Chapter 72
The pill Doc had given me started to kick in around the time the opening ceremony started. Before that, Isaac informed me all about this strike Ty was running this week. This one was different than the last, and a few of the riders had made sure he and Jorge knew about it.
I'd been kept out of the loop because of J.D.
and Cody. That made sense, because neither one would like knowing they were getting something handed to them.
In this case, it was more about the point of it than who won.
So in that lull between the big opening display of Pbr's pyrotechnics and the start of the actual event, Jorge made sure Cletus was in the loop too.
So when the first rider sent his bull out with nothing but a rope, the jokes from tonight's clown were the sort that would make the fans actually stop and think about what was going on.
"Maybe he's scared the judges won't like him," Cletus had drawled, flapping his hand like that was a dumb idea.
And the crowd had howled at the idea. My guys pulled in around me as the next five men after that all did exactly the same thing. Our eyes were on the sixth chute for the night. The one with J.D. standing up there behind it, ready to go.
"Is he good for this?" Jorge asked me.
"Yeah," I said, aware my hands were throbbing still. "J.D. will make sure of it. Just do not let him get run over, ok?"
"Not on our watch," Isaac promised.
We had taken turns collecting the rope and running it back to the chutes. Each time, we got a salute or a few words of appreciation. Not a single man skipped it either, making me aware of just how much they'd all hated the other team.
And then J.D. climbed over the rail and into his chute. I had to do a double-take, though, because that wasn't Cody pulling for him. It looked like Jake!
"Now I'm getting worried," I told Isaac. "Where's Cody?"
"Being distracted, the way Ty tells it," he assured me. "Tanner, they have a plan."
"Hope so."
But we pulled closer, spreading out to manage this bull because we knew J.D. was riding hurt. I noticed Jake was helping him with his wrap, but didn't want to worry about that. This was going to be ok. I would not let him get hurt.
Then Jake climbed back to the safe side and I felt my breath catch. From across the arena, I heard, "Go, J.D.!" and recognized his sister's voice.
He looked up. I couldn't see much more through his helmet than that, but I did notice when he looked over at me. And then he dropped down, landing on the bull.
The gate opened, and a little brown-and-white thing flew out. Fuck, this one was quick, but J.D. looked like he had it. He was also a lot more loose than normal. I had a feeling that was because he was high. It had to be.
The bull kicked out, did a little shimmy in the middle and then set up his spins.
The whole time, J.D. fucking rode. It was as if his pain was forgotten - or at least postponed for a moment.
The three of us kept shifting back and over, keeping the animal in our triangle of protection, and I knew the clock was spinning down fast.
Then it stumbled. My eyes jumped down to the legs, checking for a knee to hit the dirt so J.D. could get a re-ride, but that didn't happen. The animal just staggered enough to make him lurch forward.
"Keep riding!" I yelled, hoping he'd realize it wasn't a foul.
So J.D. wrapped his legs around that little bull, heaved him over, and I swore he made the damned thing actually work for its supper.
When his legs ran across the side, the press of those rolled spurs against flesh was visible.
If the judges didn't give him at least a half decent score for this, then J.D. would have plenty to use against them.
But right as he was getting into it, the buzzer went off. The lights flashed and spun across the dirt, dozens of Pbr logo spotlights making a disco effect around me.
"You're good!" Jorge called.
J.D. grabbed the tail of his rope and tossed it. The thing went slack. His hand was free, but the bull was still bucking. I was braced for him to take a facer in the sand, but J.D. just rode it, completely hands-free, for two more bucks before hopping off the side I was on.
I caught him around the waist, making sure he landed on his feet, and moved him behind me.
Jorge had already caught the bull's attention, getting it to follow him.
Isaac was bringing up the rear, and so far, all of that was working out.
The animal didn't even try to resist as they led him straight to the bull gate, so I grabbed J.D.
's rope out of the sand and headed back to him.
"How are you feeling?" I asked.
"Been better," he admitted as he took his rope. "You know about the strike, right?"
"I do, but you're not supposed to."
"Ty told me," he explained. "Cody doesn't know shit, though. And Jaxon told me he was real sorry - and meant it too."
"So he's cool again?" I asked, just needing to be sure.
"Yep," J.D. said, looking over and jerking his chin, making me aware my guys were headed over. "How you holding up?"
"J.D., only my hands are hurt."
"Weren't the case when Ty showed up," he reminded me. "No bullshit, Tanner. How you doin'?"
"He's a little stiff and a bit slow," Jorge said, "but he's not off, and he's right where he needs to be. Probably want to give him a real good rub down tonight - I'll let you decide how that works out - but he's not full of shit this time."
"I'm not," I assured him.
"I might have a concussion again," J.D. admitted. "Doc says it's borderline. Said I shouldn't ride, but this? Yeah, this is to make a point, and I don't want those fuckers to think they can scare any of us off, get me?"
"Oh, I get you," Jorge replied before I could. "Now go relax."
"Thanks for the assist," J.D. said, looking up at his score.
With a shake of his head, he headed back, but it made me curious. I turned to see the big screen. There, he had a pathetic 78.25. It was better than yesterday's, but still not at all what he deserved.
