The Ranger's Rodeo Rebel (8 page)

Chapter Nine

Caro thought she'd misheard him.

“Excuse me?”

“I heard a gunshot just as Rio started to buck.”

Shot.

She jumped to her feet.

“Hey!”

She ignored him.
Rio.

She didn't know the man who had come up alongside of the gelding, leaned over and caught the reins. She ran toward him and Rio, searching the horse for blood, for a limp, for some sign of injury.

“Caro!”

She didn't stop, despite her aching foot and shoulders. Plus, she was pretty certain she'd have a massive bruise on her hip tomorrow. She ignored it all because if Rio had been shot...

“You okay?” the cowboy who held Rio's reins asked. The man, who seemed vaguely familiar, stared down at her with a look of concern and kindness.

“Fine.” Her words came out in a rush, as if she could slow down time by speeding up her words. “Easy, Rio.”

She placed her hands against his brown coat. He'd begun to sweat, his bay color stained a darker shade. His veins were distended. His sides expanded and contracted quickly.
Shock?
A quick scan didn't reveal any noticeable injuries. Maybe Chance had been wrong—

There.

On the point of his butt, right next to his tail, a small swelling.

“Do you see anything?”

She glanced at Chance, who had come up behind her. She saw the worry in his eyes. She pointed to Rio's injury in response, moving in for a closer look. It had started to swell, but there was no blood. No hole, either, where the bullet might have gone in. In fact, the wound looked more like a bee sting than a bullet wound.

“Are you sure he was shot?”

“Shot?” said the man who still held Rio's reins. “Are you serious?”

“I thought I heard something, too,” said another cowboy. “A
crack
right as her horse started to bolt.”

“Must have startled him,” surmised the first man, tipping the brim of his straw hat. “That's why he started to buck.”

“No,” Chance said. “He was shot
at
.”

“Shot at?” the cowboy said in disbelief. “As in someone fired a bullet at him?” He shook his head. “No one's going to shoot at a horse, not at a rodeo.”

Carolina tried to remain calm. A person would do that if he were angry because she'd broken up with him. If he wanted to hurt her because she'd dared to go to the police. If he were enraged because she'd threatened to publicize what he'd done to her.

“There's no bullet hole,” said one of the men.

“No, there's not,” she mused, turning toward Chance in question.

“Because he wasn't shot with a rifle.” Chance's gaze encompassed them all. “It was an air gun. I could hear the hiss of the cartridge when it discharged.”

“You some kind of gun expert, then?” the man in the straw hat asked.

Chance nodded. “I was an Army Ranger. Combat active. Discharged two weeks ago.”

That shut the man up, and it explained a lot to Caro, too. That's why Rio was swollen and not bleeding. The bump was a welt. She straightened suddenly as a new thought penetrated.

Did James watch them?

“He's gone,” Chance said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “There's no way he'd stick around, not after watching you get back up. He knows you're okay.”

“Which means he might be back.”

“I don't think he wants you dead.” He shook his head. “It's like I said. Some men can't take rejection. But James is not stupid. He just wants to see you scared.”

“Someone trying to hurt you?” asked the cowboy.

James had already hurt her. And now he'd hurt her again. And almost her horse. She wanted to cry, except she didn't. She took a deep breath and said, “My ex.”

The answer seemed to satisfy the man, because he pulled the brim of his hat down low, as if preparing to face someone on a most-wanted poster. “If someone's trying to hurt you, Carolina, I'll tell a few of the boys. Nobody will get near this arena again. Not without us checking them out.”

“What about tonight?” she asked. “What about when Slack starts in an hour or so? What about when I perform?” And as she said the words, emotion built inside her. “He's not going to stop just because people are around. He's insane. Crazy.” Just like Chance had said he was.

And he'd tried to hurt her horse.

Funny how you could go around blaming yourself. How you could deal with someone doling out punches. Live with it, even, but when that same someone tried to injure an animal you loved...

She looked at Chance. “I'll be right back.”

“Where are you going?”

Pain shot up her leg as she turned away, but she didn't care. Rio could have been hurt from that shot, no matter that it was a rubber bullet, a pellet or whatever kind of projectile James had used. If it'd hit Rio in the wrong spot—the eye, maybe.

