Asher

by Piper Davenport

  It wasn’t my smoothest avoidance, but it would have to do. Thankfully, we ran into Wyatt, and Jake’s scrutiny transferred to him.

  “Hey, Wy, where’s our guy?” I asked.

  He pointed down the row. “Third stall from the back. I just got him saddled and ready for you two. Even walked him and checked the cinch. You’re good to go.”

  “Great. Any idea where we are in the lineup?”

  “Fifth. Right after Brandy and Josie, so you better hurry.” He frowned. “They’re riding Dusty.”

  “He’s here?” I asked, scanning the row until my gaze fell on my old horse. I ran to his stall, and he hung his head over, whinnying when he saw me. He looked great, just as I remembered him, and I was relieved to know Brandy had been taking good care of him. Scratching behind his ears, I kissed his forehead and told him how much I’d missed him and how sorry I was that I’d left him behind when I’d moved.

  “Who’s this?” Asher asked.

  I introduced the two of them, and Asher fed Dusty a peppermint and patted him down. Dusty whinnied his approval of my boyfriend. Then, because we had a race to win, I let Addison drag me away to get Bucky. With Bucky in tow, the four of us walked to the fence to watch the other racers.

  “Why is he getting on top of the barrel?” Asher asked as we watched the first Buddy Barrel Race.

  “You’ll see.” I squeezed his hand.

  The gate opened and the rider—a thirty-something-year-old man I recognized as one of the clerks at Safeway—raced in. As he swung around the barrel, the guy standing on top of it jumped on behind him. Or, at least, he tried. The jumper practically strangled the rider before hitting the saddle awkwardly and racking himself. The crowd groaned as he grabbed his crotch and slid off the horse. The rider came back around to try and pick him up, but the jumper was done for. He waved him on and hobbled for the gate.

  “That’s what you’re doing?” Jake asked.

  “Yeah, except we’re better at it,” Addison replied.

  And our horse bucks and bolts. Only I didn’t say it out loud. They’d see Bucky in action soon enough.

  Asher’s gaze held way too much concern, so I kissed him and assured him, “We’ll be fine. We totally got this.”

  “Totes,” Addison added.

  Neither of the guys looked convinced, but the next pair managed to cross the finish line, so at least now they knew it was possible. The jumper had struggled with footing at the barrel, though, so their time wasn’t that great.

  The third jumper made it onto the horse, but his rider took off before he was situated, dumping the jumper in the dirt. The guy grabbed at his back, struggling to get up as the paramedics ran out to help him.

  I felt for the guy’s no doubt bruised bottom and banged up ego, and wondered if I’d be joining him in the dirt soon. Addison and I were counting on Bucky to follow the same pattern he’d followed every time we practiced: three bucks then bolt. But what if something changed? What if he only bucked once? What if he bucked all the way to the gate? What if he bolted while I was jumping on? Before I could freak out too much about the possibilities, it was almost our turn.

  Addison mounted while Brandy and Josey did their run. They crossed the finish line in a little over sixteen seconds, which was a great time. Addison and I had done better in practice, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous as I jogged out and climbed up on the barrel.

  The next thing I knew, Addison was racing toward me. I crouched low and put my hands out to steady myself. She started the turn and Bucky’s back legs flicked up in his first kick. The crowd gasped, and I couldn’t help but smile. They hadn’t seen anything yet.

  It was now or never. I grabbed the horn and jumped, squeezing Bucky’s belly with my legs as he bucked the second time. The saddle shifted, feeling a little crooked, and I tried to straighten Addison and hold on at the same time.

  “Something’s wrong with the saddle. It’s slipping!” Addison shouted.

  “I know.”

  “Hold on.”

  I understood that her order was somewhat rhetorical, but I still had to fight the urge to yell a snarky response or point out that I only had the tail available to me should she and the saddle slip off.

  The third buck came, then it was like a bee stung him. Bucky bolted for the gate while I held on to Addison for dear life. For both of our dear lives. The people waiting outside the arena to slow the horses after they crossed the finish line stepped in front of us and started waving. Addison pulled on Bucky’s reins, begging him to stop as I tried to keep us from toppling over.

