by Soraya Lane
“Ryder…”
He spun around and strode toward the temporary bar. Nate would follow—eventually—but right now Ryder needed a whiskey. Three pours over ice. Or maybe even the entire bottle.
“Wait up!”
Ryder grinned when his brother called out. They might argue all the time, but when it came to drinking or women, they were always on the same page. Ryder slowed so Nate could catch up, and then they fell into an easy step side by side.
“So where did you meet her?”
“She was watching the title ride.”
Nate groaned. “Seriously? You’re all ruffled up over a rodeo groupie?”
Ryder nudged him hard in the shoulder. “She’s no groupie. I only managed to get her number because I wrangled it out of her friend.”
“You’re kidding me?” Nate’s shoulders shook as he laughed. “You’re losing your touch. Need some pointers from your big bro?”
“Ha ha, real funny,” Ryder muttered. The truth was he wasn’t used to hearing the word no, not when it came to women, which was why he was even more determined to hear her say yes.
“Hey look, it’s Ryder King!”
He glanced sideways and saw a group of girls squealing and laughing, hurrying toward him. He didn’t mind the fuss, usually loved it, but right now he just wanted a drink.
“Looks like you could take your pick here,” Nate murmured, low enough for only Ryder to hear.
“Will you sign my T-shirt?” a cute blonde asked.
He turned on the charm, smiling and hitching a thumb into his belt loop as he looked down at them. They were young, maybe eighteen or nineteen, but it was still flattering. And he’d never said no to signing across any woman’s breasts before, even if they were covered in a tight white tee with a bucking bronc on the front rather than bare.
“Any of you gorgeous ladies have a pen?” he drawled.
They all giggled again before a brunette plucked one from her purse and passed it to him. Ryder signed each of their T-shirts before folding his arms, standing back to look at the group. They were all beautiful. He should have invited them for a drink and enjoyed the view, but the only woman he wanted to entertain tonight had turned him down flat.
“Now y’all go and have a good night,” he said, taking a few steps back before turning away. “And don’t forget to come watch me ride a bronc later on.”
“A bronc ride?” Nate growled out. “You’re out of your fucking mind. The doctor said…”
Ryder walked off and left his brother talking to the dust in his wake. He knew exactly what the doctor had said—that he had to be careful—and he was. But he also wasn’t giving up the one thing in his life he loved, no matter how dangerous it was. He’d started wearing protective gear at the big rodeos, but the rest was down to being smart—and lucky.
He pulled his phone from his pocket to check if the mystery woman had sent him a text back, frowning when he saw the screen was empty. It was time to put in the hard yards—she might want to play hard to get, but he was a King, and Kings never turned down a challenge. And they always won.
Chapter 2
Cool beads of sweat broke out across Ryder’s top lip. Not wanting to give himself away, he calmly reached for his beer and took a long, slow sip, his gaze traveling to each of the men seated at the table around him. The smoke filling the small room was starting to make his eyes sting, but he hardly blinked, staying still and silent as he decided what to do. It had been an exhilarating weekend, and he wanted to end on a high. Since he’d been back in Texas he’d been trying so hard to toe the line, but damn, he still needed to have a little fun sometimes. After the three years he’d had on his own, living rough half the time, gambling, riding … it was hard to stay on the straight and narrow.
Ryder looked at his hand, fingers playing across the slightly worn edges of the cards, before leaning back in his seat at the same time as he pushed his money to the center of the table.
“All in,” he said, folding his arms across his chest and waiting for the other men to make their play.
“I’ll see your fifty thousand dollars.”
A couple of the guys folded, leaving only three of them in the game. Ryder’s heart was pounding loud, adrenaline racing through his body. He lived for moments like this. Card games, horse races, bronc or bull rides—it was the thrill of the win that made him tick.
“You’re bluffing,” the man seated across from him growled out.
