“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” I fought to keep a tremor out of my tone. Failed.
“I think—” The man put a tattooed hand on the table top, his gaze pegging me in place. Another shiver went up my spine. Kid couldn’t be older than twenty-five, but everything about him exuded power. I saw the threat in just his stance alone. “—you meant to say, ‘yes, sir’.”
Fuck him and his manners.
But despite my annoyance, I grumbled out a quiet, “Yes, sir.”
That seemed to appease Bad and his other son, and with nothing more than a tilt of their hats, they all made to leave. I glanced down at the money all but burning a hole in my hands. Five thousand dollars was a good chunk of change. One I could use right now. But rage still flickered within me at the thought of that bitch and her pregnant belly. I reclaimed my bottle of whiskey and took a long pull. I wouldn’t call the cops. Wouldn’t go after her.
The liquor burned a path down my throat—a pleasant reprieve from the pain still throbbing across my face.
But…accidents do happen.
And I don’t know if I was paranoid, or if that biker fucker had some sort of sixth sense, but his lips pulled up into the barest hint ofa smirk as he knocked his knuckles against my table once. Twice. “Gotta feelin’ I’ll be seein’ you again soon.”
“I don’t think I will.” I pulled what courage I could from the alcohol. Some of these biker punks were pussies playing at being gangsters. If I showed him I wasn’t rattled, he might fuck off.
“You misunderstand.” He crouched down to my level again. Face inches from mine. His voice was still cold and dangerous, but his eyes burned like hellfire. And I understood in that moment, that while Bad and his other kid didn’t want any trouble.Thisone did. “You won’t see me. But I’ll see you.”
Chapter fifty-five
Something In The Orange
Maverick
Ipaced and pacedand paced, silently cursing myself for not asking Cash where the hell he was going before he left. With a final ring, his voicemail came on, and I growled, fumbling to turn off my phone. Doing things with my left hand sucked…but if there was any hope of me using my right for our run, I needed to save what tiny shred of strength I still had in it. It throbbed and pulsed beneath the makeshift splint; the Norco had done nothing for it. Though, I didn’t suspect it would.
Aunt Violet was right. I needed to get it checked out. But my hand would still be broken tomorrow. My shot at winning wouldn’t.
Black Betty snorted from where she stood tied up to the trailer, her tail raised high in the air, making her look like a damn Arabian. Playboy stood completely unbothered beside her.
“You get a hold of him?” Ryder asked, coming out of the trailer with Playboy’s saddle pad to place on his back. Cason sat quietly watching us in one of the camper chairs by the trailer.
“No.” I stalked for the saddle rack and followed Ryder’s lead, grabbing Black Betty’s gear. “I’ve called him a dozen times.”
Charlie came around from the front of the truck. “He didn’t answer my calls either, and Aunt Violet hasn’t heard from Bad.”
“Well, fuck.” Nothing seemed to be going right today. I blew out a steadying breath, trying to keep a hold on my temper.
Ryder came to stand at my side. “Maybe you should scratch,” he offered, the look in his eyes soft, sincere.
I scowled. “No. I ain’t scratchin’.”
He should understand more than anyone.
I needed this. The thought of—No. No, I wasn't thinking about her. Not right now. After my run, after the rodeo, hell, even on the entire truck-ride home, I could think about her. I could fall apart inside. But not right now.
“Well, you got fifteen minutes ‘til they start callin’ names. If he ain’t here by then, it won’t matter what you want.”
“You could rope in his place.”
Ryder barked out a laugh, genuine mirth gleaming in his gaze for a moment. “You know I’m shit at ropin’.”
“You ain’t that bad. Besides, you can head, I’ll heel. You can at least get the rope around the horns.”
Ryder sighed, placing his hands on his waist. Almost like he was thinking about it. He shook his head before meeting my gaze. “I think you’d be just as likely to win with Charlie as you would with me.”
“Hey!” Charlie frowned beside him. Ryder drew her into his side, kissing her lightly on the forehead. “Sorry, darlin’. I meant no offense to you.”
