CHAPTER ONE
“Jessa! Jessa! Jessa!” The crowd cheered.
“Hey! How y’all doing tonight?” She received whistles, claps and screams in response. Pushing back her signature rhinestone cowgirl hat, she took a seat on the stool under the spotlight and positioned her guitar.
“I love you, Jessa!”
“I love you too!” She looked out into the ocean of smiling faces and her heart did a triple loop like always. Being on stage never got old—tiring, yes, but never old.
Thrumming her fingers down the strings of her 12-String Acoustic, the crowd roared, vibrating the stage. A teenager in the front row jumped up and down, swiping at her streaming tears, then swaying back and forth as if she might faint. Several fans stretched their arms out, trying to touch Jessa, but beefy security blocked their attempts.
“Who’s ready for a slow tune? You might all know this next one as my latest number one hit, but how many of you knew this is a tribute to all those rough and tough, good-looking fellows known as cowboys? Who’s gonna help me sing Cowboys Forgive?”
More screams. More swaying. The roof on the fairgrounds stadium rocked.
“He stole my heart back in the day and gave it away…” The crowd sung along to the popular tune.
Finishing the last set and waving goodbye to the applauding crowd, Jessa Garvey slipped off the stage and handed her guitar to her manager, Wade Comer, who stood just out of sight behind the red curtain. Her bodyguard, Bruno, stepped from the shadows and crossed his arms over his chest, showing off thick arms in his black T-shirt. She’d hired him, or rather, Wade had, last year when a fan had snuck past security and made it into her dressing room. Jessa wouldn’t have minded, but the man had been stark naked with her name tattooed across his chest. He’d asked her to marry him just as security had rushed in, taking the nudist down to the floor in a windstorm of limbs and…well, other unmentionables. She still wasn’t quite used to having Bruno following her everywhere, always watching. He didn’t talk much and she could count on one hand how many words he’d said to her since he was employed. Wade believed Bruno’s silence made him better at his job. He’d worked in Secret Service before he took the position with her, but she wished he’d left his uptight attitude back at the White House.
Her cowgirl boots clicked on the worn planks of the wood flooring as she headed the opposite direction to the back of the building where a car waited for her. Her boots were certainly made for walking…at least for a break that was well-earned. She’d given this careful consideration and realized she wasn’t leaving the Wyoming fairgrounds until she saw one cowboy on the back of a bull. On the road eleven months out of the year, she missed seeing worn Wranglers and dusty boots.
“Where are you headed?” Wade bellowed, following close behind her. The tone of his voice didn’t go unnoticed. After several years together, his gruff attitude didn’t bother her as much as it had at first. Most of the time she brushed him off or stuck earphones in to sound him out. In his defense, he was the reason why she’d made it famous—also the reason why she’d been on the road non-stop for five years. He’d found her singing in a backwoods bar in Texas when she was only twenty-five and living off beans and rice. A year after signing him on, her life did a complete tailspin. Before she realized it, everybody knew her name and she couldn’t go anywhere without fans asking for her autograph.
Success came with sacrifice.
She’d dedicated herself to her fans.
But she was growing tired.
Last month at a venue in Chicago, she’d lost her voice and the doctor had prescribed rest. She’d relaxed a few days, but she’d had places to be, music to sing. There was always somewhere that required her presence. She’d lost count of how many different venues she’d sung at in the past year. Life was blurring.
It was time for a break. Not one night. Not one week. A vacation to recharge her internal battery. So, after going around and around with Wade, they’d compromised. She would finish the month’s scheduled concerts, and then she would be free, so to speak.
Two weeks away from the studio, the stage, and the public eye sounded like paradise. Her vocal chords would certainly thank her. She could catch up on writing her music. Sleep late. Eat ice cream.
“Are you going to answer me?” Wade sighed.
“I’m going out to watch the rodeo.”
Just as she’d suspected, he’d have something to say. “You can’t go out there alone. You’ll have everybody and their brother on your tail. Take Bruno with you at least.”
She glanced at her bodyguard who was five feet behind them. His brawny, bulldozer-like physique could part any crowd. “You don’t think being followed around by Hulk’s twin might grab some attention?”
“You’re paying him for a reason. Drawing attention to him means people won’t be as likely to mess with you.”
Jessa didn’t want to be followed around by her manager or bodyguard. She understood there were times she needed each of them, but today she just wanted to enjoy the rodeo like she used to before things got complicated in her life.
“You can’t do this! It’ll be like a mob out there. Can you at least think of your well-being?” Wade groaned.