Ryder shrugged and matched his stare, refusing to be intimidated. He was the youngest player at the table by at least a decade, but it took a lot more than a bully with a couple of thugs on the payroll to intimidate him. Especially when it came to gambling. And he’d been dealing with Parker since he was a boy—the bad blood between their families stretched back decades, and the tension still hadn’t eased any.
“Fast game’s a good game, isn’t that right, boys?” Ryder grinned as a few of the men glared at him, the others too interested in their drinks to care. He pushed his chair back on two legs and reached for his beer again, tipping it back and finishing the bottle.
“Fuck you. I’m all in, too.”
Ryder watched the other player’s face, knew his tell, and had that unmistakable gut feeling that he’d just won a shitload of money. Brent Parker had the toughest reputation in town, was notorious for gambling big and shafting people out of everything from their land to the bank balance. But not tonight.
Ryder placed all his cards facedown on the table, one eyebrow raised as he slowly leaned forward, scooped all the money to his side of the table, and winked. “Looks like I win.”
He was expecting a punch to be thrown or the table knocked over, but instead he received a slow smile laced with hatred from Parker. Neither broke the stare, Ryder not moving a muscle as he held his ground. He rode two-thousand-pound bulls for the fun of it—he wasn’t about to let this jackass get one up on him.
“So the kid wants to join the big boys, huh?”
Ryder laughed, waving over a waitress for another drink. “It took me taking all your money for you to realize that? I think I’ve well and truly earned my spot at the table.”
Parker liked to taunt him, thought he was going to piss him off with a little name calling, but Ryder didn’t give a damn. They could call him whatever they wanted—he was here to play cards and the more shit they talked, the more he wanted to win.
He ignored Parker’s reaction and turned to the blond waitress standing beside him, winking as he took the beer from her. Damn. It was her, the hot girl from the rodeo, only tonight she wasn’t wearing her tiny cut-off denim shorts. Ryder turned around properly, suddenly a whole lot more interested in her than the table.
“Thanks,” he said, pushing a few bills from the pile in front of him toward her. “Fancy seeing you here, huh? I thought your friend had given me the wrong number.” He’d given up texting after she’d ignored him, so he’d tried calling her a couple times, too.
From the way her eyes were shining, he was guessing she was trying hard not to smile straight back at him. “Sorry, it’s been a busy, ah, day or so.”
He stood and held out his hand. “I’m Ryder, but if you’ve listened to the voice mail I left you, I’m guessing you already know that.”
“Chloe,” she replied, slipping her hand into his and letting him shake it.
Ryder didn’t let go, stroked his fingers across the back of her hand as he stared at her. “Pleased to meet you, Chloe.”
She raised her eyebrows, one side of her mouth kicking up into a smile that commanded all his attention. He loved the thrill of gambling, but nothing kept his attention like a beautiful woman, especially one wearing a tight white T-shirt and even tighter jeans. Although he wasn’t sure if her smile was from the amount of money he’d just tipped her or the fact that he was so obviously trying to impress her. He didn’t care what he was doing that was making her smile, so long as she didn’t stop.
“I take it you’re having a good night,” she s
aid, retrieving her hand and folding the bills in half, pushing them into her pocket.
“Maybe you’re my good-luck charm,” he said, turning around to see the expression on Parker’s face and realizing the table had gone quiet. But the silence didn’t make up for the look Parker was giving Chloe—he looked like a drooling dog, which pissed Ryder off.
Chloe laughed, oblivious to what was going on, hand closing over his shoulder and fingers playing across his shirt as she turned to leave. “Well, good luck, Ryder. Let me know if you want another beer.”
Ryder leaned into her touch, catching her gaze again. “How about we head out for a drink after your shift?”
Chloe looked away then back again, her tongue darting out to moisten lips he was already focused on. “I don’t finish for a while.”
He nodded at the table. “Me neither.”
Her smile crept back and he knew she was going to give in and say yes.
“Okay. I finish at eleven,” she said, reaching over for the empty bottles and giving him the perfect view of her ass. Her jeans were tight, hugging curves that dipped into long lean legs. “But just one drink, okay?”
