“Jace, aren’t you being a little melodramatic? I’ve come back from worse injuries than this.” Porter scoffed at Jace as he strapped the brace back on.
“I’m sure you can find a doctor to clear you. But it won’t be me. I’m dead serious about this, Porter. I’m your cousin and your best friend. I wouldn’t bullshit you. You’ve had too many concussions. You now have a weak vertebra that if it breaks or even has a piece of bone break off, could pinch or damage your spinal cord, leaving you paralyzed or dead. The choice is yours. But because I love you, I’m telling you it’s time to hang up your spurs.”
Porter shook his head as he looked around the back part of his parents’ farm. These back ninety acres and the small house on it were his. He might not own them outright, but he was working on that. He’d bought Parker out of his share just three days before. He was going to approach his father next about buying the land. “I’m nothing without this,” Porter admitted as fear struck him deep in his core.
Jace let out a deep breath and sat down next to him. “I’m not talking about giving up the farm, just the competitions. You can ride. You can barrel race. You can breed horses and bulls. You just can’t be on anything that bucks. I know you’re fine now. I know in six weeks you could be back on a bull or a bronc, but what I’m looking at isn’t your ability to ride in six weeks. I’m looking at making sure you’re still alive in six years.”
Porter felt it like a punch to the gut. He knew Jace spoke the truth, but that didn’t mean hearing it didn’t hurt like hell. “I guess it’s always better to go out on top, right?”
“I’m sorry, Porter, but you are retiring as a two-time world champion. That will be big for the farm.”
Porter nodded as he buttoned his shirt. “I’ve already sold out of all my stock for the next three years. I have the money to really expand this place now. I heard Mr. Habisher who owns the farm behind us is thinking of selling. I was contemplating buying it. I could put a path through the woods and then there’s all that acreage back there. But still, not rodeoing anymore? I didn’t know how Parker did it, but I guess I’ll find out.”
“Call him. You know your brother will help you with the transition.” Jace stood up and picked up his medical bag. “I’m sorry, Porter. I know how much you love riding.”
Porter nodded and watched Jace head for his SUV. Porter dug out his cell phone and called his aunt Morgan.
“How are you feeling?” Morgan didn’t bother saying hello.
“Jace says I should retire. What do you think?”
“I think I’ve already written up a press release and have a substantial number of interviews waiting for you to announce just that. You’ll go out on top while promoting your farm. You’ll be set for life, Porter. And more importantly, you’ll be alive for it,” Morgan said bluntly. That’s why everyone in the family loved Aunt Morgan. She and Miles always told it as it was.
“Do it.” Porter hung up the phone and rested his head against the side of the barn. It was done. He was retiring.
“You look great,” Aunt Morgan told him as he winked at the makeup lady. “You know what you’re going to say?”
“I got it,” Porter said as he glanced over at the biggest sportscaster around sitting on a barstool in the middle of Porter’s pasture. Above them was a tent to cast them in the perfect amount of shade. Cameras were set up, lighting was on, and it was time to announce his retirement.
Porter stood up wearing his various sponsors’ jeans, boots, and hat. Morgan had gotten a bonus from them for this last bit of promotion before he was no longer marketable—those were her blunt words.
“I can’t believe you’re retiring,” Sam Winchell said as he stood in his navy three-piece suit and pink tie. He looked completely out of place in the pasture with horses roaming in the background. However, the guy was built like a tank and was as smooth as ice in both his dress and sports knowledge. “Thanks for letting me have the interview.”
“I might be a rodeo guy, but you edged out Primetime by being a Kentucky man,” Porter joked as he shook Sam’s hand. Sam had been a pro football player in Lexington. He’d retired ten years earlier and climbed his way up to become the best sports reporter out there. His weekly show was the highest-rated sports show in history. Plus, Porter was still doing Primetime, just not first. Aunt Morgan was a PR genius.
Sam looked around. Porter saw that his short black hair had razor-tight edging as he turned his head. “I do miss the Bluegrass State. You ready to do this?”
“No, but I’m doing it anyway,” Porter said with a smile that he didn’t feel. He was supposed to be happy. He was supposed to be choosing this retirement even though it was really choosing him. But, how could he get back on a horse or bull after seeing his mother’s face when he woke up at the hospital? He’d never seen her so pale or so frightened before.
“What a show we have for you tonight! I’m here in beautiful Keeneston, Kentucky, at the PD Rodeo Farm with the owner and two-time Rodeo World Champion Porter Davies,” Sam said into the camera.
Porter put on his smile, answered the questions, thanked his sponsors, and pushed his farm. “This isn’t the end of my career, just the first chapter in a new book,” Porter said as he gestured to the farm behind him.
“What a first chapter it is,” Sam said with a grin. “I hear you already have a waitlist three years out, full of the who’s who on the rodeo circuit.”
“It’s very exciting. I’m looking forward to the future.”
Sam shook hands with Porter and turned to the camera. “Thank you, Porter, for some incredible rides and all the best to your new endeavor, although you’ve never needed luck. You have a natural talent. Ten years on the pro circuit and now you can retire and step to the other side of the fence where I hope the grass is greener. I’m Sam Winchell. Next week I speak to basketball standout . . .”
