Rockin' Rodeo Series Collection Books 1-3

by Vicki Tharp

  “Son of a bitch.” Ian tore out of the camper, heading straight for Cora and Josephine’s trailer. As he rounded the stock trailer, he saw Josephine hauling a bale of hay to her trailer, he glanced behind her but there was no sign of Cora.

  He skidded to a stop in front of her. “Where is she?”

  “The barn. Why?” Josephine dropped the dolly and followed Ian as he jogged toward the barn. “Ian, what’s wrong?”

  “You weren’t supposed to leave her alone.”

  The barn seemed miles away when, in reality, it couldn’t have been more than seventy yards. But when every step you took felt heavy and monumentally slow, it might as well have been.

  Along the way, he tried to tell himself he was wrong, that Cora was fine, and he didn’t have anything to worry about, but the violent roll of his stomach told him otherwise.

  “I didn’t. She went to help Scottie with a wounded steer,” Josephine said, her words came out harsh as she panted trying to keep up with his pace.

  That roll his stomach was on did a couple of nauseating loops and spins like some sort of nightmare roller coaster. “I think it’s Hines,” Ian said, not having the time to explain what he’d seen. By the look on Josephine’s face that was all she needed.

  “Cora!” Ian called out as he broke into the barn. He stopped long enough to listen for a response. Nothing. Only the scuff of a couple of hooves and a few half-asleep horse heads popping up above the stalls.

  “They said they were going to be by the big indoor pen.”

  Ian called out again as he ran for the pen and the bank of barn lights. He slapped the big vapor light on for the entire barn, his eyes slowly adjusting as the lights gradually came on. Ian ran down one side of the pen and Josephine ran down the other.

  “I don’t see them anywhere,” Josephine said.

  “Go hunt down one of the security guards, tell him I’m headed out to the stockyard.”

  He didn’t wait for an answer as he called out for Cora again and beat it toward the overflow pens, looking both ways down all the aisles as he ran, making sure he didn’t miss her along the way. Even though he ran most every day, his breath became ragged, his chest constricting as his fear rose. This was all his fault. He shouldn’t have left her alone with Josephine to pack, no matter that Cora had insisted.

  Then he heard it. His name. “Cora!” Somewhere, somehow, he found another gear, his legs churning through the dirt and dust.

  He burst out of the back of the bright barn, into the poorly lit stockyard. He stopped, not knowing which way to go. With the animals riled up, he had a hard time hearing any cries for help.

  Then he heard her scream. Adrenaline dumped into his system burning white and hot, narrowing his focus. At the far end of the stockyard, he saw the movement, the scuffle.

  He didn’t think, he just ran, knowing if he didn’t hurry he could lose them in the streets. “Hines!” Ian hadn’t expected the man to stop, if that was him, but the word ripped from his throat, jagged and cutting.

  He ran like his life depended on it because it did. Nothing mattered except catching Hines. Not who his real father was, not his contest entry, not even his burgeoning ambivalence with winning.

  Only Cora mattered.

  Reaching the spot where he’d last seen Cora, Ian hopped the fence. No one was in sight. He stopped, listening for Cora calling out, or for the slap of boots on pavement, but all he heard was the deafening roar of the blood past his eardrums. A rushing, gushing sound as if he were drowning.

  Emotion swamped him—fear, guilt, anger, denial. Thinking about what more he could have done to protect Cora to find the man responsible. Ian fought through the emotional onslaught, focusing on finding Cora.

  He made a split-second decision and ran toward town, instead of through the field to the trees beyond. With Hines on Cora’s heels, her best chance was heading towards people.

  Running, running, running, Ian took the most direct route to the main drag. The flat soles of his leather boots slid on the concrete as he stopped at the street corner. Watching, listening. On the outskirts of town this late at night, traffic vacillated between sparse and nonexistent. At least until the bars closed for the night. She screamed, and he spun. He caught a flash of movement disappearing into the alley beside the Bar and Grill. He took off again, arms pumping, feet pounding.

  As he raced towards Cora, he knew one thing for certain...

