The Ranger's Rodeo Rebel (9 page)

Chapter Eleven

He wanted to kiss her.

With her eyes searching his, imploring, it was all he could do not to lean down and plant his lips on hers. He couldn't. Wouldn't. Shouldn't.

She blinked. He did, too, and the momentary break in eye contact was enough. He stood, held out a hand.

“Let's practice some more,” he said.

She nodded, blond hair falling over one shoulder. She was so tiny. Too small to defend herself against a man like James, at least not without any self-defense training. That James had struck her, that he still taunted her—well, it started a fire inside Chance's heart, one that he focused on instead of how appealing she looked at that moment.

She took his outstretched hand. He pulled her to her feet, and she landed against him.

God.

If she had any idea how aroused he was with her against him, well, she'd probably call off the rest of their lesson.

“Remember,” he said into her ear. “Step, wedge, thrust.”

He didn't give her time to comment, simply wrapped an arm around her. She didn't hesitate this time, planting her leg between his own, thrusting back and using such force he didn't need to fake falling down.

Damn, he loved the way her eyes lit up with triumph. “That was easy,” she said.

“Let's do it again.”

It was a form of physical torture. He came up behind her, his body buzzing and warming in places he wouldn't acknowledge. She thrust her leg through his own—bringing to mind other things she could do with her legs—then shifted back up against him, her rear end coming into contact with his midsection, which made him groan.

She froze. “Did I hurt you?”

Not in the way she thought. “I'm fine. Just keep going.”

She thrust back. He dropped to the ground, and he couldn't take any more. It wasn't like him to quit, but there was no shame in knowing your own weak spots. Caro Cruthers was definitely a weak spot.

“I think we should call it a night.”

It was a good time to do exactly that. The sun had dropped low, and they were quickly losing daylight. Soon the shadows would deepen, and he'd rather be inside when that happened.

Inside. With Caro.

It was a thought that repeated itself as they readied for the night. He managed to distract himself for a bit by cooking dinner, but all too soon it was time to turn in.

“Thanks,” she said, standing by the bedroom doorway. “Really, Chance. I appreciate all you're doing to help me.”

“Think nothing of it,” he said, turning away, having to turn away, because if she stared across at him with her big blue eyes one more time he'd...

What?

He didn't know, but he didn't want to find out.

“Good night,” she said, closing the bedroom door.

Son of a—

Don't think about it. Don't think about the fact that right now she's on the other side of that door, stripping out of her clothes, tugging tiny little panties down over her hips.

You don't even know if she wears panties.

That was the problem, he told himself. He had no business wanting to find out.

He gazed out the trailer window. As he had so many times before, he told himself to focus on the job at hand. He doubted that bastard James would try anything. Not tonight. He knew they were on to him. After he'd shot Rio, the putz had probably headed back to Via Del Caballo, which was where they should be tonight.

Chance sighed. He should have used Colt's truck and taken her home. But no. She'd insisted on sticking around, wanting to be there for the team despite not performing.

He busied himself with work. He had a new job, and DTS had forms for him to fill out. Fortunately, he could do much of it through his smartphone. There were emails to answer, too, notes from his former combat buddies. Messages on social media from people he'd met over the years. He had no idea how long he'd been on the couch when he heard a noise. It came from the other side of the door.

Carolina.

She groaned, a groan of fear, pain and anguish.

Ignore her.

She cried out again, and against his better judgment, he crossed to the door and opened it slightly. A light outside the trailer perfectly illuminated her face. Her blond hair contrasted with the dark brown pillows.

Nothing would have convinced him to take the bed. The bed was for her, he'd insisted, especially since her body still ached from being bucked from Rio. Chance had been grateful when she hadn't argued. He needed a door between them.

“No!” Carolina flinched. His stomach sank to his toes. She was probably dreaming of James.

How could someone hit a woman? He'd never understood the need to beat someone who couldn't defend herself.

Carolina's head swung left, then right, as if she fought off blows in her dreams.

Damn it.

He didn't want to. He really didn't, but he couldn't stop from entering her room. The bed was above the hitch of the trailer, which meant there was no way for him to walk along the side of the bed. All he could do was use his voice.

But, man, did he want to touch her.

He couldn't believe how badly he fought the urge. He wanted to crawl up beside her, brush the fear from her face with his fingers, ease the pain of her cries and tell her everything was all right. Nothing would happen to her.

She flung an arm up, but then she quieted and he continued to watch.

He needed to leave. He turned before he could convince himself to do otherwise, but he didn't stop at the couch. No. He burst into the cool night air before he could think better of it. There were chairs out in front. He settled into one of them. Wouldn't be the first time he'd kept watch outside. And sitting in a canvas director's chair sure beat propping himself up against a rock. He tipped his cowboy hat down and closed his eyes.

It was the last thing he remembered.

When he opened his eyes, Caro stood in front of him, holding out a mug. He shot up in surprise, but not even scrubbing a hand over his face helped to clear his mind.
Son of a—

He must have conked out. That wasn't like him. Not when he was on watch.

“Here.” She waved the mug in front of her. “You look like you need this.”

He took the steaming cup from her, knowing a big sip of caffeine wouldn't shake the cobwebs from his mind. “Sorry,” he said. “I had meant to keep watch, maybe get a little shut-eye, but not sleep until dawn.”

She smiled. “Busy day yesterday.”

“That's for sure.” He took a sip of the coffee, wincing at its strength.