Porter did it. He was officially retired. Sam finished with his sign-off as Porter looked out over the farm. What was he going to do with himself now? Yes, the farm was his passion, but it would never give him the adrenaline rush of those eight-second rides.
“It was a good interview,” Parker said, crossing his arms over his button-down shirt. He might be a US marshal, but only his button-down shirt and tie looked the part.
“They let you wear jeans and a cowboy hat on the job? If so, maybe I should join the marshals, too,” Porter said, teasing his brother.
“You’d find it boring tracking down bad guys and protecting the good ones,” Parker said, knowing he was right. It really wasn’t Porter’s thing.
“I could become a weapons tester for Sophie,” Porter said about their cousin Sophie Dagher who designed new weapons for police and military. “You may be the big tough marshal, but I shot the acid gun of death.”
Porter and Parker both laughed as the video of the incident had somehow been shown to all of Keeneston. Porter had been ribbed mercilessly for accidentally melting away part of a house after tripping and shooting off a little acid bomb.
“Actually, that does sound fun. I bet she has explosives,” Parker said to him.
“Nope. Don’t you take my job. I called it!” Porter said, punching his brother in the arm.
“Boys,” their mother said with a roll of her eyes. “Will you ever stop hitting each other?”
“They have to hit each other because they’ll never beat me,” their father said as he joined them. Porter shot a look to Parker. It was on.
Porter and Parker lunged for Cy and five minutes later they were covered in dirt and grass from head to toe, but they were all smiling and laughing.
“Told you so,” Cy said, standing and brushing off his jeans. “The old man still has it, babe.”
“Ugh, Dad,” Parker groaned as Cy grabbed Gemma and kissed her way more passionately than any father should kiss a mother in front of the kids.
“When you boys are married, you’ll do the same thing,” Gemma said calmly after their father stopped the totally embarrassing and near
-pornographic kiss. “Speaking of marriage . . .”
“Gotta go feed the horses,” Porter blurted out.
“Thanks, asshole,” Parker whispered as Porter bolted, leaving the marriage lecture to his brother.
Porter chuckled as he entered the barn to start the nightly chores. He might love rodeo, but he loved his family more. However, he wasn’t above throwing his brother under the marriage bus.
3
Miami, Florida . . .
Willa Aldridge held her breath as her horse, Apollo, cleared the five-foot oxer jump with ease, soaring past the decorative palm trees that held up the rails. She had two more jumps to finish and the course would be clear.
Apollo could fly, but it was up to her to tell him when to spread his wings. She glanced at the clock. It was time to fly. Willa squeezed her legs and Apollo kicked it up a gear. He practically flew over the wall as they sped toward the finish line. The previous three horses had faulted on the last jump.
Willa lowered her body and tightened her thighs. The pressure encouraged Apollo as he headed for the jump. His muscles tensed under her as he got ready to explode into the jump.
Willa heard the cheers as Apollo cleared the jump and they finished the course. She sat up in the English jumping saddle and pumped her fist in the air before she patted Apollo’s neck. The horse was practically bouncing with excitement. He knew he’d done well and was feeding off the crowd’s energy.
The pro jumping event was just off the beach and was packed with Willa’s friends and enemies. Here, on the course, she was just Willa with her horse. But as she left the ring and saw Callum Harding smirking at her, she also knew she was surrounded by enemies.
Men and women competed against each other in equestrian events. That meant her ex-boyfriend from boarding school was present at every event. He and his little horde of nightmares gave her mocking claps. As if surviving her senior year after breaking up with Callum wasn’t bad enough, he’d attended university with her, too. She’d been stuck with him for another four years on the university equestrian team, before entering this elite level of jumping . . . together.
“Can you believe they’re all twenty-eight or older and acting like that?”
Willa dismounted and kissed Apollo before taking off her helmet and shaking out her toffee-brown ponytail. “Thank goodness I have you, Tilly, or I’d quit riding today.”
Tilly Bradford, or Matilda as her father called her, was Willa’s best friend. She ran in the same circles Willa did. They had been best friends ever since they were ten years old. They had been at Marguerite Borghese’s birthday party when Marguerite snatched the cupcake from Tilly’s hand and declared that since it was her birthday, she got whatever she wanted. That belief system now ran to every day and not just birthdays for Marguerite. When Willa had shared her cupcake with a tearful Tilly, she’d gained a friend for life.
Tilly was “old money.” Her family had made their fortune hundreds of years ago and only grown it over the centuries. So much so that even Marguerite thought twice about being a bitch to her after learning the history of the Bradford family wealth when they were all thirteen.
Tilly’s house was a museum of a mansion. Well, all of her houses were. There were whole hallways filled with portraits of Bradfords who all shared the same blue eyes and various shades of blond hair.