  Hell was not this mythical, infernal place of fire and brimstone and eternal damnation that clergy always preached about.

  Hell was real.

  Hell was here and now.

  Hell was terrifying, soul-wrenching. Hell was knowing the woman he loved was in mortal danger…and he may not be able to save her.

  Up ahead, the Bar and Grill’s door opened, spilling out a man and woman along with laughter and a steady country twang. Ian recognized Levi from the shape of his hat and the formidable build.

  Ian pointed and hollered, “The alley. Cora.”

  For a big man, Levi proved fast on his feet, taking off for the alley at a dead run, beating Ian by good ten seconds.

  Ten of the longest, most agonizing seconds of Ian’s life.

  Taking the corner at top speed, Ian miscalculated his trajectory, slipping and slamming into the side of the building, the pummeling his shoulder took hardly registering. What did register was Cora’s still form sprawled across the alley, Levi pressing Hines against the wall, Levi’s fist landing blow after brutal blow to Hine’s gut and face.

  That Levi might kill Hines was a fleeting thought. But seeing Cora on the ground made it hard for Ian to give five flying fucks.

  “Cora.” Ian fell on his knees beside her, the dark, dank scent of piss and rancid garbage hung in the air, too heavy for the mild breeze to dissipate.

  Levi and Hines scuffled behind him. Was Cora even breathing? “Talk to me, baby.” He reached a hand out to check her pulse, terrified of what he’d find. Beneath a shaking hand, he found the steady thrum of her pulse.

  Alive. She was alive.

  Elation, and relief, mixed with a cauldron of dark emotions hit Ian until he didn’t know what or how he felt. He only knew that this day would go down as singularly the worst and best day of his life.

  A crowd from the bar started gathering at the head of the alley. “Call an ambulance,” Ian said as he took her hand and gently patted her cheek. “Wake up, baby. It’s okay. You’re okay. Just come back to me.”

  “And the police,” Levi called out.

  Ian spared a glance at Levi. The bulldogger had Hines’ face pressed against the brick wall, one arm to the back of the slime bag’s neck, the other pinning Hines’ arms behind his back.

  He brought his focus back to Cora, at the stillness of her form, at the scrape at her temple, at the tear in her shirt exposing her bra.

  Vengeance reared its head, a cold, savage beast. He stood, slow and deliberate, not a blinding rage, but a calculated retribution. Sirens wailed in the distance as Ian stalked over to Hines.

  “I’ve got him,” Levi said.

  A restrained Hines didn’t mean this all ended. “Now it’s my turn.”

  Ian grabbed the back of Hines’ collar and scruffed him like a mangy kitten. Hines grunted.

  “Back off,” Levi said, “you don’t want to do this.”

  “There’s nothing I want more.” Ian pushed Levi away. Levi must have recognized the murderous intent in Ian’s eyes, because the big man raised his hands, not wanting any part of a pissed off Ian.

  Ian spun Hines around, and Hines’ head bobbed on his shoulders, smacking against the brick with a hollow sound that Ian felt more than heard. Blood dripped from what look like a well-broken nose, and Hines’ eyes threatened to roll back into his head—at least the one eye that hadn’t almost swollen closed already. “You slimy sonofabitch.”

  Shaking him again, Hines didn’t put up any fight, his arms hanging limply at his sides, his knees buckling. If Ian hadn’t had a tight grip on Hines’
shirt, the man might have crumpled to his knees. That didn’t keep Ian’s fist from forming or his arm from rearing back. At the last second, Levi caught Ian’s arm, spoiling a punishing punch.

  “I told you to back off,” Ian spit out. He considered Levi a friend, but if he had to go through Levi to get to Hines, he would. The grip Levi had on Ian’s arm tightened. “She’s awake.”

  “Ian, no.” Cora’s voice came out scratchy and weak.

  How Ian heard her over the sirens and the storm of footfalls as the sheriff’s deputies and paramedics flowed into the alley, he’d never know.

  He locked eyes with her, Hines momentarily forgotten. He shoved Hines away, and Levi must’ve caught the man because Ian never heard a thud.

