11. Jude
11
jude
I t was coming on two hours, and Romy was still in there. It chaffed my skin to watch her walk into the jailhouse without me. I knew I couldn’t go with her, and I was typically a patient man, but fuck , it was hard not to march into the jail demanding to know when she’d return. I felt helpless. I couldn’t protect her while she was in there alone. So I’d wait. It dawned on me then that I’d always be willing to wait for her.
I did my best to occupy myself with the truck radio, walking around the nearly empty parking lot and playing on my phone.
I had several ignored texts from Alex Torres, my coach. The last one came in this morning.
Coach
How’s the knee?
Bored, I went ahead and texted him back.
Me
Getting better all the time.
My cell started ringing in my hand. Coach.
Shit!
“Hello?” I answered tentatively.
“Now you answer!” Alex yelled into the phone.
I grimaced. I was exceptional at avoiding the things I didn’t want to deal with. Coach was one of them because I knew he would ask me to shit or get off the pot.
“There’s a lot going on right now,” I excused.
“No shit! But the least you could do is text me back so I know you’re alive.”
“My bad.”
Alex exhaled into the phone. He was exasperated with me. “Look, I know you’re still rehabbing your knee, but I have some news. The guy who was going to fight Mike Reyes dropped out, so Reyes named you. He wants your belt.”
“Fuck! I hate that guy.” Mike Reyes was the newest, up-and-coming light-heavyweight. He was young, twenty-two, and cocky. And the worst part, he was good. Really good.
“Yeah, me too, but here’s the thing. He wants to win it in the cage—against you. He’s been talking shit online all week, saying you’re broken and he could beat you on the ground.”
Mike Reyes was a Muay Thai and jujitsu guy with a damaging kick who could wrap you up like a python. There was a reason he was so cocky. But his wrestling and boxing were nowhere near what they could be. He couldn’t beat me on the ground and pound, not when I’ve knocked out more experienced Muay Thai guys than him in the past. They throw that leg out, I grab it, take them down, and grind my fists into their face until the ref stops it.
I laughed. “He can dream.”
“I know you’ve been talking about retirement, but the fight organization wants to see this matchup. I’ve been getting pressure from Venture. He wants you to take the fight. Be the top headliner for the August card.”
I scratched the back of my neck, then flipped my baseball cap around. I leaned against the truck, feeling the wind woosh out of me.
Venture—Mr. Kevin Venture—owner of the organization. I still had a contract. He signed my paychecks. Not sure how easily I could get out of this one.
“I don’t know, man.” I stuffed my free hand into my pocket, fiddling with my keys.
Alex cleared his throat. “I know it would be a short training camp. We can talk about it. Can you come to the gym?”
Shit. I didn’t tell anyone, other than my therapist, I was going home.
I clenched my jaw. “See, the thing is … I’m not in Nevada right now.”
“What?” He practically yelled into the phone. “Where are you?”
“I’m dealing with some shit at the ranch and helping my uncle.” I said it through my teeth, apprehensive of his reaction.
“You never go home.”
I trifled with my hat. “I know, but I figured I could recover anywhere, so I’m here.”
“You’re doing physical therapy on a ranch? Are you insane? How can you strengthen a knee while riding a horse?”
“I’m getting it done.”
“I’m booking a flight.”
Oh, God! He couldn’t come here.
“You really don’t have to do that.”
“We’re talking about this in person, and if we’re fighting in August, we need to start training—now!”
I didn’t think I was ready to retire, but I didn’t know if I was ready to get back in the cage, either. Thinking about it made my gut clench and a zing shoot straight to my knee, like I needed to protect it. Timing couldn’t be worse with what was going on at the ranch … and with Romy.
“I can’t convince you not to come, can I?” But I already knew the answer. I scratched the scruff on my jaw.
“Nope. Thornbrush Ranch, right? I’m googling it right now. Yep, found you. I’ll be there tomorrow.”
Tomorrow? The day Romy was supposed to head back to California. I was running out of time with her, and now this.
The building door swung open, and Romy walked out, spotting me leaning against the truck.
“I gotta go,” I announced.
“All right, man. I’ll catch you later. I’ll text you the time you can expect me.”
Great.
“Later,” I said, hurrying to hang up as Romy approached me.
I studied her face, searching for any sign of distress. Instead, she looked pissed.
“Who was that?” she asked. It came out as a command, but I don’t think her anger was directed at me. Something had happened in there.
“No one.”
I didn’t think I wanted to tell her. I didn’t even know if there was anything to tell. I had a feeling she’d tell me I shouldn’t, just like I knew Uncle Chuck would insist I retire, and then ask what the fuck I’m even doing considering it. And damn it, I cared what she thought.
“We have to check on Hazel’s horse, Bronte,” she reported, ignoring my response.
I opened the passenger door for her and moved with quick, long strides around the hood to hop in.
She clasped her hands in her lap, staring straight out the windshield. I could practically feel the heat radiating off her.
“What happened in there? Did she say something?” My voice came out more demanding than I intended.
I gripped the steering wheel. Damn it, Hazel. What did you do? She pissed off my girl—no, not mine , but fuck, I wanted her to be mine, and that fucking pissed me off even more.
Romy was seething. She turned to me, her eyes like flint. My entire body tensed, just like it did right before a fight, and I had to remind myself to breathe and stay calm.