“I am thinking of my well-being. I want to have some fun.” She continued on, glancing further down the hallway to the exit. She spotted the security crew of three men, each dressed in yellow shirts and red caps, standing around in a semi-circle, monitoring the metal double doors.
“I have an idea,” she said with a wink and a smile.
“What are you doing?” Wade asked.
“Watch and see.” She approached the crew. “Hi, fellows.”
Heads came up, one of them did a double-take and turned pale. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open. Obviously they didn’t expect to see her in this area of the building. “H-hi?” he muttered.
“How are y’all doing?”
“Great” and “Amazing” were said in muttered unison.
“I’m Tom. .” One of the men took a step out of the circle. “Is there a problem, Miss Garvey?” He glanced from Wade to Bruno, then back to Jessa. “Is there anything we can do to help?”
“Yes, you can indeed help. I have a proposition.”
The two men in back continued to stare, mouths agape.
“Okay,” Tom answered.
She slipped off her cowgirl hat, fluffing her cascading curls that the stylist had spent over an hour styling before the show. “I’ll trade you my hat for yours.” She winked, which usually worked in her favor, except it never seemed to work on Wade who was now eyeing her in frustration. She knew when his bushy brows crunched together that he’d reached a level of impatience. He reminded her of a bald Albert Einstein and it was hard not to laugh.
“Sure.” Without hesitation, Tom dragged his worn cap from his head. Blonde curls bounced alive. He couldn’t be a day older than twenty and as cute as a button.
Jessa made the trade and pulled the cap down on her mass of blonde hair, securing it lower on her forehead to shade her eyes. “Now, how do I look?”
“Normal,” Bruno said. On occasion, he did have something to say.
“Thanks. Normal is exactly what I’m shooting for.” She gave the bodyguard a smile and swore his cheeks turned two shades of red. So, he did have human emotions?
Wade made a sound that was somewhere between a growl and a discontented moan. “You just gave him a hat worth hundreds. He’ll turn right around and sell it on EBay.”
“Well, then. Hmm.” She tapped the toe of her boot. “To be fair, how about you throw in those sunglasses, Tom?” Jessa asked.
“These?” He pulled out the glasses from his shirt pocket. “These aren’t worth as much as the cap.”
She took the mirrored sunglasses and slid them onto her face. “These are pretty cool. Thank you. By the way, if you sell that hat, you make sure you don’t take less than three-hundred, you hear? Hand me a pen, Wade.” She held out her hand, waiting.
“What?” The manager groaned.
“A pen? Come on. We’ve kept these gentlemen long enough.” She didn’t even look at Wade to see if he was scowling. The heat of his stare was on her back.
Signing her autograph on the inside of the brim, she handed the hat back over. “There you are. Now it’s worth more.”
“Th-thank you, Miss Garvey.” Tom looked back at the crew, his smile spreading from ear to ear. “I’ll never get rid of this.”
“One more thing, Wade. I need cash.”
He blinked and rubbed his palm over his sweaty forehead. Finally, he dipped into his pocket and pulled out a twenty.
“Seriously? This proves you haven’t been in the real world for far too long. If you haven’t noticed, it’s not the sixties when you could buy a bottle of pop for a nickel.” She looked at Bruno who was actually smiling. The man was on a roll.
Wade shrugged and brought out another twenty and handed both over to Jessa. “Behave yourself.”
With a shudder of excitement, Jessa kissed him on the cheek. “Don’t worry, pops. I’ll be good and home by curfew. I won’t kiss any boys, unless they look like Luke Bryan and then I can’t promise there won’t be any tongue action,” she teased.
His round cheeks reddened and he didn’t even crack a hint of a smile. “Cute. Real cute.”
She opened the door and stepped out into the bright Wyoming sunlight, breathing in the mixture of straw, leather, and funnel cakes, something else she planned to get while she was at it. She hadn’t had one in…dang, she couldn’t remember the last time.
“An hour, Jessa. You hear me?”
She didn’t bother to acknowledge Wade as she disappeared into the crowd, hiding behind sunglasses and cap.
Everybody and their brother and sister had shown up at the popular annual event. There was nothing that compared to the rodeo…and the cowboys. Growing up on a ranch in Texas, men in worn Wranglers and dusty boots were the norm. This was more like a sense of ‘home’ than she’d felt in years. There were so many things she missed. Her life back on the ranch as a little girl who loved riding horses, singing to the livestock, and feeding the chickens was long gone…and so was her innocence. She’d been stepped on enough to hide her trust behind a steel wall.