  Pushing past the deputies, Ian knelt beside Cora as she struggled to sit up.

  “Easy,” a paramedic said. “I want to make sure nothing’s broken.”

  “I’m okay, I’m okay.” Cora swayed, and Ian caught her, bracing his weight behind her.

  “You don’t seem okay. Be a good girl and let this guy check you out.”

  When Cora cut him a look at the ‘good girl’ comment, Ian knew no permanent damage had been done.

  A hint of a smile curved her lips. “You’re gonna to pay for that remark, buddy.”

  Ian cupped her face and pressed his forehead to hers “I look forward to it.”

  14

  The paramedics checked Cora out. A deputy got her statement. Somewhere in all the confusion, Scottie’s sorry, stinking, betraying ass got hauled off to jail. Cora had no idea how much time had passed, only that it was late, and the rodeo grounds were dead quiet.

  As Ian gingerly handed her up into his camper, Cora knew there were a lot of things she should be feeling, wired being the least of them.

  “You ready for bed?” Ian asked, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.

  “No,” she said. “But you go ahead. You look beat.”

  Ian’s eyes softened at the word ‘beat’ and he reached out, cupping both of her cheeks. He pressed a brutally gentle kiss to her split lip. She sank into him and he held her there in the middle of his camper, as he pressed kiss after kiss to the side of her head, to her neck, her shoulder. Not as if he wanted to get it on, but as if he needed the constant reassurance that she’d survived relatively unscathed, besides the mild headache, a few bumps and bruises, and a scrape at her temple that the paramedics had cleaned and bandaged.

  Scottie hadn’t fared as well. Last she’d heard, the deputies had to detour to the hospital on their way to taking him to jail.

  Physically, she’d heal in no time. Emotionally, she felt drained, but on edge. The reality of what happened would certainly hit at some point. Mentally, she prepared herself for that time to come, but right now, she needed not to think about it.

  “Come sit with me,” he said as he took a step back and held out his hand. She appreciated the way he stuck by her, supported her. Not just in the save her ass kind of way she still needed to thank him for, but with his emotional support.

  Ian wasn’t the kind of guy that got off telling her ‘I told you so’. He’d be the one to say, ‘we’ll deal with this together.’

  She’d miss this when it came time for him to leave.

  Taking his hand, she said, “I don’t deserve you.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. I think we both deserve exactly what we have and what we’ve built.” His features softened, and he got a look on his face as if he wanted to say more.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I...” Then he gave her a sad, contemplative smile as if he couldn’t be sure what he’d wanted to say would be something she wanted to hear. “Never mind. You’ve had a shit day. It’s nothing that can’t wait.”

  Standing in the confines of the camper, the stench from the alley on her clothes made her eyes water and his nose wrinkle.

  “Why don’t you let me help you get cleaned up,” he said. “I promise to behave myself.”

  Cora looked at the man she’d approached for a friendly fuck because she thought he was safe, only to find out the sexy, compassionate, protective, creative man in front of her, the man she was falling hard for, had the ability to destroy her. Even knowing that, she couldn’t help slapping her hand on the destruct button. “I can’t promise the same.”

  Ian took a step back, pointing a warning finger in her direction. “Behave. Now strip off those clothes while I get the shower running.”

  By the time Cora had undressed and stuffed her dirty, stinky clothes into a garbage bag for a trip to the laundromat later, Ian had removed the photos he’d had drying in the shower and put his enlarger away.

  “You still have your clothes on,” Cora said as Ian ushered her into his pill box of a shower.

  “There’s no way the two of us will fit. Relax and let me do all the work.”

  As much as she’d like a naked Ian in the shower with her, the idea of his soapy hands roaming all over her body completely turned her on. “If you insist.”

  The hot water tank on the camper wouldn’t last long, so after wetting her down with the detachable shower head, he lathered up his hands and shut the water off. Coral leaned against the back wall and closed her eyes.