  Jake and Asher both lunged for Bucky, and the two of them finally reined him in. The moment our forward motion came to a halt, the saddle slowly slid off, taking both Addison and me with it. It was quite possibly the most gracefully I’d ever fallen off a horse.

  We hit the ground, realized we were okay, and started giggling uncontrollably.

  Bucky looked back at us like we were nuts, which was probably accurate.

  The saddle had tipped on its side, and Jake grabbed the cinch and held it up. It had been split in two.

  I stared at the girth, not wanting to believe my eyes. Girths didn’t just split, and there didn’t appear to be much fraying. If I had to guess, I’d say someone had cut the side and let it tear. Wyatt said he’d saddled Bucky himself and assured us the horse was ready to go...

  Wyatt.

  The scowl on Jake’s face told me he’d reached the same conclusion.

  * * *

  Addison

  Jake dropped the girth with a scowl and stormed off toward the stalls. I pushed myself up and rushed after him, Dylan and Asher hot on our heels. We arrived to find Wyatt on his stomach, his face in the dirt, and Jake’s knee in his back as he zip-tied Wyatt’s hands together.

  “What are you doing?” I squeaked.

  Jake yanked Wyatt up and said, “I’m vanquishing the fuckin’ dragon, Addison.”

  “Jake, I’m sure there’s an explanation,” Dylan said, easing forward. “I’ve known Wyatt forever and he’d never...” She scooted around the two until she was looking in Wyatt’s face. “Would you, Wy?”

  Wyatt didn’t answer. I couldn’t see his expression, but whatever Dylan saw tensed her up. She squeezed her hands into fists. “You bastard! You could have killed Addie.” She lurched for him, but Asher intercepted her.

  “Whoa there. Simmer down, sweetheart. Jake’s got it under control. We’ll deal with this,” he said, hugging her as he practically dragged her away from Wyatt.

  Dylan wouldn’t give up. “I trusted you. You were my friend, and you...” Her eyes were glassy with unshed tears. The fight went out of her, and Asher picked her up and carried her to a bale of hay by the entrance. He sat, positioning her on his lap, and started talking to her.

  “What are you gonna do with him?” I asked Jake.

  “I’m gonna handle it.”

  Before I could ask what that entailed, a man ran into the barn, looking around frantically. “Dylan James and Addison Allen? You two won the Buddy Barrel Race. They’re waiting for you to grab your prizes.”

  “You go,” Asher said, easing Dylan off his lap as he stood. “Jake and I’ll take care of the cowboy.”

  I really didn’t want to leave, but the way Dylan was glaring at Wyatt told me I needed to get her out of there. I grabbed her hand and we headed to the booth for our prize.

  “And here they are now,” the announcer said as we headed toward his booth. “Folks, these little ladies have officially blasted through the all-time fastest record by over two seconds.”

  The crowd went wild as we were handed our prize. A plastic gold and silver trophy with two riders atop a horse.

  Dylan and I glanced at one another and I forced myself not to giggle. Holy cow, it looked as though the riders were humping each other.

  “Ladies, take a bow,” the announcer instructed.

  As we bowed, all I could think about was the fact I couldn’t care less about the pomp and ci
rcumstance. The announcer said something about all the winners riding some train on Monday, but I had no idea what he was talking about and couldn’t focus. My boyfriend was currently interrogating the man who’d tried to kill us, so as soon as we could escape, Dylan and I hurried back to the stalls.

  We arrived to find Wyatt sitting on a bale of hay, his face a little bloody (I hoped from the original confrontation and not from Jake hitting him while his hands were bound), and his expression was tortured as he met my eyes, then Dylan’s. “I’m sorry.”

  Dylan just stared at him, shaking her head.

  My heart raced at the thought that this man...the man I thought was my friend...would try to hurt me. Or Dylan. “I don’t understand.”

  “If you’d just have—” Wyatt started

  “If they would have what?” Jake snapped.

  I could tell Jake was ready to kill Wyatt, so I nodded toward Dylan, who no longer looked like she was about to rip his throat out.

  “I got it,” she said, her expression scarily calm.