“Do you think she killed him?” Romy asked through clenched teeth.
“I—”
She didn’t even let me answer before she charged in with hers. “I think my sister fucking killed him.”
That was the last thing I thought she would say. I shuddered a breath. I wanted to reach out and grasp her hand, to lend her comfort, but knowing Romy—at least I felt like I still knew her—she never wanted to be touched when she was upset.
“Really? Did she say something?” I asked. My brows pinched.
“My sister may have been the sugary sweet, effervescent rodeo queen we all loved, but if there is anything I know of my sister, she took care of shit. Especially if backed into a corner. Something isn’t sitting right with me, and I think it may be because this was planned. Every bit of it. She knew the bunkhouse would be searched by cops after this. Whatever she has for me she hid in Bronte’s stall. She didn’t want it found in the bunkhouse.”
“There has to be an explanation …”
I couldn’t wrap my mind around Hazel hurting someone, let alone killing them. I remembered her being so vibrant, full of energy, her smile contagious. Always gentle with horses and humans alike. But she was right. Hazel always took the helm when the ship needed to be righted. And this ship was fucking rocky.
“Well,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I think we’re about to find out.”
We pulled up to the stables just as Uncle Chuck came out to greet us. Raised voices could be heard before we even got out of the truck.
Another truck and horse trailer were parked in front of the stables, and directly behind that one was my little cousin, Lina, hanging out of her truck window, her own horse trailer hooked behind, yelling at the man who was glaring at her.
“That’s my fucking spot! It has been for years!”
Romy and I barreled out of the truck, reaching Uncle Chuck.
“Lina,” Uncle Chuck called, “just park there, and we’ll unload Mushu. Then you can park up by the house.”
She threw a glare at her dad before turning back to the man who stood firm by his truck.
“Fine!” She cut the engine and jumped out, slamming the door before joining us by the stables. “Why did you hire this fucking asshat?”
The question was directed at Uncle Chuck. He ignored her, and as soon as Lina noticed Romy and me standing beside him, she squealed, did a little skip, and ran to throw herself into my arms.
“Jude!” She wrapped her arms around my neck. “Oh, my God, Romy!” She leaned toward Romy, wrapping her up into a big group hug.
My arm pressed against the side of Romy’s breast, and I just about jumped out of my skin. Those hot tingles sending my hair on end.
Lina Larsen was still the spitfire I remembered, charging into every situation with a sailor’s mouth, either ready to start a fight or throw a party. She and I had stayed in touch over the years, and Uncle Chuck was constantly bragging about his baby girl. She was a champion barrel racer at eighteen, and she currently held the record for fastest time at the Willows Rodeo.
Now twenty-six years old, she’d grown into a beautiful, young woman. She looked just like early photos of her mother during her buckle bunny days. Her brown hair was pulled back in a braid, nearly reaching her waist. She looked tan and healthy, and she had big, smoky-brown eyes that sparkled when she laughed.
Apparently, grown men saw it as well.
Over Lina’s shoulder, I studied the “asshat.” He leaned against his truck with his arms crossed, his biceps huge beneath his canvas coat, and his eyes were fixed on Lina. His cowboy hat shadowed most of his face, but he appeared to be well into his thirties. His jaw was covered with a tight, brown beard, his mouth set firm in a scowl.
“That’s our new hire,” Uncle Chuck explained. “Hey, Reed! Come on over!”
Lina released Romy and me and stepped away to stand by her dad, her arms automatically crossed, a smug look on her face.
Reed pushed off the truck and walked over to us, his eyes now hidden beneath the brim of his hat, avoiding the judgment of two Larsens. The man was large, a couple inches taller than me, and looked as if he was raised on good ol’ farm grain and beef. He’d fit in with the hands no problem.
“Reed Ownstead, this is my nephew, Jude, and our dear friend, Romy Miller. And it appears you already met my daughter, Lina.” Uncle Chuck made the introductions.
I pushed up my sleeves, revealing my corded, tattooed arms. I put out my hand, gripping Reed’s big mit firmly to let him know who was in charge, and if he so much as looked at my cousin the wrong way, he’d have to answer to me.
“Nice to meet you,” he drawled. At least someone taught him some manners.
The man didn’t smile, his eyes scanning Romy, and I had to consciously keep my body still to refrain from looking like a Paleolithic asshole while Romy shook his hand.
Romy’s eyes flicked to mine before I even realized I released a small growl. I cleared my throat to try and cover it up.
“Lina,” Reed greeted, tipping his hat like a gentleman. He said her name as though he was more familiar with her than he was, and I didn’t like it one bit.
Lina huffed, refusing to shake the man’s hand.
“Reed just moved here from Joseph. His daughter and her mother live here. He wanted to be close by, so we may have a little one on the ranch from time to time,” Uncle Chuck explained, ignoring the obvious tension between his daughter and the new guy.
“Mushu’s been in the trailer for hours, so I need to get him out and rinsed down, especially if I’m going to have to park up at the big house.” Lina shot a pointed look at her dad before walking long strides to her trailer.
“Follow me to the bunkhouse so you can unpack,” Uncle Chuck directed Reed, heading past the stable.
“Nice meeting you both,” Reed volleyed over his shoulder, following Uncle Chuck.
“I don’t think Lina likes him very much,” Romy commented when they were all out of earshot.
“No, I don’t think she does.” I wasn’t sure about him, either.