Ryder winked as she turned to go. Something about Chloe was getting him all twisted in knots, and the sooner he got her alone, the better. She was the kind of challenge he lived for; hearing her say yes was all the sweeter given the times she’d said no.
“Maybe you could have a drink with me instead, sweetheart, huh? Whadda ya say?” Parker reached out and slapped Chloe on the ass, laughing his head off and reaching for her a second time.
Ryder jumped up and shoved him back, putting himself between Chloe and Parker.
“Easy,” Ryder said, glancing at Chloe to make sure she was okay. “You want to impress her? How about you play me again?”
Parker was getting drunker and drunker, which meant he was going to get lazy. Ryder had already taken most of his money, and now he wanted to make sure he bet him out of every last dollar.
“You think you can beat me again? How about we play for the girl?”
Parker’s high-pitched laugh made Ryder want to smack his head in, but he didn’t. His fists were bunched at his sides, anger pulsing through his veins, but he kept it in check and touched Chloe’s back to gently push her away. The sooner she was out of Parker’s sight, the better. He didn’t mind getting into a fight to protect a girl, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to initiate one with Parker if he could help it. Their bad blood ran deep, and it wasn’t just Parker he’d have to knock out if things turned bad.
Ryder glanced at Chloe again as she paused a short distance away. He should have been chasing her, not another game of cards, but she didn’t finish work for another couple of hours and he was high on winning. It was time to teach Parker a goddamn lesson.
“Kid?”
Chloe could wait. It was time to prove to all the assholes seated around him that no one beat him—not in the ring, not at the card table. Not ever. And anyone who talked to a woman like that deserved to be humiliated.
“Ready to play, or you sick of losing already?” Ryder asked, dragging his eyes away from Chloe and settling back into his chair. “You might need some more cash. Aren’t you out already?”
There were a few nervous chuckles around the table, then a series of scraping sounds as a few chairs were pushed out, a couple of the guys leaving before things got too heated.
“Sorry guys, I’m done,” one of the men said.
“Yeah, I’m out, too. Good luck.”
A few of them just shook their heads but stayed seated.
Ryder grinned “Let’s play.”
“Hey, pretty one,” Parker called out, banging his fist on the table and waving his arm. “New pack of cards and another whiskey. Now.”
Ryder was pissed about the way Parker had just spoken to Chloe, but called out for a drink, too, downing the whiskey in one swig when she brought it over, the liquor burning a fiery path down his throat and into his stomach. He could make it up to her later—once he’d won. It was time to win some big cash and send this idiot packing.
“Let’s do this.” Adrenaline pumped through his body, more toxic than a drug in his veins.
Parker broke the plastic and took the box out, sliding out the cards and starting to shuffle them.
“No,” Ryder said, motioning for Chloe not to leave and touching her wrist. “Let her shuffle and deal.”
Parker shrugged. “Know how to shuffle some cards, sweetheart?”
“Sure.” Her voice was soft as she glanced at Ryder, calming him like only a woman could. She didn’t seem to care about Parker, or if she did she was good at ignoring him. “How many do you want me to deal?”
“Five each, we’re playing straight,” Ryder told her, not taking his eyes off his rival. For all he knew Parker was trying to play him, had asked Chloe to shuffle as a distraction, and he wasn’t going to be duped. After he won this game, Chloe was his next conquest. He could already imagine her naked, tangled in his sheets, skin slick with sweat, but even she wasn’t going to take his mind off the task at hand now. “How about we get started with thirty grand.”
The other guys nodded, faces serious. There was serious money on the table right from the start now—no more joking around.
The cards were dealt and Ryder ran his fingers across them, breathing steady, not even looking at them straightaway. He forced all thoughts of Chloe from his mind and focused only on the game, on the cards that he had to play that would decide his fate. There were four of them playing, and he watched each man’s face, took his time to study them.
