Chapter 31

When Shawnee stepped into the trailer, she found Mariah slumped on the couch, staring at her knees. From the dazed look on her face, the full implications of what could have happened had finally smacked her upside the head.

“Is my dad okay?” she asked in a small voice, sounding younger than her years for the first time.

“His hand is probably broken,” Shawnee said bluntly. “Along with Hank’s jaw. Was it worth it?”

“I didn’t know!” Mariah burst out.

“That your dad would go ballistic? Bullshit.”

The momentary flash of fire died and Mariah ducked her head. “He’s so overprotective,” she muttered.

“For good reason, obviously.” Shawnee plopped down on one of the banquette seats, her legs folding up camp for the night. “Seriously, Mariah? Hank?”

“He’s sweet,” she said defensively. “Sort of goofy, but…he listened to me and my crazy dreams. And he’s been places—really big rodeos, and hanging out with Joe at the National Finals. He made me feel like I could be there, too. At first, we just hung out. Friends, you know? I don’t really know anyone else down here except you and Analise, and you’re both—”

Boring? Weird? Grown-ups?

“He never told me…” The beginnings of anger were sketched in the pleat between Mariah’s eyebrows. “Why didn’t he tell me it was illegal?”

“Because he’s Hank, and using his brain has never been one of his talents.”

“But he could have gone to jail!”

Shawnee didn’t bother to point out that it wasn’t necessarily past tense. If the cops decided to take a closer look, or if Tyrell or his wife insisted on pressing charges…

But the odds were low, in Shawnee’s estimation. The sad fact was, the Swifts couldn’t afford to raise a fuss. In a situation like this, the victim stood to suffer as much or more as the accused. Especially a girl who looked like Mariah. The world would be quick to blame her—attack her—regardless of the circumstances.

Hank had a lot of friends who were as bone-headed as he was, and enough of a name in rodeo for his arrest to reverberate across the country, laying waste to the career Mariah hadn’t even started. Not to mention Tyrell. Breaking into the upper ranks as a rodeo announcer was a bitch for anyone. There wasn’t much room at the top—and all of those golden microphones were held by white men. Tyrell had the voice, the talent, the brains, but he had no room for error. Something like this could bury him.

It wasn’t just unfair—it sucked balls. Goddamn Hank. That bastard had a lot to answer for.

Mariah took a deep, shuddering breath. “I can’t believe they would send him to prison. If I told them—”

“It wouldn’t matter. Until you turn seventeen, your opinion is irrelevant.”

Mariah’s face twisted with disgust. “Like I’m going to be so much smarter in six weeks.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Look how much you’ve learned in just one night.”

Mariah dropped her face into her hands. “If he gets in trouble, everyone will hate me.”

Yep. And Hank’s life as he knew it would be finished. He was immature, thoughtless, and occasionally downright obnoxious, but the thought of him in prison for two years, branded as a pervert for life, made Shawnee ill. The mandatory sentence made no distinction between him and creepy uncles who liked to slip their hands up little girls’ dresses.

But if he’d truly taken advantage of Mariah…

“Have you been drinking?” Shawnee asked abruptly.

Mariah’s head snapped up. “What?”

“Did Hank give you a beer, a shot, anything?”

“No! He didn’t even come to the concert. I met him outside and we snuck back here. We didn’t even grab a Coke.”

Shawnee breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t really think Hank would slip anything into a girl’s drink and Mariah didn’t smell like alcohol or act drugged, but it was good to have the possibility off the table. “Whose bright idea was the truck?”

“Mine.” Mariah made a face. “Cole was over here with you, and everybody else was gone. We planned to slip out before Daddy came back from dinner, but he was early.”

“How did he catch you?”

Mariah’s pout deepened. “The window was open a crack. On the side toward Cole’s rig, where everybody hangs out under the awning.”

Oh dear Lord. Shawnee cringed, imagining what Tyrell might have overheard.

Mariah rolled her eyes and huffed. “It wasn’t like that. Hank said we couldn’t have sex because I’m too young. I told him I’m not a virgin. I had a boyfriend for, like, three years. But he still said no. We were just fooling around.”

Shawnee heaved a sigh that drained the last of her energy. “Look, you want to show everyone how grown up you are? Tell your dad what you just told me—maybe minus the part about not being a virgin—and beg his forgiveness. Then buck up and take whatever punishment he dishes out.”

Mariah’s face went mulish. She pushed out her bottom lip—then sucked it back in and squared her shoulders. “Okay.”

“Awesome.” Shawnee massaged the ache in her forehead. “Let’s get some sleep.”

“What about Hank?”