  “And I got her,” Asher added.

  Confident the two of them would be able to get the full story without killing Wyatt, I pulled Jake away for some privacy. He dragged his hands through his hair and paced the area behind the barn.

  I crossed my arms in an effort not to interrupt his processing time. “I’m okay, honey.”

  “He could have killed you.”

  I nodded. “I know.”

  I mean, what could I say? He was right. Wyatt could have really hurt us or Bucky. It was a shitty thing to do and, had Dylan and I not been expert riders, this whole thing could have gone much, much worse.

  Jake reached out his arm and I went happily into his embrace. I settled my cheek against his chest and slid my hands up his back, squeezing gently.

  “You could have been killed,” he whispered again.

  “I know, baby. I’m okay.”

  He ran his fingers through my hair. “Do you have any idea how much I want to kill him?”

  “Yes.”

  “What a weasel.” Jake let out a rather explicit curse. “I’m taking that asshole down.”

  “Can we find out why he did it first?”

  Jake stiffened. “I don’t give a rat’s ass about the why, Addison. I’ll call the local department and they’ll come to collect him. I’m gonna make sure his ass is charged with attempted murder, and that he does the time for it.”

  I kept my arms around him, but leaned back so I could meet his eyes. “We weren’t hurt, honey, and if Wyatt wanted to, he could say the girth frayed. It would be hard proving he had a nefarious purpose.”

  “He confessed.”

  “He confessed to the scary cop boyfriend and lawyer brother of one of the ‘victims.’ He could say he was coerced or bullied.”

  Jake scowled. “He does, I’ll—”

  “You’ll what, honey? Beat the shit out of him?” He let out a frustrated breath and I burrowed closer to him again. “We’ll figure out exactly what’s going on and then we can make an educated decision.”

  “I hate this.”

  “I get it.” I leaned back again. “Would now be a bad time to mention that Dylan and I kind of had the whole thing under control?”

  “Yeah, baby, now would be a really bad time.” He shook his head. “But you did look amazing...even on the back of a bucking horse.”

  “Really?”

  He gave me a reluctant smile. “I bet you’re incredible on those fancy jumping horses, huh?”

  I giggled. “I do okay. It’s been a while, but I loved competing.”

  “I guess it wouldn’t matter how badly you did in competition.”

  “Oh, really? How come?”

  “’Cause you’re freakin’ sexy in the outfit.”

  I laughed. “You’re ridiculous. But I love you.”

  His body finally relaxed and he leaned down to kiss me. “Love you too, Addie.”

  After a few minutes of him holding me, I smiled. “I’m very proud of you.”

  “Yeah? Why?”

  “Because you only freaked out a little bit and let me talk you down off the ledge.”

  He patted his chest. “Believe me, I was freakin’ out a hell of a lot more in here.”

  “I get it, but you controlled it.” I shrugged. “So I’m proud of you.”

  “’Preciate it, baby.” He chuckled, leaning down to kiss me. “Now, let’s go deal with the dipshit who tried to kill my woman.”

  His body went back to its locked and loaded state. I sighed.

  He took my hand and we headed back, but Asher met us at the door.

  “Someone must have called the cops. They’re here and they’re taking Wyatt in.”

  Dylan

  “IT’S A NICE dream, but it doesn’t exactly work like that here,” I told Jake before stuffing the remainder of a tasty Cajun wrap into my mouth.

  After Lakeview’s finest carted Wyatt off, we’d left the fairgrounds in search of decent food. I’d taken the crew to the Eagle’s Nest—a bar known for its friendly staff, good food, strong drinks, and a giant stuffed elk head hanging from the wall. There were no eagles or nest to be found, so you’d think they’d name the place Elk’s Head, or something else at least moderately applicable, but that’s just not the way the town worked. The establishment names made almost as much sense as the town’s justice system. Since the moment we’d sat down, Jake had been trying to reassure me that Wyatt would see justice for what he’d done. Jake was a good cop, and he didn’t understand how we did things here.