“I'm calling the police.” She paused, turned back to face the men. “And then I'm going to call the local media. And then I'm going to hire a hit man to kill that son of a bitch.”

Chance's brow lifted. It brought the edge of his cowboy hat up, so she could perfectly see the play of emotion in his eyes. Surprise. Dismay. Mostly though, she spotted approval.

“Attagirl.”

* * *

C
HANCE
SMILED
.
She was true to her word, not that any of her calls amounted to much of anything.

“We'll have an extra patrol run by the rodeo grounds tonight,” said a black-clad officer who didn't look old enough to shave, much less own a gun. “In the meantime, I'll call VDC PD and see what they can do on their end.”

Carolina nodded at the young officer. “Anything you can do to help.”

Help? This kid didn't know how to help. He'd probably never discharged his weapon anywhere other than the firing range, much less in the line of duty. Yet Caro appeared to be strangely reassured by the man's words.

It irritated the heck out of Chance.

“What's going on here?”

They both turned, and Chance was relieved to see his brother. “Something wrong?” Colt asked.

Chance had tried to call him earlier, but he'd only gotten Colt's voice mail, and he refused to leave messages when someone was driving.

“James shot my horse,” Carolina stated.

“What?” Colt glanced between them. “Is Rio okay?”

“He's fine,” Chance answered. “It was an Airsoft rifle, probably. Rubber pellet. We found it after searching for an hour. Rio has a welt the size of a grapefruit on his rear. He'll be fine. When we get back to the ranch tomorrow, I'll have Ethan take a look at it to be certain, but I'm pretty sure it's just bruised.”

His future brother-in-law, Ethan, was a veterinarian. He'd know what to do, and that made her feel a little bit better.

“That does it,” Colt said, looking as angry as a stepped-on rooster. He jerked his hat off his head. “That son of a bitch is going down.”

“We've got things handled, sir,” said the kid cop.

Colt ignored him. “Carolina, on Monday I'm taking you straight down to the courthouse and you're filing suit against him. I don't know what you can charge him with, but something's got to be better than nothing.”

“Don't worry. I plan to do more than that,” Caro said, hands on her hips.

Chance suspected James had crossed an invisible line with her. Good. She needed to realize this was a serious matter. He hadn't been kidding when he'd said men could do horrible things to women they professed to love.

“In the meantime, Chance, you're not to leave her side.” His brother's gaze fell on him.

Chance cocked a thumb at Carolina. “Tell her that.”

“I know,” she said, her face grim. “I'm sorry. Chance has been trying to keep an eye on me, but I didn't want to be a bother. Believe me, I'll be more careful now.”

“And I'll be more alert.”

Chance was mad at himself for taking his eyes off their surroundings. For watching Caro as she practiced. He should have scouted the perimeter before she rode. Should have insisted she forgo practicing. It wasn't as though she didn't know the routine. She could have sat out one practice session, but he never would have thought James...

“She could have been killed falling off her horse,” Colt said the same thing he'd been thinking.

And if Caro had been seriously injured, he would never have forgiven himself. As it was, he felt a deep, rolling rage. James had clearly wanted her to be bucked off, and something else, too.

Chance stroked his jaw. Something about the whole situation was off. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but it was the same kind of feeling he got when a group of insurgents showed up at a strange and obscure location. There was always a method to a crazy man's madness.

“I think it's safe to say your assailant won't be back,” said the baby boy in blue—an Officer Walker. “Men like him usually run scared after they've made a move.”

Chance tried not to laugh. As if Officer Walker had been on the force long enough to make that assumption. However, Chance would bet the cop was right. There were enough cowboys and cowgirls pissed off about the whole thing that James would be stupid to try something again. Too many people on alert now.

“Here's the plan,” Chance said to the group, splaying his hand in Caro's direction. “You're not performing tonight. Delilah can take your place.”

“What?”
Caro's mouth dropped open. She looked toward his brother as if he could help change Chance's mind, and that irritated Chance all the more.

“She doesn't know the new routine,” Chance added, “but she can figure it out. She's watched you enough times.”

