For what?
For him to be the first one to speak? To explain?
Near as he could tell, they were the ones who had a helluva lot of explaining to do.
He turned his focus to the man. Probably in his early sixties. He wasn’t tall; he wasn’t short, just average height. Solidly built, not fat, not skinny, not muscular, not wiry, but his carriage and clothing screamed physical laborer. He had a full head of black hair randomly streaked with silver. When Gavin met the man’s eyes, blue eyes identical to the ones staring back at him in the mirror every day, he quickly looked away. Which allowed him to direct his attention to the woman.
Again, she was average height. A little on the plump side. Her hair was short, curly as if she’d recently had a perm, a rich dark brown as if she’d recently colored it. She wore her age more obviously than the man did, crinkly frown lines by her mouth, on her forehead and beside her eyes, as if she’d spent her life worrying. Despite Gavin’s initial judgment of dowdiness, she wore trendy eyeglasses and dressed in a style he’d call country chic. She appeared the type who’d give out hugs, cookies and advice. She didn’t look like the type of woman who’d give away her child.
The man put his arm around the woman’s shoulder. “Something I can help you with?”
“Yes. Are you Charles McKay and Violet Bennett McKay?”
They exchanged a look. “Yes, we are. Who wants to know?”
“Me.”
“And who are you?”
Gavin took a deep breath. “I believe I’m your son.”
Chapter Thirty
The crowd roared behind him, ready to party at the PBR on a Saturday night.
Chase braced himself. The PBR’s newest female reporter, a fiery redhead named Lissa, stuck the microphone in his face as soon as he cleared the contestant gate. He’d been expecting it since he’d avoided an on camera interview last night. To ensure his cooperation, the cameraman blocked him in. Bastard.
“We’re here with Chase McKay after that amazing ninety-one point ride on Devil’s Due. Congratulations, Chase, that’s gotta feel good to be back on top.”
He focused on the woman and not the camera. “It does. Especially after an extended break and such a poor showing in Dallas.”
“Tell us about the ride.”
“Well, Devil’s Due is an ornery little cuss and highly unpredictable, so I wasn’t sure if he’d go into spin mode tonight or hopscotch around. Luckily I was able to stay with him no matter what he did.”
“So the past few weeks you’ve been off the tour to deal with a recurrence of your shoulder injury from last year. Are you still having issues?”
“Not at all. The time off allowed me to find my focus again.”
“And how did you accomplish that?”
“I went back to basics. Tried to fix what wasn’t working with my ridin’. I was fortunate to have two former PRCA bull riders helpin’ me get back on track.”
“It appears to’ve worked, since you’re seated first.”
“Thanks. The thing I learned, or maybe relearned, is to focus on the bull I’m on and not worry about the next bull or the money or the points or where I might land on the leader board.”
“Good advice that’s obviously paid off. Two questions. You’ve come back to the PBR tour more confident and more aggressive. And it’s interesting to see you’ve swapped out your usual black cowboy hat for a safety helmet. Why?”
“This is a dangerous sport, and any time a rider has a chance to protect himself with additional safety equipment, I’m all for it. I’ve had a couple of close calls in recent years. I’ve witnessed horrible accidents with other riders that would’ve been preventable had the rider worried less about appearances and more about safety.”
“Spoken like a new convert.” Lissa flashed a dazzling smile—a sign she was about to go in for the kill. “Last question, and I’m sure your fans are dying to get the scoop, straight from the source. You’ve recently been spotted with actress Ava Cooper. Is love in the air?”
“Like my brother Ben has been reminding me, a gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”
She laughed provocatively. “Can you at least say whether there’s a chance we’ll be seeing Miss Cooper cheering you on in the stands at future PBR events?”
Not a snowball’s chance in hell because I’m a freakin’ idiot wasn’t an approved PR response, so he managed a curt, “You never know who’ll show up.”
Lissa ended the interview. He scaled the risers to watch the remaining action; aware the cameras would keep cutting to him because he was sitting in first place with only seven riders to go.