Moving through the crowd, no one stopped her and asked for an autograph. No one screamed her name or tore open their shirt to reveal a tattoo. In fact, she was elbowed and pushed just like everyone else.
“Hey there, little lady. You wanna test your luck at throwing darts? You can win one of these cuties to warm your bed.” The man behind the counter held up a stuffed monkey. “Five darts for five bucks.”
She stepped up to the booth, slapped down the money, then rubbed her hands together. “Let’s do this.”
Aiming, she tossed the first dart, popping one balloon…then hit the target for the next four. The man handed over her prize, shaking his head. “You have some arm, sweetheart.”
“You should see me with a shotgun.”
She started to step away when she noticed a little girl with her arms crossed and her bottom lip puckered.
“I didn’t win, mommy!”
“Honey, it’s okay. How about we grab an ice cream cone?” the girl’s mother said.
Jessa looked down at the monkey and shrugged, then stepped over to the little girl.. “Hi there.”
The mom looked a little flustered. “Sorry. She’s normally not like this, but she lost her dog last week and I thought the rodeo would cheer her up,” she whispered.
Jessa bent on one knee to the child’s eye level who was almost in tears. “My new friend here is looking for a forever home. Do you happen to know someone who would take him for me?”
Some of the brightness came back to her blue eyes and she drew her bottom lip back in. “I can take him for you. Do you mean it?”
Handing over the stuffed monkey, Jessa enjoyed seeing the smile in the child’s expression. She barely heard the girl’s excited “thank you” because a group of women dressed in midriff shirts and Daisy Dukes had gathered around. Their giggles and high-pitched squeals of delight made Jessa’s ears ring. Standing and slowly backing away, Jessa was ready to take off into a run until she realized they weren’t fan-girling over her.
“Oh. My. Gawd! It’s him! It’s him!” one of the women screeched. “He’s going to sign my stomach and I’ll never shower again!”
“Forget my stomach. He can sign any part of me he wants!” another muttered.
Curious who the ladies salivated over, Jessa did a wide circle around the cluster and stood on tiptoes to get a glimpse of black Stetson and dark-as-night hair brushing a collar. And that was all. At five-four, she wasn’t quite tall enough to see over heads. A bump came at her side as she was rudely jostled by the women who were excited to meet the cowboy.
Moving away from the horde before she was stomped on, she headed in the direction of the Shake ‘em Shack and grabbed an ice-cold lemonade and a funnel cake with extra powdered sugar, then took a quiet spot in the back of the stables to enjoy herself. Sliding off her glasses and hooking them on the neck of her shirt, she bit into the delicious, warm treat, savoring the taste, remembering how, as a child, she visited the fairgrounds every summer and filled up on carnival food until she could barely walk. Then hung out with her 4-H friends by the pig stalls until nightfall when the parade started.
Those were the days.
Munching and dropping crumbs for a nearby bird, she didn’t see the cowboy come around the corner until he was upon her. He bumped her arm, sending the plate out of her hand and the cake went flying. Lemonade squirted up and splashed over her hand as she crushed the plastic cup. “Hey…look what you did!” she squealed, ready to let loose on the person who dared barrel right into her. But her words got stuck somewhere between numb tongue and heavy heartbeat as she tiptoed her gaze upward on a brawny chest, scruffy layer of beard covering a broad chin, to a pair of eyes that compared to the color of blue Playdoh.
“Sorry, ma’am.” He dipped his hat.
“Uh…” Why couldn’t she get her mouth to work?
“Looks like I destroyed your funnel cake and drink.”
“I-I didn’t think I would be bothered here outside of the crowd.”
“Those were my thoughts exactly. It’s a little wild out there.” His thick, rich baritone voice played her veins like a violin.
“Hey, where’d he go? I thought I saw him come this direction,” a female’s voice reached Jessa’s ears.
Before she could wrap her brain around what was happening, Cowboy pulled off his hat and pressed his lips against hers. She gasped in alarm, but the feeling was quickly exchanged for something deep. Something primal. The stranger tasted good and his soft lips evoked a need Jessa didn’t think existed. Her arms hung at her sides and her knees weakened as the kiss continued, his tongue rolling along her bottom lip causing tingles to spread down her neck and lodge in her chest.
He lifted his face and for a long second, he held her gaze until he darted a glance to the right and to the left. “I think we’re safe.” His warm breath brushed her cheek.
“Safe?” He could speak for himself because the rolling sensations rushing through her couldn’t be considered safe. In fact, he’d knocked her senseless.
