Swearing, Wyatt headed toward the fence, meeting Jesse as he walked up. "Jesse."

"Wyatt." The two men shook hands.

Wyatt stepped back restlessly, not in the mood for meaningless platitudes. "What's up?" He didn't bother with preambles. Only one thing mattered, and that was getting back in the ring. "You're here about the suspension? My appeal didn't go through?"

Jesse tipped his hat back. "Someone juiced that bull you rode."

Wyatt nodded. "I know. It wasn't me." He was aware of Brody walking up to stand beside him, covering his back. Always loyal, even when he was irritated with him. Wyatt fucking loved the Harts. They'd taught him about loyalty when he hadn't even had the first clue what it meant. He'd go through hell and back for every single one of them.

Jesse studied him. "The chemical in the bull's system wasn't designed to give you a ride tough enough to give you a high score. It was meant to get you killed."

Wyatt blinked, startled by the announcement. "What? Kill me? What are you talking about?"

"My brother's a vet. He researched the drug. The only possible use of that drug in the quantities found in that bull's body was to make it uncontrollable, and insanely aggressive. To make its mind snap. It wasn't a fluke he went after you when you were down. If it hadn't been for the clowns, you'd be dead." Jesse cocked an eyebrow. "We also found someone had doctored the coffee of both the clowns working your ride. Neither of them had had time to drink it, but if they had, they both would have been half-asleep and too slow to help you when the bull went after you. It was a setup, Wyatt. An assassination."

Sudden tension gripped Wyatt's shoulders. He could tell from Jesse's face that he was dead serious. "What the hell?"

Beside him, Brody shifted, and Wyatt could feel the tension rolling off him. "Someone tried to murder Wyatt? You think Wyatt was the specific target, or did he just happen to be in the wrong place?"

Jesse glanced at him, his face solemn. "The bull was drugged after Wyatt was announced as his rider. Wyatt was the target."

Shit. "That makes no sense. Who the hell would want to kill me?" And why? But even as he asked, a name popped into his head. He swore. Shit. No. It was impossible.

He glanced at Brody, who looked as stunned as Wyatt felt. Murder? What the hell?

Jesse shrugged. "I don't know who did it, but that's why I'm here. You got any ideas?"

"No–"

"Yes, you do." Brody interrupted. "You're thinking the same thing I'm thinking."

"Who?" Jesse asked.

Wyatt looked at Brody. "She would never try to kill me–"

"Who?" Jesse repeated the question.

Wyatt looked at Brody for a long moment, then Brody turned to Jesse. "Octavia Kincaid. Wyatt's former fiancée."

A hard, cold sensation settled in Wyatt's gut, that same coldness that had gripped him since the day he'd learned of her betrayal a year ago. He couldn't even hear her name without all the feelings of that moment crashing down upon him.

Jesse raised his brows. "I thought it was an amicable breakup."

"No way," Brody muttered. "She–"

"Enough." Wyatt cut off his friend. There was no way he was going there. She wasn't worth it. Instead, he focused on what mattered to him. "What about the suspension? It's cleared, then?"

Brody swore. "Hell, Wyatt. Let go of the riding. That doesn't matter right now."

"It matters." Wyatt kept his gaze on Jesse. "Well?"

Jesse nodded. "Yeah, you're clear."

"Hell." Relief rushed over Wyatt, so intense that he had to clench his fist. His name was cleared. "So, I can ride this weekend?"

Brody swore again. "You're not ready."

Jesse was shaking his head. "Someone tried to kill you. If you go back out there now, before we figure it out, they could get it right this time. Stay low. Keep recovering. Give me a few days to figure it out. I'll need more information on the situation with Octavia, and any other names." He assessed Wyatt carefully. "And how in the hell did you get medical clearance to ride, anyway? I saw that crash. You should be sidelined."

"I'm fine." Had Octavia really tried to kill him? That made no sense. "I don't think Octavia would try to kill me, but I don't know of anyone else. I have no clue." And he didn't. He couldn't even wrap his mind around the fact that someone had tried to kill him. "If it was Octavia, she didn't try to kill me. Jeopardize my ride? Yeah, sure. I could buy that, and there are a few other names I could list." He dropped a few names of competitors who hadn't liked Wyatt's fast rise to the top. "But try murder? No way. No one." But even as he said it, he flashed back to that night a year ago, when the woman he'd trusted, who he'd thought he'd loved, had ripped apart everything that had mattered to him, everything that he'd built up. Octavia had taught him never to trust a woman again, and it was a lesson he was never going to forget.

Jesse met his gaze. "Someone tried to murder you, Wyatt. Accept it, and stay off the bulls this weekend, until I figure it out."

"Stay off the bulls?" Wyatt glanced back over his shoulder at the ring. At the dirt. He was supposed to walk away because some piece of shit tried to take him down? No. Never. He turned back "No chance. I need to ride." He saw the resistance on the faces of both men, but it didn't matter. He had to ride. He knew he had no choice. For reasons that no one but him would ever understand.

Some choices weren't really choices. Some choices were simply fate, burned into a man's bones, a destiny from which there was no deviation, no reprieve, and no salvation.

He was going to ride this weekend. If he died, well, he died. He accepted that possibility. Death had never scared him. It was failing to claim the life he was meant to live that haunted him.