He bullshitted with the guys while he waited to help his buddy, Dirk, pull his rope. Other riders seemed surprised he stuck around. Used to be, Chase didn’t make much time for riders outside his circle of four or five since he’d been so focused on finding a buckle bunny to hook up with after the event.
Getting to know Ryan, even for a brief amount of time, had changed Chase for the better in so many ways.
Dirk was up next. Chase held the bull rope taut while Dirk rosined his glove. Soon as Dirk had his wrap, Chase and another rider named Reese kept Dirk upright on the bull by holding his vest. Dirk yelled, “Go!” and the gate opened.
Everything went wrong from the moment the bull exited the chute. His massive rear end smacked into the barricade, immediately sending Dirk sideways. Dirk started to right himself on the next rapid fire jump, but the bull’s head reared up the same time Dirk’s body bounced forward. The side of Dirk’s face connected with the bull’s skull, knocking Dirk out completely. But his hand was hung up in the rope.
Chase stared in horror as Dirk’s unmoving body dangled and was jerked about, his bloody face continually smacked into the bull’s side. Twice Dirk narrowly missed the horn piercing his face.
Seemed like an eternity before the bullfighters freed Dirk’s hand and got him out of harm’s way. But Dirk wasn’t moving and the sports medicine team was hustling out.
Just like Ryan.
No, goddammit, this was not happening again. For some reason, Chase glanced up and saw the images of Dirk’s bloody, battered face splashed across the big screens.
“Fucking vultures.”
Before Chase thought it through, he jumped down from the chute and raced across the arena. The bullfighters didn’t try and stop him as he put himself between Dirk and the camera, with a snarled, “Back. Off.”
“I’m just doing my job, man. Move.”
“No.”
“Move.”
“Make me.”
The cameraman dodged and weaved. So did Chase.
Chase crowded him, so the only thing the camera picked up was an extreme close up of Chase’s vest. Which forced the cameraman to shuffle back, which is exactly what Chase wanted.
“Let me do my job.”
“Film something else because you’re not getting close to him. I’ll bust that camera into a dozen pieces and throw it and you in the dirt.”
“I’ll see that you’re suspended for this.”
“And I’ll see you’re fined for exploiting the images of a head trauma. But you wouldn’t have as many of these images to splash across the big screen if the PBR stepped up and mandated all riders wear safety helmets.”
The cameraman stopped trying to circumvent Chase and kept the camera trained on him.
“Does a PBR bull rider have to die from head injures on camera in full gory detail before changes are enforced? Haven’t we learned after what happened to Lane Frost? Only after the shock of his death were protective vests made mandatory for bull riders. It makes me sick to think that another bull rider will have to die before we start protecting their heads as well as their hearts.”
“Dirk is a friend of yours?”
“This is not just about Dirk. It’s about all bull riders in all professional rodeo organizations. A few weeks back the world lost a promising young man, a friend of mine, because he wasn’t wearing a helmet. And now he’s�
�” Chase looked away, fighting the hitch in his voice and squeezing back angry tears. “He’s dead. Would a helmet have made a difference? Without a doubt. But no one made him wear it, so he didn’t. But he sure as hell had the vest on. Didn’t do a damn thing to save his head.”
The stretcher was airborne and the sports medicine team hustled out to scattered applause. Chase jogged after them, ignoring the cameraman’s shouts.
Once they reached the bowels of the arena where no cameras were allowed, Chase swallowed the lump of fear. “How bad?”
“Concussion. Broken nose. Possibly a shattered cheekbone. They’ll know more after he’s admitted and tests are run.”
A garage door rolled up and an ambulance backed in. Chase forced his feet to move as he headed for his truck. The last thing he wanted was to deal with the other riders and the PBR officials about his impromptu speech. Chances were good it’d been cut out of the TV broadcast. But plenty of people had seen it live. And it wouldn’t be the first time his actions ended up on YouTube courtesy of personal video devices.
