. I grabbed it, finding a text from Horse.
HORSE: All good? Everyones back by the food tables
ME: Be there in a sec
I looked at Taz again. “We good?”
He nodded.
“Sure, whatever,” he said. “But seriously—you might want to go ahead and claim that girl. This kind of crazy can get dangerous, you pull it on the wrong guy. Only fair to let the rest of us know exactly where things stand ahead of time.”
I frowned, because I wasn’t ready to do that. I still wanted better for her. Someone nice, who’d work a steady job, maybe take her to Hawaii every other year. Wash her car on Saturday mornings. Unfortunately, every time I tried to picture that guy, he was dead at my feet.
Maybe I did have a complex.
• • •
By the time we reached the group, the rodeo was about to start. While I wasn’t a huge fan, I couldn’t deny there was something about seeing a guy go the full eight seconds on top of one of those big bulls. The rodeo queens weren’t half bad in their tight jeans, either. I walked over toward Melanie, offering her a grim smile.
“Taz is busy,” I told her, blatantly ignoring the fact that Taz was standing less than six feet from us, doing exactly jack shit. “You’re with me the rest of the night.”
She coughed, choking a little, and I gave her back a thump while the rest of the group watched, obviously enjoying our little drama.
“Don’t you have your own lives to entertain you?” I asked, annoyed.
“Nope,” Kit said, eyes wide. “Carry on.”
Fucking devil girl.
Mel glared at her, flipping her off. Damn, that was sexy. Speakers crackled to life on a pole raised high above the fairgrounds.
“Folks, we’ll be starting our rodeo in another fifteen minutes or so. That means now’s the time to grab a drink or a snack and make your way to your seats.”
Everyone turned toward the grandstands, thankfully losing interest in us. Taz was drifting toward Jessica, and I noted that Mel didn’t seem particularly surprised by this development. Interesting. And if Taz hooked up with Jess, that was one less thing to worry about—Taz might be a dick, but he wasn’t a fucking sociopath like Skid was.
We were too late to get really good seats, but there was still plenty of room toward the top of the covered bleachers. Ignoring her frowns, I deliberately herded Mel toward the end, then sat between her and the rest of the group, staring at her ass the entire time.
“I’m grabbing some beer,” Horse announced. “Anyone?”
I nodded, lifting my hips enough to pull out my wallet, which I wore attached to a chain. I pulled out a couple bills and handed them over. Then Horse and Marie started back down the stairs toward the bar, along with Kit, who approached bringing booze to the masses with near religious zeal. That left a sizable gap between us and the rest of the group, which worked just fine for me.
“You know Taz is a player, right?” I told Mel, eyes on the arena where the rodeo queens and princesses rode around in circles, warming up their horses. She blushed, refusing to look at me. Yup, definitely still embarrassed about last night.
“It’s really none of your business . . . but yes, I’m aware,” she whispered. “I’ll admit—I was drunk and stupid out at the Armory, but I’m sober now and normally I’m not a total idiot.”
“I don’t think you’re an idiot,” I said. “I just wanted to warn you.”
“I think I got enough warning last night. I’m only here because Kit dragged me. She’s evil.”
My cock jumped at the memory of that “warning,” and I took a deep breath, reminding myself that jumping a girl in public was probably a parole violation.
“Aren’t you girls supposed to all be in this together?” I asked, pushing through the wave of lust. “And for the record, I think she’s the devil incarnate. Been making my life a living hell for years, little witch.”
Melanie gave a cute giggle, shooting me a shy look from under her eyelashes. “If that’s the case, how did she get you out to the fair?”
I cleared my throat, not wanting to get into details. Damned if I’d admit anything.
“Doesn’t matter,” I said, looking back toward the arena. Where the fuck was Horse with the beer, anyway?
“Hey, I’m really sorry about last night,” Mel said, so quietly I nearly missed it.
“What? No, don’t worry about it,” I told her, wishing I hadn’t come down on her so hard. Fuck, and now I was thinking about coming and going down on her. I’d just been so damned horny and she’d been right there, on her knees in the grass like a thousand fantasies I’d beaten off to in the darkness . . . I’d had to do something to make it end, even if it meant hurting her.
“I was really drunk. I didn’t mean to take advantage of you.”
Fucking hell, I was a douche.
“You didn’t take advantage of me,” I said. “Let’s just drop it. No harm, no foul.”
“Okay,” she whispered. Awkward silence fell between us again. I wanted to ask her about school, about how things were going with Jess and her living together . . . I also wanted to know if she’d kept dating that dickwad she’d written to me about—the one who wanted to get too serious too fast.
The same one I’d told her I thought she should give a shot, because I’m a fucking masochist.
“Beer,” Horse said, handing me two aluminum bottles of Bud. “Enjoy.”
He dropped down next to me, and I glanced over to see Marie snuggling into his side. Christ, but they were cute together. Made me want to vomit. I twisted off a cap and handed the bottle over to Mel. She looked at me, surprised.
“I was super drunk last night,” she reminded me. “I thought you were pissed about that.”
Oh, I’d been pissed, all right. Mostly pissed about Taz touching what belonged to me, except she didn’t belong to me and she never would. I opened my own drink and sucked it down.
“Suit yourself,” I said, shrugging. “I don’t care either way.”
Her face closed up and she looked away. Stop being such a dick, dumbass. I reached over, catching her hand. I’d meant to give her a reassuring little squeeze or some stupid shit. Somehow the touch of her skin short-circuited my brain, though. She felt warm and soft. I wanted to crawl inside her, and not in the way you think, you fucking pervert.
Okay, so maybe I wanted to do that, too.
“I’m sorry,” I told her, the words soft. “I don’t give a shit either way if you drink the beer, Mel, that’s all I meant. I’m a jackass, but I’m not actively trying to make tonight bad for you.”