Ryder fought the urge to grin as he slowly lifted the corners of his cards up, relief hitting him like a ton of bricks. He’d been confident, but now he was starting to relax. The hand wasn’t a home run, but it wasn’t half bad either. It wasn’t about the desire to take another man’s money, for him it was all about the thrill of the game, it always was. Although tonight it was also about knocking Parker down a peg.
“I raise ten grand,” Ryder said, staring Parker straight in the eye, not letting anything else distract him. He blocked out everything else—the noise of the bar, the beautiful woman standing beside the table—his eyes on Parker’s.
“That all you got?” Parker asked.
“I don’t see you offering more.”
Parker nodded, thrumming his fingers across his own cards. But Ryder could see the sweat beading across the other man’s face, knew the bastard was panicking already. Still he sat there, though, not wanting to rush, wanting to draw the game out for as long as he could.
Parker pushed a wad of cash into the center of the table, alongside Ryder’s money. “Ten grand it is then.”
One of the others folded, which just left Tom. His face was blank. “Fifteen.”
Ryder had to fight not to grin. He loved this. There were three of them left and he knew he was going to smoke them. He watched, never taking his eyes from Parker as he discarded one card. Tom threw down two. Ryder didn’t blink as he pushed two of his own cards together and discarded them, pushing them facedown toward Chloe. Damn. If Parker had only needed to discard one … Ryder fought the urge to glance at Chloe—he could feel her watching him. Parker had been easier to read before, but now he wasn’t so sure.
“Two,” he confirmed, heart pounding like a jackhammer as she slid the cards across the table. He blew out a low breath, picked at the corner of the first one to see what he’d been dealt.
Fuck yes. It was the fourth ace. He glanced at the other card, taking no longer to look at that card than at the first one, before pushing his entire hand into one neat pile. Chloe was his good-luck charm, his hand was as good as unbeatable. He was about to win the lot, whatever the bet was.
“I think we need to up the stakes here, boys,” Ryder said, drumming his fingers against his glass. “Two hundred.”
Parker sniggered. “That all you got? I was thinking something more tangible.”
“Like?”
Parker leaned
over the table, his fat stomach stopping him from coming too close, cigarette hanging from between his lips. “How about the deed to that pretty little ranch of yours? Didn’t your granddaddy carve it up for you boys?”
Tom looked between them, eyebrows raised. “I’m out,” he said, throwing his cards down and pushing off. “Whatever the fuck you guys want to bet, go for it.”
Ryder didn’t even bother looking at Tom’s cards. He never shifted his stare. It was just the two of them now. The other guys were watching, waiting to see who was going to lose a ton of money, but Ryder couldn’t see anyone else except the asshole seated across from him. Even Chloe wasn’t distracting him now.
“What are you offering?” Ryder kept his voice calm when all he really wanted to do was slam his fist into the table. Or into Parker’s smarmy face. “How about the latest ranch you burgled? Or maybe your own.”
Parker laughed. “I’m in. My ranch against yours.”
Ryder was going to win, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind. Whatever the stakes, he was playing. Parker swindled locals out of property all the time, men who couldn’t afford to keep a roof over their families’ heads, which in Ryder’s books meant he needed to be knocked down a peg or two. And Ryder was just the man to do it.
He reached for his drink, took a sip while he thought about what he was about to do, swallowed away his nerves. His third of the ranch meant everything to him, and if his brothers found out that he’d even thought about gambling the property he’d just inherited … but he had four aces. It wasn’t unbeatable, but it was damn close to it.
“I’m in,” he replied, “so long as your ranch is on the table, too.” There was no chance he was going to lose, not after the run he’d had. Hell, not after the weekend he’d had. He’d win the game, take Parker’s ranch, and then call it a night. Satisfaction was sweet, and winning was beyond describable, a pure hit of adrenaline to the part of him that was insanely competitive. And he was about to take it all.
Ryder gave in and glanced at Chloe, saw her swallow, recognized the worried expression on her face as he turned his focus back to the game, downed the rest of his drink, and flicked his cards over faceup on the table. She had nothing to worry about—it was one of the best hands he’d ever been dealt, and he had her to thank for that.