That made him think of Ava. Everything made him think of her. Christ, he missed that woman. He hated how it ended. So abruptly. With such anger. With such a feeling of betrayal. Although she’d tried to explain, he’d been too irate to listen to her excuses.
Hours later, Chase left the hospital and climbed in his truck. With all that’d gone on, he hadn’t checked his phone since before the event. No messages or calls from Ava. Two from Elroy. Four from Ben. That quickened his pulse. Ben never left a message and he’d left…four? Since seven o’clock tonight?
Midnight in Wyoming. He dialed anyway.
Ben answered on the second ring. “Hey, little bro. Thanks for calling me back.”
“I know it’s late—”
“I figured it would be, with your buddy Dirk getting stomped and your tirade on TV.”
“Shit. They didn’t cut to commercial?”
“Nope. But I’m not calling you to rib you about that. Something has come up and you need to come home right away.”
His heart dropped to his toes. “What happened? Is it Dad? Or Mom?”
Ben sighed. “Both. They asked me to call since you don’t always get back to them after they’ve left a message.
Guilt kicked him in the ass.
“They wanna to talk to us. And they’ve refused to discuss what it is until we’re all in the same room.”
“That’s goddamn cryptic. What could be so important they can’t tell us over the phone?”
“Whatever it is, it came up awful damn quick. No warning, no nothin’.”
“So you and Quinn haven’t been mulling it over a few days and just decided to contact me?” Not that Chase would blame them for holding back because they knew he preferred no contact until a PBR event ended.
“Nope. Look, we all watched you tonight. Heckuva ride. You deserve to be in first place and have a good shot of winning the whole event.” Ben paused. “I’m sure Mom and Dad will understand if you can’t make it.”
What Ben was too kind to say? Mom and Dad will understand because they’re used to you disappointing them.
After hearing the worry in Dirk’s brother’s voice and his promise to get to Wichita as soon as possible, Chase felt the full weight of his choice to keep his family at arm’s length these last few years. If the situation was reversed, and Dirk was making the call to his family, who in his family would hop in the car and drive all night?
Quinn? Yes.
Ben? Yes.
His folks? Absolutely.
And probably any other McKay relation he called.
They were just that way. They might fight like cats and dogs, but when it came down to it, family was everything. And he would do everything to reclaim his place in his family.
“Chase?”
“I’m here. Just figuring the logistics. If I leave now, I can be there by noon tomorrow. Is that early enough?”
“You’re really not gonna compete in the final round and you’re coming home?” Ben said with total shock.
“Hard to believe, but yeah. I’ve realized there are more important things than those eight seconds I spend on the back of a bull. I ain’t gonna be the one who lets Mom and Dad down.”
Ben was very quiet.
“What?”
“You have changed. I’m looking forward to seein’ you. Drive safe.”
Immediately after Chase hung up he called Elroy.
“You’d better not be calling me to bail you outta jail, McKay,” Elroy barked.
“Good morning to you too, sunshine. I’ll keep this brief. I have a family emergency in Wyoming and I’m taking off right now.”
“Wait. Hold on. You’re leaving Wichita? Chase. Did it escape your notice that you’re in first place?”
“No, it didn’t, trust me. But it can’t be helped.”
Elroy sighed. “You’re looking at your first event win in over a year. On your first tour stop after the suspension. How can you walk away from that?”
“My family needs me.”
“That puts us in a helluva bind, especially after the stuff you spewed on live camera tonight.”
“Not my problem. I said my piece, I meant what I said and I won’t issue a retraction. If the PBR wants to add a disclaimer that I spoke on my own behalf, and not on behalf of the organization, that’s fine.”
“You sure you’re not making a calculated move? Leaving abruptly to build the buzz? And adding to the speculation you’re involved with Ava Cooper since she wasn’t at the event with you?”