“Again, sorry, ma’am. Some fans get a little out of control, if you know what I mean. It’s hard to argue with a woman who wants her ti—I mean, breast signed.” He pressed his hat back onto his head, hiding his thick, dark hair that made her ache to run her fingers through it.
Then she summed it up. Black Stetson. Black hair. So this was the cowboy the chicks were going crazy over? The same man who’d just made her toes curl and her heart race…
The man who’d been touching another woman’s breast moments ago.
Anger spiked in her.
“Excuse me, but I don’t know you and I’m certainly not one of your buckle bunnies to be…to be…well…manhandled in such a way.” She took a step back, her shoulder hitting the wall of the stable. She had every reason to be annoyed with the stranger, but it wasn’t rage that spiraled through her body making her panties wet. Her face flushed at the realization that she was turned on. By a stranger. One that resembled Luke Bryan. She’d almost wondered if Wade was playing a trick on her. Sure, if her manager had one single humorous bone in his body, but he didn’t.
One corner of his mouth lifted. Did he find this amusing? “You have a little something here.” He tapped his chin. She swiped at her face, but he shook his head, working his bottom lip. “No, let me help.” With a wide, callused finger, he brushed her skin, leaving a trace of heat behind. “There, the powdered sugar is gone.” He licked the tip of his finger and her legs wobbled.
Holy shit. Who was this cowboy?
“You ready? You’re about on,” a man said from somewhere—anywhere. Jessa didn’t care. He could have been the President and she wouldn’t have known any different. She couldn’t drag her gaze off tall, dark, and handsome standing in her personal space.
“I’m coming,” Cowboy called, keeping his ice-blue gaze connected with hers. “Duty calls. I hope you’ll forgive me for the lost cake. The birds are certainly happy.” He winked then turned, leaving her leaning against the wall, quivering like a newborn foal.
Looking down at her ruined funnel cake and crushed cup, she realized she’d just been used as a ruse…and it was the best kiss she’d had in too long to count. Heck, she didn’t even think to get an autograph. An image of him touching her breast sent tremors straight for every secret place on her body.
Meandering from her hiding spot, she dropped the cup and plate into the metal trash can with a disappointed sigh. Almost forgetting part of her disguise, she quickly put her sunglasses back on. Looking around, no one was the wiser.
Stepping out into the crowd, she followed the flow then took a position at the fence as the barrel racing finished up. The final scores were being announced. The local celebrity bull riders would be up next. Several names were called and a cowboy from Nirvana was among the riders, but she didn’t catch his name. She’d heard about the cowboys and the Nirvana Ranch. The men had made quite a name for themselves while making the ranch one of the most popular retreats in Wyoming, if not the country.
Feeling a nudge on her arm, she held her breath and looked up to find a cowboy nestled up next to her. Disenchantment slithered through her as she had hoped to see Blue Eyes again. This cowboy had dark eyes and a nice smile, but didn’t conjure heated sensations between her thighs. He dipped his hat and she gave him a civil smile in return, then turned her attention back to the arena.
Jessa liked being here and not being recognized, which meant she could hang out and enjoy life like she did prior to her song, Let’s Be Friends, hit number one on the country music charts. She missed doing normal things like going out for ice cream, going to the movies, or shopping. And getting kissed behind a barn. She giggled, but quickly swallowed the sound when she received a few curious glances in her direction. To stay incognito, she couldn’t draw attention to herself.
She used to go to the rodeo with her dad and brothers. She wished they could be here today with her, but Wade had booked her appearance at the last minute, and her siblings had a ranch to run. Her heart ached for her childhood home. She hadn’t visited in two years and she felt guilty about that, but she always had something pressing to do.
Pushing aside the thought, she wanted to enjoy herself here in her element that made her happy. Although she came across as girly-girl, she’d grown up working with horses, cattle, and bulls. She’d been right there beside her brothers and dad from the time she could remember, feeding livestock, brushing down horses, and learning the tools of the trade of running a cattle ranch. If she hadn’t had the talent of singing, she would have certainly followed in the steps of her father, not that she was complaining. From the time she’d worn pigtails, she loved singing at church and social gatherings, never knowing that one day she’d be on stage.
The rest was history.
While the barrels were being rolled through an open gate, bulls were being loaded into the holding pen. Jessa scanned the row of bulls and tightened her hold on the top rail of the fence. Some were already snorting and pawing the dirt. Anticipation shimmied down her spine at what was to come. They were massive, muscular, unpredictable creatures, and she respected anyone brave enough to climb onto the back of a beast. Not everyone was courageous enough to take the eight-second ride.