  The hot water he’d sprayed on her skin quickly cooled, and goosebumps ran down her body from the tops of her shoulders to the tips of her toes. His hands started with hers and worked their way up her arms to her shoulders, then down her torso. The long, sensuous strokes had her head lolling back and her knees threatening to give.

  He left no inch untouched, her breasts, her buttocks, and more, until it took all her will power not to drag him in with her, clothes and all.

  “If you are trying to get me to relax,” she said, “you’re doing a piss-poor job. All I want to do is touch you. You need to get naked.”

  Ian chuckled, the deep rumble making her shiver as he turned the hot water back on and rinsed her body. She wanted him, needed him, but when she reached out, he gently batted her hand away.

  “This is about doing for you,” he said, “not the other way around. Lean back so I can wash your hair without getting your bandage wet.”

  Her grumble quickly turned to a groan as he worked his fingers into her scalp. “You know, if this whole photography gig doesn’t work out for you, you could totally pimp yourself out as a wet masseuse.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. Considering the night they’d had, it was a good sound to hear. “Is that even a thing?”

  “If not, it should be.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Ian said as he finished rinsing her hair and shut the water off.

  He wrung out her hair and wrapped her in a towel, leaving her to get dressed while he got himself cleaned up. He came out in nothing but a towel. Her hands went to the flap he’d tucked into the roll of terrycloth around his waist.

  “You need to stop,” he said.

  Cora’s hand stilled, one wrist flick away from getting everything she wanted. “I thought you liked—”

  His hands were warm when he took hers. “I like. Plenty. I just think that maybe sex isn’t what you need right now.”

  “Shouldn’t that be my decision?”

  Reaching around her, he snagged a pair of sweatpants off the bed and slid them on before removing the towel.

  “You’re not going to answer me?” Cora asked.

  “I want to put this in a way you’ll understand.”

  “I got a scrape on my head, not brain damage.”

  Ian held up his hands. “That’s not what I meant.”

  Before she could get too pissed off and back away, he leaned against the counter and pulled her between his spread legs, his arms wrapped loosely around her hips.

  “You need to wipe that look off your face,” she said.

  “What look is that?”

  “The one where you look like the parent about to teach a life lesson to their kid.”

  Ian schooled his face. Though Cora debated if she like
d Ian’s new and improved look. “If you were at a bar, and Josephine was too drunk to drive, what would you do?”

  “Take her keys.”

  “What if she insisted that she was fine. That she wanted to drive. Would you let her?”

  Cora knew where Ian was going with this. “I’m not drunk.”

  “But you may not be thinking clearly.”

  That he could maybe have a point, kept Cora from arguing, even if she didn’t entirely agree.

  Ian kissed the tip of her nose. “As your lover and your friend, this is me taking your libido keys.” Then he grinned, that sexy, goofy grin that made her stomach light and her heart do somersaults in her chest. She was so gone with this guy. “But only for the night. If you want to bang like bunnies in the morning, I’m all for it. I promise.”

  She reached down and cupped him and gave him a nice firm stroke through his sweats. Despite his words, his body responded, ready to mutiny. “You may regret that promise.”

  For a moment, his eyes fluttered closed and he bit back a groan, then his grin broke into a full-fledged smile that lit his eyes and transformed his face. “Doubt it.”

  * * *

  Giving Cora’s ass a dismissive pat, Ian said, “Go have a seat. I’ll make us a couple of hot chocolates.”

  Cora settled in at the camper’s kitchen table, dressed for bed in the Mets shirt he’d lent her the first night, and a pair of cut-off sweatpants. She’d ripped the neck out of the T-shirt and it hung off one shoulder, the swell of her breasts pressing against the thin fabric, making his dick impossibly hard.

  Even though he knew he’d done the right thing turning her down, it hadn’t made doing it any easier, not when every second of every day he wanted her more and more.

  The pan of milk on the stove bubbled. He killed the gas and stirred cocoa powder and sugar into a couple of coffee mugs.

  He set the mugs down and settled across the table from her. One by one, she went through the set of photographs he’d left on the table. The story to accompany his entry still needed writing. Considering what had happened that night, he found the motivation to do so difficult to find.