Saddle Up

by A. M. Arthur

  Miles turned. Reyes stood a few yards down the barn, hands clasped behind his back, his expression as tentative as his voice. “Hey,” Miles said dumbly. His body reacted to Reyes, immediately knowing they’d been apart for too long.

  Too bad his heart was hiding deep down in a place where it couldn’t get bruised again.

  “Hi,” Reyes said. “Going for a ride?”

  Duh. “Yeah, maybe I can clear my head, you know?”

  “Of course. Yesterday, as soon as the guests were gone, I took Hot Coffee out for a few hours.”

  “Right.” Miles wanted to invite Reyes along like old times, but he couldn’t. Not yet. “I should get to it while I’ve got good light.”

  “Absolutely.” Reyes’s shoulders hunched; the man was clearly miserable.

  It made Miles take a step closer and say, “I’m not breaking up with you, Reyes. I just need time.”

  “I understand. I did an unforgivable thing, and I promise I’m not trying to pressure you. I miss you, and I love you, Miles, but you need to do what’s best for you.”

  “Thank you. I love you, too, Reyes, that’s never been a problem.”

  “It’s other stuff.”

  “Yeah. We’ll talk soon, though, okay?”

  Reyes tried to smile and failed. “Okay. Good night.”

  “Night.”

  Miles finished tacking Tango, his mood slightly boosted thanks to his conversation with Reyes. He still loved the man, and he missed him like crazy, but Miles needed space to accept this horrible secret and fit their lives back together. And Reyes wasn’t alone. Yesterday, Mack admitted that he and Colt knew the truth, and they’d respect whatever decision Miles made. Miles adored the men for not blindly jumping to Reyes’s defense.

  He mounted and directed Tango to the north side of the barn and the side exit, not into the corral, but to the open area behind the barn where he’d left the ATV. And then he let Tango lead, giving her free rein to go where she wished, while he took in the scenery.

  And naturally, she chose the familiar path to Mack’s place, so Miles turned her toward the ghost town instead. It was less familiar, but once there, Miles could get them home with no trouble. He stared out at trees, leaves, branches, and brush, hoping his swirling thoughts might make sense, but they didn’t. He missed Reyes and wanted him and Hot Coffee out here with them. He also still saw that shadow of the teenager who stood by while another kid was hurt, and that was the thing Miles had to reconcile.

  Reyes loved him. Reyes had only ever loved, supported, and protected him. Miles had zero fear of Reyes ever physically harming or forcing him. So why was he still so tangled up over this?

  I trusted Dallas to take care of me, and he hurt me, over and over.

  Fucking Dallas. It had taken Miles over a year to really come to terms with Dallas’s abuse, and that had happened because of Reyes. But the two men were nothing alike. Dallas was a raging narcissist, who took what he wanted, the other person be damned. Reyes was self-sacrificing, loving, and so generous it made Miles’s heart ache sometimes.

  “He won’t hurt me,” Miles said to the growing gloom as the sun began setting in the distance, late beams hidden by rising mountain peaks. He stroked Tango’s smooth, silky neck. “We can figure this out, I know we can.”

  A loud, close, explosive sound made Miles yell in the same moment Tango screeched and bucked, rearing onto her back legs so suddenly, Miles couldn’t hold on. He fell through the air and hit the dirt on his back hard enough to knock the air from his lungs. Tango raced away, and Miles didn’t have the breath to call out for her. All he could do was stare up at a canopy of tree branches and urge his lungs to work correctly again.

  The hell was that?

  Sweet oxygen finally rushed in, only to leave again in a shocked rush when Dallas stood over him, a gun of some sort in his hand. Miles’s bladder threatened to let go as he gaped at the gun. The loud sound that had spooked Tango. And Dallas, even somewhat upside down, looked pissed.

  * * *

  Reyes tried to make nice during the barbecue, but his thoughts were so tangled up in Miles, he was probably doing more harm than good by trying to talk with guests. Colt was playing wingman now, though, and doing his best to charm folks here for the week, and Reyes was forever grateful.