The crowd grew thicker around her, blocking her in and pressing her against the fence. Good thing her claustrophobia wasn’t as bad outdoors or she’d be having a panic attack about now. She squirmed and the cowboy to her left flashed a smooth smile as if he didn’t mind one bit that she was cuddled close. Yeah, he was handsome, but she wasn’t looking and he didn’t have ice-blue eyes. She was too busy in her career, keeping her head above water.
Turning her gaze back to the pen, she noticed more cowboys were gathering at the holding pens, preparing to ride. Her gaze automatically stopped at one who was leaning on his elbow against the fence. It was him! The blue-eyed cowboy!
She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until her lungs stung. Inhaling sharply, she stared intently at the stranger who’d gotten more response from her than her ex-boyfriend had when he was naked. Sweat beaded between her breasts and a familiar feeling settled between her legs as she stared.
Blue-eyes wasn’t shooting the shit like the other cowboys. He seemed focused and intense. There was something about the tall man that set him apart from the rest, beside the fact that she knew what his lips tasted like. Maybe it was because he was at least three inches taller than most of them. Or was it his long, lanky physique? Or the determination she saw in his prominent jaw?
His black Stetson was pulled low shadowing his face so she couldn’t make out his facial features, but she didn’t need to see to know they were as attention-getting as the rest of him. Clad in ass-hugging denim and leather chaps, blue plaid button down, with his rope hung over his broad shoulder, he was the perfect vision of a cowboy. Her mouth watered. She remembered how good his lips felt and the scent of leather lingered on her skin from his touch.
Someone waved him over to climb atop his bull.
He pushed off the fence and scrubbed his jaw, readjusting his hat. No sign of uneasiness or worry was in his expression. His shoulders were back and his chin was slightly tilted. She watched him swagger toward the pen as the first bull darted out of the chute. It ended before Jessa even knew what happened because her gaze was locked on Blue-eyes who climbed the holding chute. He moved confidently, showing off his skills. He lightly patted the bull’s back as if to test for reaction. The bull snorted loudly, shook his head back and forth, and pawed at the dirt. The cowboy’s jaw tightened. Was he questioning why he’d decided to do this? Would he change his mind? No, she could tell he was a man who never backed down from a challenge.
Once he climbed atop the bull’s back, he secured his fist in the rope, scooted closer on the beast’s shoulders and pushed his hat higher on his forehead. Her heart lurched into her throat. From her standpoint, she could see the glint in his amazing eyes, the set of his chiseled cheeks…and she swore he looked familiar, like she’d met him before the incident at the barn.
The cowboy standing next to her spat a large wad of chew into the dirt and swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “He’s been out of the scene too long. Pretty boy won’t make the cut, I tell you. That bull’s gonna send him for a dirt bath and a trip to hell. Just like the last.”
She wasn’t sure who the man was talking to, but she leaned closer. “Who is that exactly?”
The man gave her a side-glance. “That’s Jace Jackson. Back in his twenties he was the best damn rider I’d seen until he was dumped and suffered an injury to his leg and back. Then he disappeared. They talked him into coming back for charity. Pfft. Ain’t worth it, I say. Looks like he drew the rankest bull. No way in hell he has a chance staying saddled.”
Jace Jackson. Jace Jackson? She rolled the name around in her head. How did she know him? Ignoring the vulgar exchange between the men surrounding her, she concentrated on the one cowboy who had her undivided attention. She suddenly felt sympathetic for him, didn’t want to see him wounded. The mad bull seemed angry, and had gotten a reputation for rearranging a good amount of cowboy faces. It’d be a shame if anything happened to any part of Blue-eyes.
*****
Straddling the bull, Suicide, Jace stayed focused on his routine, not allowing the act of the bull banging his head against the rail to detour his thoughts.
Although he hadn’t been on the back of a bull in years, it was like riding a bike. It was second nature to him. He held the bull’s rope tightly, easing himself deeper into position and leaning over its massive shoulders to gain more control. The beast snorted loudly and pawed the dirt, sending up a dust cloud. A shiver of anticipation raced through Jace as he prepared to hold on for dear life or be dumped onto his ass. A thought of his last ride shot through his head. He’d been at the top of his career when he’d been knocked to the ground, his bones broken by a bull much like Suicide. Jace blew the memory away, gritting his teeth. Either way, the charity would still get its money, yet he wasn’t sure how he’d allowed Chase to convince him into this shit.
