3. Braxton
brAXTON
The junior queen clinic started at nine, but Addison said she needed to be there at seven-thirty.
I watched her unlock the registration office, flip on the lights, and arrange name tags on folding tables with the kind of focus most people reserved for demolitions work.
Every tag faced the same direction. Every pen lined up exactly where someone's hand would reach for it.
She wore jeans, boots, and a pink fitted western shirt with pearl snaps that caught the early light.
Her hair was pulled back in a braid that trailed down the middle of her back, ending just above her waist. She wasn’t wearing a crown yet but still moved through the space like she ruled every inch of it.
"You always show up this early?" I asked from the entrance.
She glanced over her shoulder. "Do you always stand in doorways looking suspicious?"
"It's called situational awareness."
"It's called looming, and I don’t like it.”
I stepped inside. The space smelled like fresh coffee, printer paper, and the kind of floral perfume that drifted off everything Addison touched.
She handed me a cup of coffee without asking if I wanted one. "Black, no sugar. You look like the type."
I took it. "What type is that?"
"The type who thinks enjoying something is a character flaw." She gave me a wide smile, then turned back to her checklist before I could respond.
Families started arriving a half hour later. Nervous girls in western wear came in followed by parents who already had their camera apps pulled up.
Addison greeted every single one by name. "Karly, I love that buckle. Is it new?"
"Mrs. Peters, thank you so much for volunteering again."
"Emma, your smile is going to knock them out today."
She didn’t hesitate or second guess herself. She just knew.
I stayed back and watched her work until a commotion near the rail pulled my attention away from the gate.
Three of the junior contestants had abandoned whatever they were supposed to be doing and clustered around the biggest wolf I’d ever seen.
I stopped. “Why is there a wolf at a rodeo event?”
Addison followed my stare. “Oh. That’s Hades.”
She said it like that should explain everything.
“Hades.”
“He lives around town.”
“A wolf.”
“He’s friendly.”
One of the girls wrapped both arms around his neck. Hades stood there looking mildly inconvenienced but otherwise content.
“That animal has teeth longer than her fingers.”
Addison laughed and walked over. Hades immediately leaned against her leg. She scratched behind one of his ears. “See? He’s an excellent judge of character.”
“He hasn’t looked at me yet.”
“Exactly.”
I gave her a flat look.
Her smile widened.
Then Hades finally turned his head toward me. We stared at each other for a few seconds. “I don’t like the way he’s judging me.”
“Occupational hazard.”
“For him or me?”
“Both.”
She crouched down to adjust a little girl's sash, tying it in a way that wouldn't slip during the parade. Then she pulled a safety pin from her pocket and fixed another girl’s hemline.
She pointed out the bathrooms, the snack table, the schedule board, and made every overwhelmed parent feel like they were exactly where they needed to be.
By the time the clinic officially started, I got the feeling she'd already solved a dozen problems no one had even noticed existed. Seeing her in her element made me realize that Addison Blake wasn’t just a beauty queen. Her role required much more than that.
The photographer showed up halfway through the morning session. I immediately didn’t like him. He was tall, maybe in his mid-thirties with an expensive camera and a smile that came way too easy. He had on a vest with too many damn pockets and moved through the crowd like he belonged there.
"Addison!"
Addison turned, her smile shifting into something I recognized as the public version… bright, warm, and completely controlled.
"Kyle. I didn't know you'd be covering today."
"I wouldn't miss it. You know I follow all your events." He said it like a compliment, but I sensed his interest underneath.
Kyle stepped into Addison’s space, closer than necessary, leaning in to show her something on his camera screen.
She shifted slightly, putting space between them without making it obvious.
I moved closer.
Kyle glanced up, his smile tightening. "You must be Addison’s new security guard."
"Braxton James."
"Kyle Merritt. I’m a regional photographer. I've been shooting Addison's events for years."
"Is that so?"
"She’s the prettiest rodeo queen in the circuit. Always photogenic. Always makes my job easy." He looked at Addison when he said it, like I wasn't standing right there.
Addison's smile didn't waver. "Kyle's work has been featured in national magazines. He's very talented."
"I'm sure."
Kyle's smile widened at the compliment. "I'll get some shots during the parade rehearsal. We should schedule a formal session soon. I've got some concepts I think you'd love."
"I'll check my schedule."
“Great. I can’t wait.” He leaned in and gave her a quick hug before walking away.
I watched him disappear into the crowd while I cataloged everything about the man who’d just made it to the top of my list of potential suspects.
Addison's jaw tightened, but she turned back to the group of junior queens waiting for her and smiled like nothing had happened.
The parade rehearsal moved outside, where a mock route had been set up through the rodeo grounds. Addison walked the girls through formations, hand positions, how to wave without blocking their faces, and how to smile even when the sun was in their eyes.
I stayed on the perimeter, scanning faces, checking angles, watching for anyone who paid too much attention.
Kyle was there, his camera covering his face, moving through the crowd like he’d been given unlimited access.
A little while later, Addison moved on to a sponsor photo op near the main grandstand. Local businesses lined up with their banners. Addison stood next to a feed company owner, a real estate agent, and a man in a too-tight shirt who owned a truck dealership.
The truck dealer put his hand on Addison's waist. She shifted, but he kept it there.
Then she smiled at the camera, said something polite, and tried to step away. His hand tightened.