But I wasn't pissed about it. I'd reached the point where I wasn't surprised at all. Sick of it, sure, but I'd burned out all my anger earlier. All I had left now was disgust, and the kind that was starting to turn putrid.
The next few bulls were easy things, though. All of them came out without a rider. One of us shooed them toward the bull gate. Someone else grabbed the rope when it came off and took it back. Then we swapped out, letting each of us get a rest in turn.
I was just starting to find the rhythm of that when Jorge grabbed my shoulder and pulled me closer. "Austin," he warned. "And yeah, he's riding."
"How we playing this?" Isaac asked.
I grunted, making it clear what I thought, but Jorge had his own ideas. "He wanted the B-team? Well, let's show him how it feels to be on the receiving end of that, hm? Tanner, you get to play Peter. I'll be Stephen, and Isaac, you play Charlie."
"Same dumb shit they do?" Isaac asked.
"Nah," Jorge said. "Make it more like the Three Stooges version."
Yeah, I could handle that. A whole lot of tripping over our feet, fumbling around, and crashing into each other while accomplishing nothing? Well, if the Pbr could call their bullshit "fair judging," then we could call this bad comedy act "bullfighting," right?
Then we waited. In the chute, the bull thrashed, making Austin have to rewrap his rope. Just when I was sure he had it, he waited a little longer. Then a little more. I was about ready to give up when that prick finally nodded - and the gate swung open.
Charcoal and rust, the bull came out five feet up in the air.
Then again, that was Speed Bump's style.
He flew. He always flew, and that was what made him the second-best bull in the entire Pbr.
Up on his back, Austin flopped back with the power of this animal, then forward when they hit the ground.
And when Speed Bump went in for his spins, I could see that dumbass slowly tilting, leaning ever more toward the outside. I didn't move closer, though. Nope. Fuck him.
But somehow, he saved it. Barely. The bull offered another traveling buck, getting some real distance under his feet, and it gave Austin the chance to pull himself back into place. Too bad for him, that didn't last long at all.
The bull bucked, kicking his legs up high behind him. The first time, Austin's head snapped up. The second time, his body tilted forward. The third time? That stupid motherfucker got punted right off the bull like a slingshot.
And I watched as he landed face first in the sand.
"Ha!" Jorge yelled, moving toward the bull. "Watch the feet!"
Isaac ducked as the bull kicked out in protest. Heels went over his head, and then he jogged behind him, but I simply crossed my arms over my chest and turned to keep my eyes on Austin.
"You fucking piece of shit!" Austin roared as he climbed to his feet. "You fucked me over!"
I simply lifted a brow, aware I was on camera, and if my lips didn't move, then there was proof I didn't say shit.
So that idiot stormed toward me, slamming his chest into my crossed arms hard enough to push me back. "Do your fucking job, bitch!"
I took a step back, aware of the newly forming bruises on his face, but the anger was building up, and fast. "I am."
"You..." He shoved his hands against my shoulders, forcing me back a step. "Did..." Another hit. "Not!"
This time, I dodged, making the fucker stumble forward because he'd expected me to just stand there and take it. He also wasn't nearly as fast, powerful, or intimidating as a bull. Too bad for him.
When he caught himself, he turned back around. "How's your little butt buddy doing, Tanner? He dropped like a damned rock. You take the chance to fuck him while he was down?"
"You had a tire iron!" I roared, forgetting all about my plan to be the pacifist.
"So quit!" he said. "We don't want your kind here."
"And we don't have to help you," I reminded him.
"You aren't!" And he shoved up in my face.
"But I know your weak spot, faggot. I might not be able to touch you, but I'm not giving up.
I've got one more chance to make this work.
You may have convinced my sponsors to run, but I'll make sure you fuckers are the ones running before the weekend's over. "
"Try it," I growled, leaning in close enough to kiss him.
"And I didn't know you liked getting all up and personal with guys.
If you want, I'll take you behind the chutes, bend you over, and make you whimper like a little bitch.
You just gotta beg, Austin. I mean, you know what they say. He doth protest too much?"
"You fucking..." And he tried to swing. I blocked his arm, hooked a leg behind his, and dropped him to the ground, then stepped back with my hands up.
But Austin wasn't done. He rolled to his feet and came back at me. Isaac blocked him, pushing him back. Jorge tried to grab his arm and turn him around, but Austin swung.
And from the crowd - on the opposite side from J.D.'s family - a woman yelled out, "Do it!"
That wasn't J.D.'s sister. Or his mother. It took me a whole second to put it together, but Jorge didn't have the same problem. Just as I realized the voice belonged to Rhaven, our Deviant rep, my teammate swung.
This wasn't a little punch, nor a gentle one. No, Jorge hit that asshole with the same amount of force he'd use on a one-ton bull. His fist crashed into Austin's cheek hard, snapped the idiot's head around, and knocked him over hard enough his feet flew out from under him.
And for a moment, Austin just laid there in the dirt, groaning.
The three of us pulled in, braced for the worst. At the side, I could see the gates opening and staff rushing in to separate this, but they wouldn't get here in time. I wanted to kick this fucker. I wanted to make him pay for hurting J.D. like he had.
But Jorge simply leaned down into Austin's face. "Never," he growled, "fuck with the wolf pack. We fucking bite."