Chapter Twenty-Five

“DEE, WE gotta talk.” Dustin came out, ducking under Strawberry’s head, making the mare dance.

“Careful, Bubba!” Dalton was warmed up and ready to work. He loved being able to hitch up the horse trailer and run out to the arena, especially since Tank could help drive.

“Sorry. But I need you now.” Dustin looked mad.

“Okay.” He slid out of the saddle, one hand on the reins. “What’s up?”

Dustin held up his phone, where there was a picture of Tank, buried inside Dalton’s ass, in his bedroom. “What the fuck?”

Where had Dustin gotten that?

The flash. He narrowed his eyes, his mouth flattening. “Who?”

“You know who. I can’t prove it; it was anonymous, but….”

“How do you get an anonymous text?” He hadn’t even checked his phone today.

“Seriously, Dee?”

“Yes, seriously. Do you know how?”

“Luddite.” Dustin rolled his eyes. “That’s not the point. The point is who all else got this fucking photo.”

“Shit.” Tank hadn’t said anything, but then Rocket didn’t know Tank. “Has anyone texted?”

“Not yet. He wouldn’t dare send it to Deb. She’d kill him.”

She wasn’t going to have to. He could do that himself. He was going to go find that man and beat him to death.

He glanced around the ring, but only Tank was there, bellowing an old Eagles song as he worked on something with the trailer hitch.

“Don’t say anything to him. I’ll talk to him after the event.” First he was going to find Rocket and talk to him, pre-event. There was no doubt he was going to be here.

“Okay, but I don’t like it, Dee. This is… weirdly bold, even for him.”

“Yeah. It’s time for a come-to-Jesus meeting, Bubba. Hold my reins.”

“How do you know where he is?”

Dalton held up his phone and dialed, then heard the familiar tones of “Cowboys and Angels.” “Because he’s not smart enough to turn his goddamn sound off.”

Dustin took the reins from him. “Careful.”

“Uh-huh.” Time was through to be careful. He’d been careful, polite, even decent. Now he was done.

He headed over to the parked horse trailers, found Rocket standing there with a smart-assed expression on his face.

Dalton didn’t monologue. He didn’t fuss. He didn’t say a word.

He just walked over and knocked the living shit out of the evil fucker, slamming one fist into Rocket’s breadbasket before delivering an uppercut to his jaw.

Reeling back, Rocket clutched his belly. “Dalton!”

“You stay away from me.” He caught one cheek, his class ring making a fine slice in Rocket’s face. “You stay away from my people.” The next blow was defensive, blocking Rocket’s wild haymaker. “You don’t take one more picture of me.”

Fuck, this felt good.

Rocket stumbled to the side and went down to one knee. “Goddamn it, Dalton! If you weren’t such a fucking whore I wouldn’t have to go to such lengths.”

He kicked Rocket with all he had, right in the gut. “You get the fuck out of here, and you don’t come back, you sorry bastard, or I will make you pay and pay.”

Rocket climbed to his feet, wheezing, then spat blood off to one side. “You can’t kick me out. I paid my fee.”

“You want it back?” he snarled.

“No, I want to ride.” Those green eyes snapped at him, and he couldn’t believe he’d ever thought they were anything but ugly.

“You really want me to blackball your ass, do you?”

“I want you to admit you’re making a fucking mistake.” Rocket came at him, hands balled up.

“I’ve already done that. I slept with you.” He swept around Rocket, then grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved, rammed the motherfucker into the nearest trailer.

Rocket gagged, landing on his hands and knees. “Dal—”

“Dalton?” Tank’s voice shocked the hell out of him.

“This got nothin’ to do with you, Tank. Go on.”

Tank moved up behind him but didn’t crowd him. “You sure you’re all right?”

“Right as rain.” His lip curled, and he stepped back. “Get up and go.”

“I’ll—”

“You’ll what? You want to send pictures, you send ’em. I ain’t ashamed. You want to die here like the piece of shit you are? I can fucking arrange that. This is my rodeo. My fucking name is on the sign. Not yours.”

Rocket looked at him, face twisted with rage, then at Tank, who Dalton couldn’t see. “I’ll go, but this isn’t over.”

Tank snorted. “Oh, I think it is, son. You’re the one all beat up. Dalton’s had his say.”

“You have thirty seconds before I lose my temper.” Dalton pursed his lips at the sight of his twin and sister turning the corner. Shitheads. They never would leave good enough alone. “And I see Dustin and Deb coming, and she’s armed. You’d best run.”

Rocket ran. Figured that the bastard was more afraid of Deb than anyone.

“You okay?” Tank asked quietly.

“Prolly bruised my knuckles.” He felt pretty fucking good, if he was honest. “We had a couple things to discuss.”

“Looks like you got it said.”

“Looks like.” He’d had enough, hadn’t he? Yessir.

“Good deal. We gonna talk on it later?”

“Yeah. I think we ought.” Things were going to have to be out in the open.

“Okay. We got to go warm up now, though.” Tank caught him when he would have walked on by, reeling him in for a short kiss. It liked to blister him down to the ground.

He felt ten feet tall and as invincible as the mountains in Colorado he loved so much.

Finally he had dealt with this shit. Finally.

Rocket had better run. He turned to his brother and sister. “Scrub Rocket from the roster.”

“Done and done.”

“You deal with this shit, Dalton? For good.”

“For good, Sister.”

“Well, thank the Lord.” She glanced at Tank, who shrugged.

“He comes back, I’ll hurt him,” Tank said.

“He comes back, make sure no one finds the body, man.” Deb was spitting fire.

“You got it.”

His three protectors nodded to each other as if that was that.

“I took care of it. He’s banned for life.”

Dustin lit up. “Fucking A.”

“Pops will ask,” Deb warned.

“I’m ready to tell him. Did you get the text?”

She shook her head. “I think only Bubba did. I don’t want to see it.”

“What text?” Tank frowned over.

“Rocket texted Bubba a picture of us having sex. From the night of the party.” He needed to be honest. Tank was involved here too.

Tank turned to look in the direction Rocket had disappeared. “That boy had better hope I never see his skanky ass again.” That was Tank’s bullfighter voice. He meant business.

“Fair enough. Time to get to work. Leave the trash behind.” They had more important shit to do.

“Let’s go.” Tank pressed his hand hard for a moment, then headed back to the arena.

Better.

Time to get to work and let the door slam on the past.