  “Charges like attempted assault don’t disappear when you cross the town’s border, Dylan,” Jake replied. “I’ll contact the local police chief Tuesday and—”

  “I bet they didn’t even take him in,” I said. “Probably didn’t get out of the parking lot before they released him.”

  “What makes you say that?” Asher asked, watching me. His hand and leg kept conveniently bumping against mine like he needed to reassure himself that I was there and okay.

  “My dad has been picked up for drinking and driving, drunk and disorderly, public intoxication...just about every alcohol-related charge in the book, and he’s never been charged.”

  Jake frowned. “I’m sure that’s wrong. There has to be something else going on.”

  “Oh, there is. He’s related to most of the police force. The two cops who picked up Wyatt today...the redhead was my second cousin twice removed, Rex, and the brunette was my third cousin, Eric. Dad’s even related to the DA, and they’re close...as in family barbecues close.”

  “Do you really think Wyatt cut the cinch?” Addison asked, playing with her straw.

  Jake and I both nodded.

  “Is this somehow related to your dad stealing the jewelry?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know how it could be.”

  “But it could,” Asher interjected. “Dylan’s dad warned her to get out of town the night we ran into him.”

  “He did?” Addison asked, watching me. “What did he say?”

  “Something lame and ominous like ‘get out of this town before you find out what’s really going on.’ I’m sure he’s just trying to throw us off his scent.”

  “I don’t know,” Asher said. “He seemed legitimately worried about you. Maybe something bigger is going on here.”

  I wanted to argue, but couldn’t shake the feeling he was right. Addison obviously couldn’t either, because she pulled a notepad and pen out of her purse, ready to get to work. “Okay, so far we know Dylan’s dad is stealing the jewelry, Brandy put some of it back for some reason, and Wyatt tried to...uh...”—she looked at Jake—“do whatever Wyatt tried to do.”

  I got, and appreciated, that Addison didn’t want to make any references to attempts on killing us in front of her still-pissed boyfriend and my suddenly clingy one.

  “Now how is it connected?” Asher asked.

  “No clue, but I feel like we should go back to the nursing home. That’s where this who
le thing started, and we never did interview any of the nurses.”

  * * *

  I knew Brandy wouldn’t be working since we’d just kicked her butt in the Buddy Barrel Race, but she wasn’t the nurse I wanted to talk to anyway. Asher and Jake hung back while Addison and I approached the nurses’ station and asked to speak to Helen, the pill-slingin’ nurse my grandmother referred to as a Nazi.

  “Helen’s not in,” Judy, the nurse on duty told us. “She doesn’t work here for the nursing home. She’s a private consultant who serves the board of directors.”

  “She’s not a nurse here?” I asked.

  Judy shook her head. “Nope. She just evaluates the clients and makes sure they’re comfortable and that their needs are being met.”

  “She doesn’t give out medicine?” I asked.

  “Nope.” Judy smiled.

  I had no clue what to say. I’d seen Helen give both Grandma and Ms. Long pills—pills that Grandma swore were poison—and now Ms. Long was dead. No, it had to be a coincidence. Maybe Judy was new and didn’t fully understand Helen’s role.

  “Is there anything else I can help you with?” Judy asked, clearly annoyed by my repeated questions and refusal to go away and let her get back to playing with her phone.

  “No, thanks. I think we’re just gonna step in and see my grandmother.”

  Dad was in with her. He looked up when we came in. “Hey, princess.”

  I hated that nickname. I’d hated it growing up, and I hated it even more now that I knew my dad was stealing from old folks. Including his mother. Refusing to look at him, I greeted Grandma instead.

  “That was a good ride today, kid,” Dad said to my back. “But you got lucky. You need to leave town and forget about this like I said.”

  “Why?” Asher asked.

  “And what do you know about the girth?” Jake added. “Were you a part of that?”

  Dad held up his hands. “I saw what happened is all. Dylan knows town folk don’t like people from the city snooping around in our business.”

  “She’s your daughter,” Asher growled. “You’re really not going to tell us what’s going on and keep her safe?”

  Dad stood and shrugged. “Less she knows, the safer she’ll be. That goes for the rest of you, too.” He stumbled over to me. “Why don’t you come outside and talk to me, princess?”