  He missed Miles like crazy, and he was trying to respect his wishes regarding space, but seeing him in the barn earlier...it had stirred everything back up. Love, lust, desire, and above all, shame. Shame over his role in destroying the Santiago family and in keeping it a secret for so long.

  He deserved more than a single sucker punch from Julio, and they all knew it. Julio, Miles, Mack, and Colt knew it, because they knew what he’d done. Reyes’s greatest shame, his greatest failure.

  Miles deserves better than me.

  But Miles said he still loved Reyes and wasn’t breaking up with him. Miles was also keeping a deliberate distance, and if Reyes pushed, he could lose his boyfriend forever. Maybe that was what he deserved. It had to be Miles’s choice.

  I want my boyfriend back.

  Colt said something that made the couple they were chatting up laugh. They were retired, celebrating some sort of anniversary, but Reyes couldn’t remember what from their application. Fortunately, most of the guests were either dancing to bluegrass music or heading back to the guesthouse to relax for the evening and let their barbecue dinner digest. The little food Reyes had forced down sat heavily in his stomach.

  At some point, Colt excused them and directed Reyes away from the crowd, toward the quieter cabin area. “Dude, give it up for the night,” Colt said. “Your head isn’t in the game at all. You’re making me look bad.”

  Reyes snorted. “Sorry about making you look bad in front of your admirers.”

  “Hey, I come back from being with my boyfriend all weekend for this barbecue. I have to play up the flirty cowboy role just to keep from missing him and resenting this job.” Colt stopped, his mouth wide open. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “Complaining about my boyfriend when you’re having problems with yours.”

  “We aren’t having problems. Not exactly. We didn’t even have a fight. Miles just asked for space to think.”

  “You’re right, I phrased that wrong.”

  “It’s okay. Part of me wants to take Hot Coffee out to decompress, but Miles is out riding, and I don’t want to stumble over him and make him think I’m stalking him, or putting pressure on him.”

  Colt lightly knuckled him in the shoulder. “Look at you, giving up your second-favorite stress release for the guy you love.”

  “Second-favorite?”

  Colt crossed his eyes and mimicked jerking off. Reyes swatted at his ass, but Colt jumped away with a laugh. Joking with his friend was one of the first real, normal things he’d done since Friday’s confession, and it felt great. Hopeful. Like his life could actually settle again and find a new normal with Miles in it.

  He just needs to talk to me first.

  Two days had never felt so much like a lifetime.

  A sharp noise echoed in the distance, and Colt’s entire body went rigid, face impossibly pale in the dim light. Concerned, Reyes squeezed his wrist. “Colt?”

  “That was a gunshot,” Colt said in a strained voice.

  Now the reaction made sense. Ever since Colt had been shot last fall, he’d been a bit spooked by loud noises—wait. “Gunshot?” Reyes echoed. “Who the hell is firing a gun?”

  Robin jogged over from cabin row. “You guys hear that? Sounded like it came from the northwest.”

  The ghost town.

  “Colt, you hang here and let Judson know what we heard,” Reyes said. “Me and Robin are gonna take an ATV out and see what’s going on.”

  “Horses are quieter,” Robin said.

  Reyes chewed on his bottom
lip. He hated to take a horse out quick, without tacking her right, but if something was going on, they needed stealth. “Yeah, okay. You ride bareback?”

  Robin winked.

  * * *

  Miles wasn’t sure what part of him was screaming more loudly: his heart or his aching back. The last time a horse had thrown him, he’d been twelve and quicker to bounce back from it, and he’d also landed on grass. Right now, he was pretty sure he’d landed on a rock.

  “Fuck,” he said. “Ow.”

  Dallas circled him so he was directly facing Miles, and the look on Dallas’s face was far scarier than the gun in his hand. Miles had seen Dallas angry, and he’d seen Dallas drunk. He’d seen the man intent on a goal, but he’d never seen all three rolled into one, and it terrified him. He struggled to sit up, barely able to brace his hands on the ground behind him.

  “What the hell, Dallas? Why aren’t you in jail?”

  “Good lawyer. I’m loaded, remember?” Dallas had the gun pointed near Miles’s feet, but that made it no less menacing. The idiot had already fired it once, and around a horse! A horse Miles loved a whole hell of a lot. “Going after me was a very bad decision, Miles.”