She gave me a faint, almost trembling smile as her fingers wrapped around mine, giving a little squeeze, which I swear I felt all the way to my cock.
The loudspeakers crackled to life.
“Please stand for Coeur d’Alene’s own Josina Bradley, who will be singing the national anthem,” the announcer said as riders started pouring into the arena at full gallop, American flags streaming from staffs braced against their stirrups. All around us cowboy hats came off as the troupe of girls on horses—young rodeo queens and princesses—came to a halt in a long line in the center, pinwheeling toward the audience with as much precision as the club did when we rode in a pack.
The music started, and I held Melanie’s hand—friends hold hands, right?—through the whole song, and then through the Canadian national anthem that followed. All around us people were cheering but we stayed quiet. I suppose I could tell you all about how hard it was not to pop a boner in front of everyone or all the different ways I was imagining fucking her. Right here, right now. Under the bleachers. In the bathroom.
In the sheriff’s tent . . . Nice.
It was all true, of course. But that’s not what stands out to me the most. More than anything, I remember standing next to her, holding her hand. Smelling her and knowing that she was safe and perfect and beautiful.
And for tonight, she was all mine.
MELANIE
It felt like a dream, just sitting next to Painter, holding his hand while we watched the rodeo. I was still embarrassed over what’d happened out at the Armory, of course. But his presence seemed to fulfill that strange craving I’d felt from the moment I’d met him—like an aching itch inside me was finally satisfied. (Well, not totally satisfied, but you know what I mean.)
On the far side of him, all the club people were laughing and talking and cheering. We were quiet. I don’t know about him, but I was scared to say the wrong thing, to break this weird spell that had fallen over us . . . so I sat back to watch the roping and the barrel racing, savoring every second in his presence. Didn’t hurt that the side of Painter’s leg pressed against the side of mine, every inch of it hot and hard and so close I could’ve just reached out and dug my fingers in deep, if I’d had the nerve. Somehow I managed to hold off—I’d already humiliated myself once in the last twenty-four hours.
Still, when Painter wrapped his arm around me, I told myself that I might as well enjoy it, seeing as it’d gotten dark and was starting to get cold. (Okay, so it was at least eighty-five degrees and I was sweltering, but what’s a woman to do under those kinds of circumstances?)
The rodeo was winding down when his fingers started moving across my shoulder. I could smell him all around me—male sweat, which was weirdly sexy. Leather from his cut. A hint of beer, although not too much. He’d only had a couple over the course of the night.
I wanted to lean over and sniff his neck like a creeper.
The Devil’s Jacks and Reapers who’d come with us had gotten louder with time, although not so much that they were obnoxious. I’d seen the way people shied away from us, though. I understood why, too. I still remembered how I’d felt the first time I’d seen London with Reese—he’d looked like a monster to me. Then the monster had taken me in and given me a home, so I guess I couldn’t exactly point fingers.
My head had fallen to Painter’s shoulder, and I found myself drifting as he continued to rub my arm. Somehow along the way, my hand fell to his thigh despite my best intentions. I wasn’t feeling him up, exactly, but I was definitely feeling him. Strong, thick muscles tensed beneath my touch. And I do mean tensed—he wasn’t relaxed at all. Not even a little. Painter was all coiled strength and power just waiting to break free in a burst of violence or . . . something. Best not to think about that.
God, but I wanted him.
By the time the bull riding started, I’d fallen into a Painter-induced haze. I watched lazily as big Dodge Ram trucks pulled out into the arena to drop off the barrel for the rodeo clown.
“Ladies and gentlemen, now is the time you’ve all been waiting for—does anyone like bull riding?” asked the announcer.
The crowd went crazy, cheering as loud music poured through the speakers.
“We always save the best for last here at the North Idaho Rodeo, and tonight you’ll see ten men brave the most dangerous eight seconds in all of sports. First up is James Lynch, all the way from Weezer, Idaho. This is his third year on the circuit, and he’s looking to take home a prize tonight. Feel like giving him a little encouragement?”
All around us, people shouted again as the music got louder. I sat up a little straighter, watching as two men came out to stand on either side of a gate against the back fence, loose-limbed and ready for action. One of them looked almost familiar, although it was hard to tell from so far away. Seconds later the gate opened, and the bull exploded out. Lynch held on tight to the ropes, one hand held high in the air as the massive animal tried to buck him off. I found myself forgetting to breathe as eight of the longest seconds in history ticked slowly by, counting down on the big display board.
He’d almost made it when the bull twisted, and then he was flying through the air. One of the men who’d been flanking the gate darted in between the bull and the fallen rider, using his body to distract the beast. The other grabbed the cowboy, pulling him to his feet.
Holy shit.
Lynch ran for the fence, jumping up against the metal bars as men waiting on the other side pulled him over. Riders raced into the arena toward the bull, chasing it toward the far gate.
The whole thing had taken maybe twenty seconds, tops.
“Better luck next time, James,” the announcer said. “Now let’s take a moment to put our hands together for our bullfighters this evening, folks. You saw them in action just now—these athletes have a tough job out here, because it’s up to them to protect our cowboys once they hit the dirt. They do it the hard way, too. Tonight is a special night for one of them . . . He’s playing for his hometown crowd for the first time this weekend. Chase McKinney is a Coeur d’Alene boy, born and raised right here in this community. Chase, how does it feel to be here tonight?”
Around me people exploded in excitement as one of the bullfighters raised a hand, waving at the grandstands before giving a thumbs-up toward the announcer. No wonder he looked familiar—he’d been a few years ahead of me in high school. Not that I really knew him, but I’d seen him around. Pretty sure he’d been a senior when I was a freshman . . . Past Painter, I saw both Em and Kit on their feet, hooting and shouting like crazed monkeys.