Shawnee paused in the act of prying her heavier than usual ass off the seat. “You can’t go near him.”

Mariah grimaced, but nodded. “Will you at least tell me what the doctor says?”

“I can do that.” Shawnee checked her phone, but there were no texts or missed calls. “They’ve barely had time to get to a hospital, and God knows how long the lines are at an ER in El Paso on a Saturday night. We won’t know anything until morning.”

And it wouldn’t hurt Mariah to stew for a while. She damn sure wouldn’t be the only one. Shawnee hauled herself up and toward her bed. “You can have the couch. And if you decide to get all weepy, put a pillow over your head. I don’t want to hear it.”

* * *

When Shawnee crawled out of her trailer the next morning, the clean-up crew was just beginning to work their way around the grounds, picking up cracked plastic beer cups and crumpled rodeo programs. Shawnee fed her horses, then kicked aside a broken string of red Mardi Gras beads as she shuffled to the office. She stopped in the open doorway, staring dumbly at a stranger in plain boy-cut jeans, a white sleeveless blouse, and red canvas Keds. Her face was scrubbed clean and a pair of delicate silver crosses swung from her ears, her hair pulled into a neat ponytail at the nape of her neck.

But she spoke in Analise’s voice. “Concussion. Three loose teeth. Minor fracture of his jaw. He’s probably having it wired up right about now.”

Shawnee frowned. “You left him there alone?”

“No. His sister showed up at five o’clock this morning. Apparently Hank’s brain came unscrambled enough to figure out he might be in deep shit, and he called her for help. When she showed up, we cut and ran.” Analise made wide, scared eyes. “Cruz said he’s happy to step in front of Master Assassin, but no way he was gettin’ between that woman and Hank.”

“Wise choice,” Shawnee said. Her friend and former roommate was no one you wanted to mess with when she was on a tear. “So…you and Cruz?”

“He’s a very centered person. I like his company.”

The answer was delivered with such a dignified air, Shawnee couldn’t even work up a smart-ass remark. Analise went back to coiling and stowing computer and printer cords.

Shawnee squeezed her eyes shut for a count of five, then opened them again, but the view didn’t change. “Who are you supposed to be?”

Analise straightened and looked down at herself. “These are my emergency normal clothes. In case I have to, you know, talk to cops or something. I can fake it for a while.”

Shawnee shook her head. “Well, knock it off. You’re freakin’ me out.”

Analise smiled angelically and continued on about her work. “Cole said if he didn’t see you first, text him when you’re up.”

Shawnee did and was instructed to come to the announcer’s stand. Cole was waiting for her at the bottom of the steps. He looked like the Cole she’d thought she knew, what seemed like years ago, stiff through the shoulders and tight around the mouth. But he softened when he saw her.

“I need backup,” he said, apologetic.

She pinched his butt. “I’ll watch your backside any day, cowboy.”

He smiled, ever so slightly, and dropped a quick kiss on her forehead. Then he turned to trudge up the stairs. As they stepped through the door, Tyrell latched a hard-sided equipment case, then looked up, haggard and hollow-eyed.

“How’s Mariah?” he asked, a complicated mixture of concern and anger playing across his handsome face.

“Embarrassed,” Shawnee said. “Mad. Sorry, even if she doesn’t sound like she means it. Might help if you didn’t look like you could chew glass.”

“How am I supposed to look? She lied to me!” Tyrell slammed bunched fists against his thighs, then winced and shook his swollen hand as he gazed out the open front of the crow’s nest. “I have to take her home.”

“Okay,” Cole said.

“We can fly out today, then I’ll drive down to meet you at the next rodeo.” Tyrell flicked him a glance. “I need a day or two at home, but then I’ll miss the timed event slack on Wednesday.”

“We’ll manage,” Cole said.

“Ace can handle it easy enough.” Tyrell stared back across the arena, where the flags above the grandstand hung limp in the breathless morning air. “I understand if you want to replace me at the rest of the rodeos.”

“No,” Cole said.

Tyrell’s head jerked around, his dark eyes wary. “We could have caused serious trouble. If rumor gets around to the committee that the cops were here—”

“You’re not the first. Won’t be the last.”

Tyrell flexed his bruised knuckles. “When will Hank be able to work?”

“Don’t know yet. At the very least he’ll have to pass the concussion protocol before we’ll let him in the arena.”

Tyrell nodded slowly. Then he blew out a long, thin stream of air. “And then I guess we’ll see.”

“You’re not pressing charges?” Shawnee asked.

Tyrell’s mouth tightened. “We all know how ugly it would get. Especially for Mariah.”