  “Fuck you. You came after me first. I was trying to protect myself.”

  “By setting the cops on me?”

  “Yes.”

  Dallas narrowed his eyes, so unused to Miles standing up for himself and talking back. But Miles was done rolling over for Dallas. Even if Miles got killed in the process, Dallas didn’t get to win. Not this time.

  “Are you going to shoot me if I stand up?” Miles asked. He didn’t like being so vulnerable.

  “I kind of like you down there.” Dallas smirked. “Perfect level for a good skull-fuck, don’t you think?”

  Miles bristled. “You try to put anything in my mouth and I’ll bite it off.”

  “Fucking that cowboy gave you some balls, huh, baby? I like it. Thing is, those balls are giving me headaches, so I need you to drop all the charges against me.”

  “No.” Someone had to have heard that shot down at the ranch. All Miles needed to do was keep Dallas distracted and talking. Someone was coming.

  Right?

  I can’t rely on that. If I let my guard down and hope for rescue, I’m dead.

  “You know I can ruin you, right?” Dallas asked, his voice cold. “All the videos I have could be released online, and you’re over.”

  Miles eased into a better sitting position and, as he spoke, moved into a kneel. “How exactly are you going to ruin me? I don’t have any fans. Art Milo does, and there is no proof out there that I’m him. No one is going to care about Miles Arlington unwittingly starring in a porno.”

  “What about your parents, Miles?”

  A chill raced down his spine; he hadn’t given his parents a conscious thought in weeks. A scandal like this would embarrass them all over the place, but it would hardly ruin their careers at this point. “I think my parents will survive finding out their son was drugged and raped by his scummy ex.”

  Dallas shrugged. “I seem to recall multiple times in the past when you were pretty enthusiastic with your consent.”

  Miles bristled and stood slowly, his back aching, keenly aware of that gun. “You filmed me more than that one time?”

  “Duh. Why do you think I always wanted to fuck in my room?”

  “You son of a bitch.” Miles wished he could get the record function on his phone to work without being obvious about it, because Dallas was admitting to filming him without his consent, multiple times.

  “I don’t know how I feel about this new attitude, Miles. It’s kind of hot, but mostly annoying. Drop the charges, or you’re the newest internet amateur porn sensation. And then I’ll come after your cowboy and this ranch. I’ll find a way to ruin you.”

  “Not from jail, you won’t.”

  Dallas raised his hand and pointed the gun at Miles’s chest. “I could just kill you. There are plenty of places on this land to hide a body.”

  “You might be a raging asshole, Dallas, but you aren’t a killer.”

  “Even the nicest dog will bite you when backed into a corner.” He lashed out, and Miles couldn’t duck.

  The butt of the gun slammed into his nose, something snapped, and Miles dropped with a howl. Blood gushed down his lips and chin, and his eyes watered from the pain. Dallas shoved him to the ground, and Miles cried out again as his head banged off the hard, dry earth. He knew what Dallas wanted, though, and he thrashed. Shoved at the hands struggling with his clothes, because no way in hell.

  Two hands. Dallas had put down the gun somewhere. Miles cast about, and moonlight glinted off metal nearby. He didn’t want to shoot anyone, but it was him or Dallas, and Dallas was tugging at his belt.

  Miles reached out, desperate for a weapon. The gun was too far, but his fingers brushed over a rock the size of a grapefruit. He grabbed it so tight it cut into the palm of his hand. Dallas was wholly focused on getting Miles’s jeans open. Now was his moment. Maybe the only one he’d get. Miles swung at Dallas’s head with everything he had.

  The rock slammed into Dallas’s temple with a sickening crunch. His whole body jerked once, and then Dallas slumped to the side. No sound, no cry. He just fell. And in the sudden stillness, over the sound of his racing heart, Miles heard hoofbeats. Shock had fried his system, though, and Miles couldn’t find his voice to shout for help. He couldn’t fucking move. His entire body hurt, and the pain in his face was overwhelming. He’d never broken his nose before, and it was hard to breathe because he was starting to panic.