Jace wasn’t sure he was ready to face the fire of the hooves after ten years of retirement.
Really, he knew why he’d agreed. This was his second chance—his last chance—to prove that he could stay on for eight seconds. He wanted to walk away proudly, not on a stretcher incapable of moving, something he didn’t get years ago.
“Got that, Suicide? I’m walking away after I take my win,” he whispered.
The bull snorted.
Nothing could prepare a rider entirely for climbing on the back of a three-quarter ton beast that was about as predictable as a rattlesnake. Bull-riding compared to nothing else. It ranked up there with the highest of high—the ultimate height of senses. His nerves were on edge and his spine tingled. His toes curled in his worn boots. His ass clenched. It was good to feel…really feel, again.
Before he left the rodeo, he was like any other bull rider, searching for a bigger and better eight-second adrenaline rush. Just being here, legs straddling Suicide’s back, made Jace sweat. A rider couldn’t have an ego in this position, and yet he couldn’t allow his fear to give the bull bigger balls.
He closed off his senses to every sound around him as he concentrated on his even breathing and the feel of the bull’s heavy breaths on the back of his thighs. Jace could hear his own heartbeat thumping, the sound of his blood pumping through his veins. The smell of dirt, sweat, and manure swirled around his nostrils making his stomach twist, threatening to send up the lunch he’d eaten.
Looking up into the bright blue sky, he said a silent prayer, then raised his right arm. The click of the gate unlocking triggered every muscle to tighten. He gave his nod to the chute man.
Suicide shot out of the chute like a reckless hurricane, bucking madly and coming down hard onto his front hooves and arching. Jace leaned into the bull’s wide shoulders as he held on for the wild, unpredictable ride. Suicide took off for center of the pen, pounding the dirt, kicking up a tornado. Each thrashing and recoiling of the bull’s large body whipped Jace around, testing his strength and endurance. The animal jerked to the left, then quickly to the right, and Jace followed each frenzied lurching motion and spin, and rough dive forward. The fear of hitting the dirt and being gored was the inspiration that kept him steady on Suicide’s back. He squeezed his thighs and relaxed his shoulders some, making his flinging body more flexible against the demanding attempts of the bull to send him flying.
Not this time.
The bull snorted as he continued his battering acrobats. He was a trained animal coming up with every bold effort to buck his rider off. Concentrating on Suicide’s head helped Jace get an idea what the bull would do next and which direction he’d take. He sunk his fist deep into the beefy, tight shoulders as they continued the rodeo dance, human and bull both stubborn and refusing to give up and give in. Suicide stomped and bucked his back legs up high, thrashing the air, coming down hard, only to take a fast lunge forward sending Jace slipping sideways, but he caught himself.
Good try, but still not happening.
The buzzer finally sounded just as the bull bounced again, refusing to give the cowboy the win. Suicide lowered his horns and rolled his head before jerking up to the right sending Jace to the left. He felt his grip loosen as his body bounced up and came down hard. The bull proved why he was named Suicide.
As man and bull whirled around the pen, there were blurred glimpses of a bullfighter struggling to gain the attention of Suicide who, when finally noticed they weren’t alone, stopped, snorted loudly, pawed the ground, and started for the bullfighter who raced for the fence. The bull whizzed on by with Jace still holding on tightly. The jumping, beating, and charging continued, the bull keeping him hostage.
Several more bullfighters joined the first, waving their arms and dodging the pissed off bull. Jace understood the longer he was on the bull’s back, the more chance he wouldn’t get off without injury. His bones were jarred and his ribs ached, but he knew it could get worse. He was lucky to be alive.
Repositioning his fist on the rope, Jace waited for the first opportunity to abandon his perch. Suicide was growing tired too and his thrashing slowed some, or maybe he was luring Jace to make an impulsive decision.
They rounded the arena. Cheers from the crowd made it through Jace’s tunnel hearing.
Loosening his hold, he took a long draw of breath and went for broke, slamming hard on his side into the dirt. He could hear one of the bullfighter’s yelling, “Watch out! He’s coming!” as Jace scrambled to his feet. Suicide’s heavy snorts and pounding hooves vibrated the ground like a pack of wild horses. The fence was close. Ten feet. Five feet. Then two feet until Jace grabbed hold of the rail, swinging himself up, barely missing the sharp horns of Suicide as he sprinted by.
A bullfighter grabbed him by the shoulders and dragged him to safety. “Shit, Jackson. That was close.”
Blinding, burning pain clutched his ribcage. Ah, shit! He’d broken a rib.