Chase counted to twenty before he spoke. “That bullshit PR spin stuff is suited for your devious mind, Elroy, not mine. I’d rather get on a bull tomorrow afternoon, win the event and pick up a big, fat check than spend twelve hours in my truck driving home to deal with family issues. As far as Ava, she’s not a topic of discussion. Ever.”
Elroy laughed. “The one time you’ve actually got a decent hook-up that could be worth great press for months to come, you’re telling me…no?”
“I’m telling you fuck no.” Chase hung up. He stopped at the first convenience store and loaded up on Rockstar Energy drinks and sunflower seeds. When he saw the bag of red licorice he automatically threw it in the pile, like he always did, only realizing when he reached the truck his licorice-eating copilot wasn’t there.
It’d be a long goddamn drive without her.
No, it’ll be a long goddamn life without her.
Chapter Thirty-One
Chase pulled into Ben’s driveway at eleven a.m. Ace and Deuce greeted him with wagging tails, bumping into his knees expecting to be petted.
Ben opened the door and the dogs beat him inside. “Coffee’s on.”
“Good.” He adjusted his duffel. “Lemme shower and I might feel almost human.”
He was down to one clean pair of jeans and one clean shirt. Maybe Ben would let him throw in a couple loads of laundry. The last time he’d washed clothes was with Ava,
During the drive he’d rehearsed everything he wanted to say to her. And he’d say it to her face. In California, depending on what shook loose from this family meeting.
Ben sat at the enormous bar, staring into a mug of coffee. Chase poured himself a cup and joined his brother.
“So you honestly have no idea what’s goin’ on?”
“No. But I’m thinkin’…wouldn’t it suck if Dad found out he has cancer right after he retired?”
“Yeah. My thoughts ran along those same lines.”
They drank their coffee in silence.
“So you and Ava Cooper, huh?”
“Seems impossible, don’t it?”
“Not really. I knew you were done for when you listed all the great things about her and then swore you weren’t gonna drag her to bed the first chance you got.”
Chase looked up. “Not banging her is an indicator of…?”
“Come on, brother, say the word. Love. You’re in love with her.”
“No lie.”
“Does she know?”
“I told her. But that was before I freaked out and said some stupid shit. Then she said stupid shit back and I left to rejoin the PBR.”
“How long ago was this?”
“What day’s today?”
“Sunday.”
“It all went to hell on Tuesday. Damn. Seems longer than that.”
“Time to cool off is rarely a bad thing.”
When Ben retreated, Chase looked around. That’s when he noticed two items on the far edge of the bar. A short-handled whip and a collar with a chain attached. What the fuck did Ben use those for? Did he even want to know?
Hell yes he wanted to know.
So when Ben returned, Chase said, “What’s up with the whip and collar?”
“What?”
Chase pointed. “Over there. Did you forget to put away your bondage toys when you finished with them?”
Ben went very still.
“Come on, Ben. I was joking.”
He relaxed. “I know. Guess it’s a good thing I didn’t leave out the leather restraint straps and the caning set. That really would’ve made you look at me funny.”
Chase stared at him because it didn’t seem Ben was joking. And how could he rattle off that type of S&M stuff anyway?
The dogs barked and Quinn stepped inside. “Hey. You guys ready?”
“Ready as we’ll be, considering we’re goin’ in blind.”
The drive to their parents’ house was filled with nervous chatter. They pulled up behind a Lexus with South Dakota plates.
“I thought this was supposed to be a family only meeting?” Chase said.
“It is. Let’s go.”
Quinn led the way into the ranch house they’d grown up in. Their parents sat side by side at the dining room table, across from a guy who seemed familiar, but also ill at ease.
“Hello, boys,” their mother said. “Have a seat. Would you like coffee?” When she began to get up, Dad curled his hand over hers. “It’s okay, Vi. They know where the coffeepot is.”
Quinn offered the man his hand first. “Quinn McKay.”
The man stood. “Gavin Daniels.” He shook hands as Ben and Chase introduced themselves.
Chasin' Eight: Rough Riders, Book 12 Page 33