Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Val had been practicing a combo trick with one of the younger girls performing that night. Her partner and mentor had been supposed to ride with her to do it, but had come down with food poisoning right before showtime. Val had done a couple of runs with the girl—Calliope—before being certain she could take it on, but she felt sure now.
The trick was all about timing like so many of them were, and about snatching a brightly colored scarf—a bright yellow one—from Calliope’s grasp. In the past, Val would’ve thought of this as both a challenge and something to try just for fun. But now, it felt more like helping because she’d been asked.
She didn’t want to let the girl down, even though she knew her only marginally. Yet the rodeo circuit tended to be pretty devoted to their own. Had Biggs still been her manager, he might’ve forbidden it, and that made Val even more resolute. She liked calling her own shots, and so, for the good of everyone involved, she’d provide Calliope with the assist she needed.
Also, she couldn’t lie. Being so intensely focused meant less time preoccupied by Mark. Not that she hadn’t been ever since they’d parted ways. But she and her man had returned to their original long-distance situation, and it hadn’t been easy. She’d believed that the visit they had would ease the strain, but it hadn’t. It’d somehow made her lonelier for him than before.
Not that she wanted him to know that.
She knew the fact that they had to live such partitioned off lives tore at him just as much as it tore at her. And sometimes, she’d pour her heart out to him in her letters. But when communicating via text, phone, or Zoom call, she’d gone out of her way to sound more upbeat and chipper. He’d seemed a little lackluster, and she didn’t want him to suffer like she’d been.
So, she’d faked it a little.
Val didn’t know if he could tell, but he didn’t call her on it if he could. Maybe pretending to be fooled was his method of coping. Just like concentrating all her energy on this novel trick was hers. Because coping without him and his kisses—and each of those lip locks had been doozies—had become monumentally hard.
She galloped out into the stadium to raucous cheers, especially since she went right out on the heels of Calliope. They each performed their separate bag of tricks until it came to their grand finale with the scarf. The young girl approached her at a slightly different angle than how they’d practiced, but Val compensated, sliding that much further out along Maybelline’s flank.
It was a stretch and a challenge, but she managed to catch the thing, the silken fabric flapping audibly through the air. It was actually kind of neat how the end project came out. If she ever had a partner to perform with, maybe she could incorporate something like this into her own act on a longer-term basis.
They’d wrapped up to wild clapping and boot-stomping from the audience as they’d trotted out of the public view. That was when a single motion captured Val’s attention. She saw it out of her peripheral vision, and it made her lift her head in time to make out the bright orange of a snap shirt.
She jerked her head in that direction, holding her breath. Because the only person she’d ever witnessed wearing that particular garment—that orange shirt with brown sleeves—was her ex. Squinting as she tightened her ankles against Maybelline’s flanks, she made her mare halt to gather a better look. And just as she’d feared, it was him.
Biggs.
It’d been months now since she’d laid eyes on the narrow outline of his face. And Mark had been right. Biggs did have a weak chin. She didn’t know how it hadn’t stood out to her before now.
It didn’t help that Biggs wore a nasty and mean-spirited expression on his too pointed features as he stormed toward her like a torrential rain shower. He struck her as even more menacing and repulsive than ever, swaggering about as if he had every right to be there when he absolutely didn’t.
Climbing off Maybelline, she nodded at Mitzi as she came to lead the mare into her stall at the adjoining stables for her routine brush down. But upon seeing Biggs, her friend threw on the brakes, her brows knitting. Val stood her ground as he approached, only waiting to speak so that he’d be within earshot.
“Better hightail it if you know what’s good for you. I have a restraining order against you, which I’m certain you’re already aware of,” she shouted at him noisily enough to gain the interest of anyone nearby. He didn’t respond, although she felt sure he could hear her. He also didn’t break his stride, a move she had zero doubt was intended as an intimidation tactic. “Stop,” she ordered him, but again, he didn’t.
Afraid he might try to hurt Maybelline, she mumbled to Mitzi, “Take her to the stables.”
“But Val…”
“Go ahead, I’ll be fine.”
Val had no idea if she’d be fine, though she’d be surprised if Biggs planned to pull something nefarious within sight of all these people. Particularly after she’d made a point of calling him out on his unlawful violation.
One benefit of being in such excellent physical shape was that she felt confident in her ability to cause her ex some bodily harm if necessary. She’d never had to defend herself like that previous to now due to all his threats being suggested and not outright stated, but she knew she could kick him in the crotch and hit her mark.
She prepared herself to do precisely that when she spotted a couple of security guards on their way with a cop bringing up the rear. Someone must’ve heard her. “ Halt . Stop right there, Mr. Biggs.”
Biggs didn’t halt. Instead, he chose then to angle himself at her like he meant to tackle her body to the ground. She’d managed to spread her feet apart, ready to plant the heel of her boot right in his most vulnerable area when she registered that he was yanking something from beneath his waistband. A flash of metal allowed her to see that it was a pistol. Panic raced through her.
At ten feet, he ceased his forward movement and blatantly took aim at her forehead. A kick wouldn’t work if he planned to murder her right there in cold blood. Was he that insane?
He cocked the gun, proving that he must have real intent to follow through despite their audience, although many were now ducking for cover. Every single molecule of her blood and organs froze solid. This was really happening, and nothing she could do would change that. Things were occurring too fast for her life to flash before her eyes, but she had one thought, only one, as the barrel of that gun remained fixed on her like a missile.
She’d never get to see Mark again.
As if from a distance, Val heard the gunshot as it reverberated across the rudimentary soil path that stretched to the other parts of the stadium. But it was too late. Shadows erupted behind her vision, throwing her consciousness into a clinging darkness unlike anything she’d ever experienced before.
And then she knew nothing more.