Willa, on the other hand, was “new money.” An Aldridge relative had been a duke in England a couple of centuries before. However, her father was the third son of a second son of a fifth son type thing, so all of the family wealth and fancy titles belonged to some very distant cousins Willa had never met. No, her father made his fortune by developing new technologies. Willa had gone to the best schools and had a massive trust fund. But since her father hadn’t hit it big until she was almost nine years old, Willa had always thought of herself as the middle-class suburban girl she’d been raised.
She’d grown up in a split-level house where her father had converted the garage into a workroom. He started by building custom computers and then branched into software before hitting it big with a little chip that processed information a certain way to make computers run faster. Every computer made in the last twenty years had one, yet no one knew his name. Her father liked it that way. He liked flying under the radar. However, the one thing he refused to fly under the radar was his family.
Her father, Brian Aldridge, had spoiled his wife and only child. The big house, the resort-style swimming pool, and of course, a pony. Willa had had the best of everything, but even all the billions in the world hadn’t kept a brain aneurysm from killing her mother when Willa was a freshman in high school.
Willa had been in a private school near their home until that point but she had a hard time living in the house after her mother died. There were memories everywhere and so she’d begged her father to send her to boarding school. It had nearly killed him, but he’d done it for her. It was only after Willa was an adult that she realized how hard it had been on her father to lose his wife and then to send his daughter away to school. Willa decided then that she was going to make her father proud and she was going to work for him. She didn’t have his ability to develop cutting edge technology, but she had a head for business.
She graduated from college with a business and finance degree and began in an entry-level job at her father’s company, Anancites, as she earned her MBA. She’d been steadily working her way up since then and made it to vice president a few months ago. She’d never given up her love of riding, even through the long hours at the office. What that meant was that Willa had no life outside work or horses; she literally had no time for anything else. Several of her friends were already married and having children, but that wasn’t even on her radar.
“Want to grab a bite to eat real quick before the end of the event? I assume you’re driving home afterward?” Tilly asked as they walked back to the stables. Some people handed their horses off, but Willa always liked to walk Apollo back and give him a treat before the groom took him to cool down and load him into the trailer for the hour drive north to their farm near Wellington, Florida.
“That sounds great. Then you can share all the gossip you’ve heard today. I wish I rode first like you did so I could enjoy the rest of the event instead of being a bundle of nerves.” Willa could control a boardroom with ease, but thinking about riding in front of a crowd got her nerves working overtime. But as soon as she mounted Apollo, all of the tension would disappear. All the distraction, all the pressure, and all the stress simply disappeared and she was just a woman riding a horse she loved.
“I’ll grab us a table!” Tilly called out as she hurried off toward the pavilion.
“Dad!” Willa said with surprise as she approached her stall. “What are you doing here? I thought you had to work.”
“I brought the helicopter and flew down to see you jump. You were magnificent.” Her father was her hero. He was in his mid-fifties, but his hair was still the same toffee-brown as hers. He pulled her into a tight hug and she felt like a little girl again. “I also come with news.”
“Good news I hope,” Willa said as she gave Apollo his apple and nodded to his groom to take him to get cooled down and cleaned up.
Willa unbuttoned her black show coat and sighed with relief as the moisture-wicking white dress shirt began to cool her off.
“Very. We got the contract with the government. Your presentation sealed the deal,” her father told her with a proud smile.
“Yes!” Willa tossed her head back in celebration. Her father had designed new multi-level mobile encryption software that would turn each phone into the most secure device in the world. A CIA operative in the Middle East would use the first level of hardware to enter his phone, such as a fingerprint, facial recognition, or passcode. That hardware was manufactured for them via another developer. Then the operative would enter a second code when accessing government information, such as searching government databases, sending or receiving secure information via email or tex
t, and accessing secure video links.
That was where Anancites came in. That second code would trigger a five-step multi-level encryption of all information sent or received. The information sent would be encrypted with one algorithm, then that encryption would be encrypted again and again, each under a different algorithm that had its own data key, making it the most secure device in the world.
“The recent hacks from foreign states helped us get this contract, but it also puts a target on us. No one is to know what we’re doing,” her father said as he lowered his voice. “I want to open a second headquarters for Anancites where this will be the sole project. It will be highly classified and I want you to run it.”
“Me? You’re handing this over to me to run?” Willa asked with a mixture of shock and excitement.
“You’re ready. I’ll still be in charge of the software, but you’ll be the point person on it. You’ll run the facility and meet with the government officials. It’ll be a small team at first. They’re starting with phones for undercover agents. The first batch is at the office now and we’ll get them set up over the next couple of weeks. Starting next month, all phones will be sent to the new office for the secure download and setup. You’ll teach the agents how to use the phones, either in person or over a secure line. You’re the only public face of this program. None of the tech people can have their identities known. Since they each only work on their specific level of encryption, it helps keep things confidential. It’s one of the many layers I have in place to keep the intellectual property secure.”
“Thank you so much, Dad. I’ll make you proud.”
“Oh honey, you already make me proud. You always have,” Her father hugged her but then frowned. “This is the hard part. I want the headquarters more centralized. It would be too obvious if I put them in Washington or another major city like that.”
Forever Thrown: Forever Bluegrass #16 Page 2