“My brother's right,” Colt said. “We can't take any chances. You're grounded until further notice, and you—” he turned to Chance “—you're going to stick to her like glue. I'll sleep in Bill's trailer tonight. I don't want any gossip starting about a single girl sharing a trailer with two men. You and Caro can take mine again.”

It quickly became clear that Caro wasn't just mad, she was livid. Two hours later, as the crowd cheered in the distance for the Galloping Girlz and their new routine, Caro prowled around the interior of the trailer like one of the military dogs his sister cared for.

“This is ridiculous,” she said after pacing across the length of the trailer for the tenth time. “There's a million people out there. James wouldn't dare try and pull something tonight.”

“Just the same, you're staying in here.”

“What about tomorrow?” She shook her head in aggravation, her blond hair flying over her shoulders. “Am I supposed to sit around all day?”

“Think of it as a vacation.”

“I should go home.”

“And be at the ranch all by yourself? I don't think so.”

She released an oath of frustration. “Natalie would be there.”

Her eyes implored him to see reason. Wasn't going to work.

“And your sister's not far away,” she added.

He shook his head, emphatically so she got the point. “I'm not willing to jeopardize their safety because you're bored.”

She drew up short. Clearly, she hadn't thought that far ahead. A second later, she flounced down on the couch opposite him.

“I can't stand being pent up like this.”

He reached behind him and stretched his arms. “Then do something productive with all that energy.”

“Like what?”

It was one of those things—a suggestion he hadn't known he was going to propose, and something he probably shouldn't mention. “Training.”

She cocked a brow at him, and with her hair down and loose around her shoulders and her black T-shirt clinging to her every curve, he began to doubt the soundness of his suggestion. He should be keeping away from her, not planting ideas in her head.

“What do you mean?” she asked when he failed to explain.

Don't do it. Do not do it. You know how uncomfortable she makes you feel. Touching her will only complicate matters.
He'd had enough fantasies about her last night.

“Self-defense.”

The voice inside his head groaned, but he couldn't ignore the fact that she needed training. Pepper spray only went so far. If that bastard ex of hers was crazy enough to shoot at her horse, no telling what else he would do. And if he ever caught her off guard, if he managed to surprise her one night at the ranch, she wouldn't have time to get out her spray or arm herself with a weapon. Today was proof of that. So if Chance taught her a few of the moves he'd learned in the army, she might have a fighting chance.

“You should learn to protect yourself.”

Oh, yeah?
asked the voice.
Who's going to protect you?

“You mean learn karate or something?”

“You don't need karate. There's a lot you can do with just your hands.”

And if he needed proof of what a bad idea this whole thing was, those words sure did seal the deal, because there was a lot she could do with her hands...and he wished she'd do it all to him.

Chapter Ten

She should have said no.

Later that evening, Carolina wondered what the hell she'd gotten herself into. At least, she'd been granted a momentary reprieve. She had been downright embarrassed earlier. When the girls had returned, Lori had banged on the door, shouting, “Whadda ya guys doing in there?”

Carolina had wanted to die. Despite telling Chance she didn't care what everyone thought, she didn't want to be thought of as a floozy – shacking up with the boss's brother. Although word would spread quickly that she had an issue with an ex, so she probably had nothing to worry about.

“Now, remember, you're never going to win if you're facing a man with a gun.”

They stood between the two trailers, in an area shielded from people passing by, the grass in between them trampled from their feet.

“I know,” she said, nervously tucking her hands into her pockets.

“The best thing to do if that happens is run. But not straight. Zigzag. Do the unexpected. And dive behind something if you can.”

She nodded. It was late. The rodeo had ended long ago. Colt had gone off to tend to the horses. The girls had fled somewhere else...probably to the local bar. That left her and Chance alone, the sun at an angle that lit the tops of the trees on fire, the sky a yellow orange that would have taken her breath away if she wasn't already breathing hard in anticipation of what they were about to do. It was ridiculous. It wasn't as though Chance would hurt her. He was going to teach her to keep from being hurt.

“The first thing I'm going to teach you is how to deflect a punch.”

Whoo boy. That was training she could have used a while ago. And it was crazy, because merely thinking about that night made the lip James had split in two hurt. The memory was so powerful it was all she could do not to run away. Her heart ran away instead.

Despite her feelings, Carolina held her ground. Damn that James. Damn any man that would try and hurt her.