Hades lifted his head from where he’d stretched out next to the rail. I got there first, crossing the space in four strides.
"Take your hand off her." My voice stayed low and controlled but everyone within ten feet heard it.
The man blinked, his hand finally dropping. "I was just—"
"You're done."
He looked at Addison, then at me, then back at Addison like he expected her to smooth it over.
She didn't.
"Thank you for supporting the rodeo," she said, her tone pleasant and final.
The group dispersed. The photographer moved on, and the moment passed.
But Addison didn't look at me until we were back inside the operations tent. "I was handling that."
"I know."
"Then why did you interfere?"
I looked at her, taking in her controlled posture, tight smile, and the way she held herself like someone used to managing situations without asking for help.
"Because you shouldn't have to ask twice."
Her expression shifted just enough for something uncertain to flicker across her face before she locked it down again. "People touch me all the time. Sponsors, photographers, fans. It's part of the job."
"Doesn't mean it has to be."
She stared at me like she was trying to figure out if I meant it.
"I'm not trying to control you. I'm trying to make sure you don't have to negotiate your own space every time someone decides they're entitled to it."
Her mouth opened, then closed. She looked away. "Okay."
That was all she gave me, but the tension in her shoulders eased, and when she turned back to the junior queens waiting outside, something in her posture had shifted.
We were heading back toward the registration area when a battered gray truck pulled up by the livestock gate.
The man who climbed out was tall and lean, his dark hair shoved back from his forehead, faded jeans and work boots covered in enough dust to tell me he hadn’t spent the morning standing around watching other people work.
He headed straight for one of the stock hands. “Who moved a trailer through the south pasture this morning?”
The kid looked toward Addison like he wanted someone else to answer.
She sighed. “Hi, Travis.”
His attention shifted her way. “Addison.”
“Is there a problem?”
“Depends. You consider somebody cutting a chain and using leased pasture as a shortcut a problem?”
“Usually.”
“Then yeah.” He held up a length of broken chain. “There’s a problem.”
“I’ll tell Orville.”
“I already told Orville.”
“Then why are you telling me?”
His mouth tipped at one corner. “Because people listen when you smile at them.”
I glared at him.
Addison gestured between us. “Braxton, meet Travis Cole.”
Travis looked me over once. “You’re the bodyguard?”
“Yeah.”
“Good luck.”
Addison put a hand on her hip. “With what?”
He started back toward his truck. “Didn’t say.”
She waited until he was out of earshot before muttering, “He enjoys his reputation way too much.”
“What reputation?”
“Trouble.”
I watched Travis toss the broken chain into the bed of his truck.
“It doesn’t look like he caused this.”
“No.” Addison’s expression turned thoughtful. “That’s the problem with reputations. Sometimes people stop checking.”
Later that night, after a full day of watching her smile at strangers, I went through her equipment.
Addison had returned to the ranch with me, exhausted and moving like someone who'd been putting on a performance for too damn long. She'd gone straight upstairs, which told me more about how tired she was than anything she could have said.
I stayed downstairs with her crown case, her sashes, and the boxes of ribbons and pins she carried to every event.
The crown case was navy blue, monogrammed, and lined with expensive looking cream fabric. I ran my hand along the seams, hoping my suspicions were wrong.
I found it on the third pass. A small tracking device, smaller than a quarter, had been tucked into the lining near the handle. I could tell with one look that it was professional grade. The kind that transmitted location data in real time. I pulled it loose and set it on the kitchen table.
That explained how someone knew where Addison would be. How they'd managed to show up at events across three counties. How they'd known she was at the rodeo grounds yesterday even though her schedule hadn't been posted to the public.
Whoever it was hadn't been guessing. They'd been tracking her.
The problem was that dozens of people had access to that case. Volunteers. Event coordinators. Sponsors. Other rodeo royalty who borrowed her backup equipment.
Even Evie.
I stared at the device and tried to think through the logic. Whoever planted it had been close enough to handle Addison's things without raising suspicion. That narrowed the list, but not enough.
Kyle, the photographer, had been at multiple events. He'd had opportunity. Evie had keys to Addison's trailer. She'd had access to everything. But so had half the rodeo circuit. I needed more.
Upstairs, a floorboard creaked. Addison was moving around, probably getting ready for bed.
I pocketed the tracker and checked the locks again. Whoever was toying with her had been close for months. And Addison had smiled through all of it, never knowing someone was watching every move she made.
I wasn't letting them get that close again.
The next morning, Addison came downstairs and found me at the kitchen table with the tracker sitting in front of me.
She stopped in the doorway, her expression shifting from confused to horrified in less than a second.
"What’s that?"
"A GPS tracker. I found it in your crown case last night."
Her face went pale. "How long—"
"Hard to say. Months, probably. Since June at least."
She sat down across from me, staring at the device like it might bite her. "Someone's been following me for months."
"Yeah."
"And I never knew."
"You weren't supposed to."
Her hands shook. She pressed them flat against the table. "Who?"
"That's what we're going to find out."
She looked up at me, and for the first time since I'd met her, the polished mask cracked completely. "I don't know who to trust anymore."
"You can trust me."
"Can I?"
I swallowed past the pressure in my throat. "Yeah, Addison. You can."
She held my gaze, searching for something I wasn't sure I knew how to give.
Then she nodded, just once, and her mask slid back into place. This time, I saw the fear underneath, and I understood exactly what I was protecting her from.