I grin. “I’ll send you the details. How good are you at tracking people down?”
“Pretty decent. Well, Dom is.”
I nod. “There is someone the Sterlings want that might be hiding out here in LA.”
“I like this.”
“I can’t promise, but that might be the offering they need.”
Hunter Sterling wants Carson so he can buy Ranch 42. If Gianna offers him, I see that as a win-win all round. Ace told me Hunter will need some encouragement, and I think I’ve found it.
Now she just has to find a missing rancher.
"Now go," she says. "Before I change my mind."
I grab my bag and walk out of that café into the LA morning sun, and for once, the city doesn't feel like a cage.
I’ve got the key, I just have to unlock it. And that’s my next stop. LA Press.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Ace
The bag swings back, and I catch it with a left hook that sends a jolt up my forearm. The kind of hit that tells me my body's right. My head's right. Everything's dialed in for Saturday.
Jett holds the bag from the other side, bracing with his legs.
"Again," he says.
I go again. Combo this time. Left jab, right cross, left hook to the body. The bag shudders. Jett grunts.
"Harder."
"I hit you any harder, you're going through the barn wall," I say with a laugh.
"Do it anyway. You need to be meaner than that bull, Ace."
I reset. Bounce on my toes. I throw another combination, and the chain holding the bag groans.
"Good," Jett says, stepping back and wiping his forehead. "You're sharp. Saturday's yours."
"Saturday's always been mine." I unwrap my hands, flexing my fingers. "I just need my head clear and my body right. Everything else takes care of itself. I want this."
Jett grabs a water bottle and drops onto the bench. Tips it back, drains half of it, and then pulls out his phone.
"Speaking of Saturday," he says, scrolling. "Your socials have been dead."
"Good."
"Not good. You've got a title ride this weekend, and your last post is from a week ago. That's a dead account, Ace. Sponsors notice."
"Sponsors notice when I win. Which I will."
He turns his phone around. On the screen is a shirtless photo of me from last season. Leaning against the chute fence, hat low, sweat on my chest, looking at the camera like I was trying to sell something. Which I was. Because that's the game. Post the thirst trap. Get the engagement. Get the followers. Get the sponsorship deals. Rinse and repeat.
"One of these before Saturday," Jett says. "That's all I'm asking. Post-workout, towel over the shoulder, maybe shirtless with Seven in the background. The girls go insane for the horse content. You know this."
"No."