  Beside him, Dallas didn’t move. His legs were still tangled with Miles’s, and he wanted not to be touching Dallas anymore, but all Miles could do was lie there and shake.

  “Miles!”

  Reyes. Reyes!

  He let out an indecipherable noise.

  “That way!” Someone else. Familiar.

  The hoofbeats came closer, and Miles nearly sobbed at the sight of Reyes on Hot Coffee barreling out of the brush toward them. Robin rode beside him on Blizzard, and it took Miles a moment to realize both men were riding bareback.

  Reyes pulled Hot Coffee to a hard stop and slid off with perfect grace, his face twisted in anger and concern. Miles couldn’t imagine how he looked, flat on his back with his fly open, blood all over his face. Reyes eased to his knees next to Miles and touched his cheek. “Oh, mi alma, what did that bastard do?”

  Robin tugged Dallas a few feet away, finally getting that awful weight off Miles’s legs. “Is he alive?” Miles asked.

  “No gunshot wound,” Robin said. “Head’s bleeding, but he’s got a pulse.”

  Miles gasped in relief. Maybe he hated Dallas down to his bones, but he didn’t want the man dead. Reyes produced a handkerchief and wiped at Miles’s cheeks, his dark eyes blazing. “Where are you hurt?” he asked. “Can you move?”

  “I can move,” Miles replied. “Got thrown, hit hard. I think Dallas broke my nose.”

  Reyes growled. “I’ll kill him for touching you again. How’d he get out of jail?”

  “Money and lawyer.” Miles buttoned his fly and tightened his belt, grateful Dallas hadn’t done more than that before Miles could clock him. Once he was situated, Reyes gave him control of the handkerchief, then helped him sit up.

  The world spun clockwise for a moment, and Miles closed his eyes to wait it out.

  “Did you hit your head?” Reyes asked.

  “Think so. Not when Tango threw me, but when Dallas pushed me down. Shit, Tango.”

  “We’ll find her,” Robin said. “All the horses have trackers.”

  Miles blinked back hot tears, so sick of crying over Dallas and the bullshit things he did. “That asshole shot a gun near my horse.”

  Reyes slid an arm around his waist, and Miles leaned into his warmth. “Is that what sp
ooked her?”

  “Yeah. Dallas threatened me if I didn’t drop the charges. Threatened my parents, you, the ranch.” Miles closed his eyes, because his head really hurt. “Told him to go to hell.”

  “Good on you, and I mean that.”

  Robin was nearby, talking into his cell phone, so they couldn’t be super far from the ranch buildings if he got reception. Miles wanted his bed, but a hospital trip was in his future.

  “Hey, no sleeping.” Reyes ruffled his hair. “Keep talking to me, Miles. Please.”

  Talking took energy he didn’t have, but dear God, he’d missed being this close to Reyes. Soaking in his scent and body heat. “He got mad that I wouldn’t play his game, so he hit me with the gun. Broke my nose. Knocked me down. I hit my head. He tried to get my pants down, so I hit him with a rock.”

  Miles spotted the rock nearby with a splotch of something dark on it. Blood.

  Dallas’s blood.

  I don’t care. He tried to hurt me. Again.

  “He won’t hurt you anymore, I promise,” Reyes said with a low growl. “No matter what happens with us, he won’t hurt you.”

  “Oh, Reyes.” Miles grabbed the front of Reyes’s shirt as the world fuzzed out again. “I still love you. I want to be with you. I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you, too. It’s an impossible truth to accept. You take as long as you need.”

  “I called down to the house,” Robin said. “Sheriff and an ambulance are on the way. Judson used the sensor on Blizzard to find us, and we’re about two hundred yards from the road to Bentley. If we can meet them there, it’ll be easier to pick us up.”

  “Think you can walk that far?” Reyes asked.

  Miles grunted. “I can try.”

  “Fair enough. We can throw Dallas over Blizzard and walk the horses. Miles, would you rather ride Hot Coffee.”

  He eyed the big horse. “Never ridden bareback before.”

  Reyes made a soft, snorting sound, and Miles got the inside joke.

  “Okay, sit tight while I help Robin with Dallas,” Reyes said.