“Do I use my arms?” It was what she'd done the night James attacked her. She had lifted her arms and used them to cover her face...

“No. Not quite. But first things first. If someone comes at you this way—” Chance stepped in her direction, and she flinched slightly, which was ridiculous, because she didn't have anything to fear from Chance. His eyes narrowed.

“I'm not going to hurt you,” he said quietly.

“I know.”

He stared at her in concern, and it made her breath catch just as it had yesterday. How could a man be such a warrior on the outside and so warm and tender on the inside?

Chance tilted his head. “If this brings back too many memories, we can stop.”

“No. I need to learn this.”

“Good,” he said. “Because if you listen to me closely, from here on out, you'll be the one in control. No one will ever hit you again, I promise.”

She looked down at the ground to hide her eyes. Despite her earlier anger, she wanted to cry again, and she hated that. She was not the crying type. Never had been. Never would be. And yet somehow, she'd become Pitiful Pearl—in the flesh—and damned if she knew how she'd gotten that way.

She sucked in a deep breath. “Okay. Show me again.”

For the longest time, his eyes roved over her face, as if trying to decide if he should trust her words.

“Bend your arms up like this,” he said at last. “Like a crossing guard holding a sign.”

She followed his instructions.

“Good. Now. When I come at you—” he stepped even closer “—you move your arm like I showed you. Are you ready?”

Another deep breath, one that seemed to stoke the fires of determination in her heart. She could do this. She was not the sniveling ninny James had reduced her to. She could trust this man.

“Ready?”

He swung a fist in her direction. She deflected it. Easily. Quickly.

“Good job.”

And the victory she felt, the euphoria at deflecting his swing, made her feel—well, she couldn't help but smile. It felt good to take charge.

“Do it again,” she told him.

He swung once more, faster. She moved quicker this time, and the maneuver worked the same way. So easy. So simple. With practice she probably wouldn't have to think about it.

“That was great,” she said. Never again would she find herself cowering before a man, letting him hit her, being afraid for her life.

Chance smiled his approval, and she thought it was a crying shame no woman had caught his interest. With his masculine skills and easy smile, half her teammates wanted to go after him. Half of Natalie's clients seemed enamored with him, too. She didn't blame them.

“Now,” he continued, “sometimes people will try and grab you when they realize you can deflect a punch. I'm going to teach you some pressure points that will help deter anyone who tries to grab you. The first one is here.” He pointed to his wrist. “Right above the bone. If you dig your thumb in, you'll bring a man down. Trust me.” He offered her his arm, motioning for her to try it.

“I don't want to hurt you.”

“It's okay. I'm going to swing again, only this time when you deflect, I'll grab you, too. You clutch my wrist and press as hard as you can where I showed you.”

For some reason, she crouched. He grinned, and she had the inexplicable urge to do something crazy—like laugh. Instead she waited.

He came at her fast. She deflected. He grabbed. She pressed.
Hard.

“Ow, ow, ow.” He dropped to the ground. She released immediately. He sucked in a breath.

Carolina gulped. “Oh, my goodness. Did I hurt you?” She closed the distance between them. When he stood and bent his head to examine his wrist, they were only inches away.

“No, I'm good. You just surprised me, is all.”

He looked up at the same time she did, and they were face-to-face, his breath on hers and her breath on him. His eyes peered down at her so softly, she couldn't believe how it felt to have him there, next to her. Exciting. Reassuring. Peaceful.

“Well, good,” she mumbled. “I'm glad.” She looked away, because her heart had begun to beat so hard she was sure he could see it. Or maybe he heard it thundering in her ears.

“Okay. Yeah. Well.” He stepped back. “There's one more maneuver I'd like to show you.”

He clenched his hands, and she wondered if he'd felt it, too, that moment when the ground beneath her feet seemed to slide off the side of the earth and it was all she could do not to hang on.

To him.

She wanted to hold him.

“Turn around,” he said.

Did he still feel it, she hoped, as she blindly followed his instructions. And then he was there, right there, up behind her, and she could feel the heat of him and she almost groaned.

Oh, holy hell.

She bolted. Spun. Faced him.

“What?” His expression was bewildered.