Just like they all knew Hank didn’t deserve to walk away, free and clear. Shawnee glanced at Cole. His eyes were bleak, his jaw clenched, as if he was in physical pain. She had a pretty good idea why, and wished there was some way she could make it hurt a little less.

But when had she ever been the kind to kiss anything better?

Tyrell looked at Shawnee and forced a sliver of a smile. “Thank you for last night. You were right…we needed a time-out. But I still have no idea what to say.”

“Try ‘I love you no matter what, but I swear to God, girl, if you don’t start applyin’ some common sense I might have to wring your neck.’” Shawnee hitched a shoulder at Tyrell’s expression. “Worked for my granddaddy.”

This time Tyrell’s smile was a shade closer to normal. “I’ll give it a try. She’s still in your trailer?”

“I told her she was under house arrest until you came to get her.”

Tyrell heaved a sigh so deep it sounded like it might turn him inside out, then shuffled out the door. Cole slumped onto one of the wooden stools, making it creak dangerously.

“So Hank just keeps on skatin’ by?” Shawnee asked.

Cole lifted his gaze to hers. She studied his face for a long moment—the grooves around his mouth that hadn’t been there a day earlier, the emptiness in his eyes.

“That’s what I thought,” she said softly.

She ran a hand down his arm and squeezed his fingers. Then she left him to come to grips with the only decision he could possibly make. At the bottom of the announcer’s stand steps, she cut around the front of the truck backed up to the loading chute and collided with Ace as he jumped down from the cab. He had his battered duffel slung over one shoulder. A silver Lincoln pickup idled in the road, Cordelia at the wheel.

“Where are you off to?” Shawnee asked, more out of habit than any particular interest.

“Back to Texas,” Ace declared. “My shoulder’s almost good as new and Cordelia…well, she’s quite a woman.”

Shawnee gaped at him. “Didn’t you hear what happened last night?”

“Yeah.” He shook his head with a rueful grin. “Boys and girls. Always gonna be trouble.”

“Tyrell is taking his daughter home. He won’t be back in time to announce the slack. Cole is counting on you to cover for him.”

Ace shrugged. “He’ll work it out.”

Don’t do it. Don’t even go there. You know how he gets…

But today she didn’t have it in her to turn the other cheek.

“That’s it? You mooch off of us for three weeks, then walk away when we need you?” Her voice had climbed to an embarrassing octave. She clenched her teeth and dragged it back down again. “Why am I even surprised? Like you’ve ever cared what anyone else needed.”

His silver eyes glinted. Danger! Danger! “And you’ve got so much room to talk.”

“Me? What have I ever—”

“You came out of that cancer thing just fine.” He thumped a fist to his chest. “I lost everything.”

“You threw it away!”

“I wouldn’t have had to if you hadn’t been such a baby.” His lip curled in disgust. “Why should I sit around the hospital? Wasn’t a damn thing I could do. But if I had the nerve to go to a roping, your mama pitched a fit.”

“You didn’t just go to a roping,” Shawnee shot back. “You took off to California for over a month and left her to deal with everything.”

“She had her parents. And you always liked your granddaddy better anyway. I couldn’t take all the wailin’ and moanin’ anymore. So, yeah. I left. And when I tried to come back, you forced your mama to choose.” He took a step toward her, his voice low and vicious. “You drove her over the edge. Now she’s a basket case and the rest is all gone, thanks to you.”

Shawnee staggered back a step, his hatred a visceral blow. She should have just kept her mouth shut. She knew better. But she was his daughter. How could he—

“Get out.” Cole’s voice sounded behind her, his words dense with threat. “Don’t you ever come near her again.”

“You can’t tell me what—”

Cole took one heavy step down the stairs, fists like sledgehammers at his sides.

Ace hitched his duffel higher on his shoulder and backed away with one last venomous sneer. “You can have the fat bitch. I’ll be happy to say I told you so when she wrecks your life too.”

He swung around and strode to Cordelia’s pickup. As they drove away, he slung an arm along the back of the seat and smiled at the woman as if his conversation with Shawnee was already forgotten. Cole’s hands closed on her shoulders and turned her, gathering her tight against him.

Ace actually hated her. And she couldn’t stop shaking.

“Do you need your meds?” Cole murmured, one palm stroking her back while the other hand cradled her head, pressing it into his shoulder.

She gathered her shattered thoughts and pieced together enough to take stock. Her heart was thudding, but her chest didn’t feel like an alien creature was tearing her rib cage open from the inside. And her breath was choppy, broken by something perilously close to sobs, but she wasn’t hyperventilating. She just needed a minute to regroup. To let Cole’s warm bulk absorb the blood from the wounds inflicted by Ace’s words.

All the more lethal because they were true.