She didn't know
what
. Something crazy was going on, because she was never going to let a man get close to her again, not even one as nice as Chance.

“I heard a bee,” she lied.

He chuckled. “No bees. Just me.”

It was no use getting attached to Chance. He was leaving soon. Colt had told her a half-dozen times that Chance would only be Stateside long enough to witness the birth of another nephew or niece. Then he was gone. So even if she did like his smile and the kindness in his eyes and the way he made her feel safe and protected, it was temporary.

“Go on,” he urged. “Turn around.”

She didn't want to. She didn't, but she had no choice. He came up behind her again, and everything around them retreated. The two trailers side by side. The people walking by on the road. The horses and dogs that wandered the rodeo grounds. Everything.

“You don't need to be afraid,” he whispered into her ear.

She wasn't afraid. Not even a little.

“I promise not to hurt you.”

No. He would never do that. She knew that with every fiber of her being.

“This is what you do if someone grabs you from behind.”

She tensed because she knew he would touch her, and a second later, his hands were on her shoulders and she almost gasped.

“They'll probably wrap their arms around you.” His hands slid down. She smelled his clean scent—a combination of talc and citrus—and it caused her to close her eyes.

“You'll never break free by trying to use your hands.”

No. She'd learned that lesson the hard way. The thought was a sobering one, and it caused her to sharpen her focus.

“The first thing you do is insert your foot between my legs.”

She did as instructed, which meant their legs touched. Her sharpness faded again at the feel of his rock-hard limbs.
Oh, dear goodness.

“Now, take your elbow and jab it into my ribs.”

“But I—”

“Do it.”

She jabbed. Hard.

The breath gushed out of him. The scent of him faded as he moved away slightly.

“Good,” he wheezed. “Now, this next time, take a step back. So it's leg between, jab and step back. All in one move. Then as he's falling backward, slip down and out of my arms.” He closed the distance again, wrapped an arm around her neck. “Quickly. Do it.”

She hesitated.

“Now.”

She jabbed. He grunted again. She thrust herself back. They both went down.

“Whoa,” he cried, somehow shifting so she landed on top of him. “You forgot the leg.”

They lay belly to belly, breath to breath, and his eyes were full of amusement and something else. Something that made her whole world tilt and her heart soften.

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be.” He tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “You're doing great.”

Everything warmed. Her face. Her skin where they touched. Even...

She rolled away. “I'm no good at this.”

“You will be.” He sat up. “It just takes practice.”

She wasn't talking about self-defense. She was talking about
her
. About her disastrous past. About how she seemed to pick the wrong man or the right man at the wrong time. She met his gaze, and she knew he was the latter. Any woman could see that, even someone as messed up as her.

“Hey,” he said, clearly reading her distress. “It's okay. You'll catch on.”

“I don't think I'm cut out for this. My mom—”

She stopped herself, but he'd caught the words.

“What about your mom?”

She shook her head.

He scooted closer, using a single finger to turn her chin so she faced him.

“What about your mom?”

Carolina hated the fact she'd brought her up. That she was somehow blaming her for her troubles. She'd never been one to point the finger at anyone but herself, and she wasn't about to start now. Still, Carolina couldn't escape the need for the truth in his eyes, and she needed to tell him, if only so he would understand how messed up she was.

“She wasn't the best role model in the world.”

“No?”

“Apparently, I've learned a lot from her.”

That was an understatement. Different men all the time. Some were nice. Some were kind. Some were old and wanted things no man twice her age should want, not from her.

“Don't blame yourself for James.”

“He's exactly the kind of man my mom would bring home.”

“And he's gone from your life.”

“Not yet.”

“But he will be.”

Would he? These days it seemed as though the bad guys were in and out of jail faster than someone could change a tire. And if that happened, if James was arrested for assault and he went to jail and then got out on bail the next day, presuming he would even make it to jail, what then? Who would protect her then? Chance would be long gone. The district attorney had told her it'd be months before James went to trial. Suddenly, Carolina wished with all her might that Chance wasn't going to leave.

“Hey.” He must have read the fear in her eyes because his eyes softened. “It'll be okay.”

It would not. Nothing would ever be okay again. She had only to look into his eyes to know that.

Carolina had fallen for the wrong guy. Again.