“What's wrong?” Her blue eyes widened with concern, and he marveled that she could read him so easily.

“Strong.”

“Sorry. I usually get the dark roast.”

“I'll go get some sugar.”

“No, no. I'll get it. I think there's some inside.”

“Stay,” he said, standing. “I saw it last night when I was cooking.”

He didn't give her an opportunity to respond. He needed to get up and stretch his legs. Inside the trailer, Chance headed to a cabinet to the left of the sink. The sugar was right where he remembered.

He heard a noise outside.

The hairs stood up on the back of his neck. He didn't usually get such strong premonitions, but when he did...

He set the mug down on the counter, turned and ran for the door.

“Let me go!”

Chance froze, but only for a split second because his instincts had proved right. James. He jumped off the steps at the same time Caro used one of the maneuvers he'd taught her yesterday, the one that allowed you to twist away from someone who'd grabbed your arm. James, a big hulk of a guy, tried for her again.

“Hey!”

James glanced at him, and Chance plowed into him with everything he had.

Oomph.

James might be big, but he didn't have years of combat experience. He didn't know there was a pressure point on the side of the neck that would send spasms through your whole body and make you cry out in pain.

“Don't move,” Chance said, easing the pressure, but only a bit.

“My neck.” Big paws tried to swipe him away.

“I
said
, don't move.” More pressure, more cries of pain, but the hands dropped.

“Caro, call the police.”

She ran into the trailer to get her cell phone.

Enraged gray eyes met his own. James might be big, but his eyes were tiny. His lips were thin, though that could be because he grimaced in pain. Still, Chance didn't know what Caro had seen in the man. She could do so much better.

“I'm going to let you up.” He released the pressure again. “Slowly.”

James didn't move. Not when Chance slipped off him and not when someone—Chance didn't know who—appeared and asked, “Need any help?” Chance wasn't sure who the man meant—him or James. Chance glanced around. Other people were coming out of their trailers.

“You broke my neck,” James said.

“I didn't.” Chance stood.

James groaned. “My whole body feels numb.”

“It's just a nerve. It'll come back.”

Silver eyes snarled at him.

Chance ignored him. He wasn't going to get into an argument with the man. Instead he said, “Don't get up. If you do, I'll put you back down again.”

“Piss off, ass wipe.” James tried to move. Chance grabbed an arm and twisted it. James yelled. He tried to get away, but Chance flipped him over onto his belly and then jabbed a knee into his kidneys.

“Aaaah.”

“I
said
.
Don't. Move.
” Dumb-ass bullies. They always did the opposite of what they were told.

“Chance, they're on their way.”

He looked up and spotted Caro standing above them, face pale, eyes wide as she gaped at James.

“Caro,” James pleaded. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

Chance grunted. “You had your chance when she called you.”

“Face-to-face,” he added.

“Oh, yeah?” Chance said, leaning in to him. “And shooting her horse was a way to start a conversation.”

“I didn't shoot her horse.”

“Not with a gun, no, but you shot at her horse with a pellet gun.”

James bent back, trying to make eye contact with Caro. “I didn't shoot at you. Honestly.”

“Yeah, right,” she said.

“What's going on?”

His brother. Word spread fast among the rodeo community when trouble was afoot.

Colt touched Caro's arm briefly. “Did he hurt you?”

“I'm fine,” she said, lightly patting his hand. “I didn't let him get close enough to hurt me.”

“James!” Colt shouted. “I told you to leave her alone.”

“He won't come near her again,” Chance said, pressing a little harder on James's wrist. “Right, big boy?”

“Piss off.”

“What did he do?” Chance heard someone ask.

“He tried to assault Caro.”

“Is this the guy that's been harassing her?”

“He's the one that shot her horse.”

“I say we drag him
behind
a horse.”

Clearly word had spread about Caro's problem. People were mad. Not surprising. When someone took potshots at livestock, it was kind of a big deal.

“Here, I'll hold him,” said one of the wide-shouldered steer wrestlers.

“You can piss off, too,” James said.

“Thanks.” Chance stood, ignoring the man on the ground and handing over control. The steer wrestler knew exactly where to press, and when Chance was satisfied he had James under control, he sought out Caro. She stared at the man who'd made her life hell. She lifted her head, and their gazes connected. In her eyes, he saw fear, sadness and self-reproach. Before he could think better of it, he crossed to her side and pulled her into his arms.

This.

This was what he'd wanted to do since yesterday. This right here. Hold her. Comfort her. Tell her everything would be all right. She resisted at first, but of course she would. Then she buried her head in his shoulder and it felt good, as if this was where she was supposed to be. Chance met his brother's gaze. Colt was smiling. Or was it smirking? Either way, his small nod seemed to signify approval.

Someone else watched him, too. James.

Yeah, that's right. I'm here to protect her now. Former Army Ranger. Combat ready. And if you touch her again, look out.

The fierceness of his emotions startled him. He'd never felt anything like them in his life. And they were all for Carolina.

* * *

S
HE
COULDN
'
T
GET
away from the rodeo grounds fast enough.

Caro tried to let the breeze from the passenger-side window cool her face and her emotions, but it wasn't working.

“They're going to let him go,” she said.

“You don't know that,” Chance said. “Small-town police departments tend to take a harsher view of people who violate restraining orders, especially when they might have shot a horse twenty-four hours before.”

“Yeah, but you know what it's like these days. Nobody ever stays in jail long.”

He didn't disagree, and the knot in Caro's stomach pulled tighter. They were less than a half hour away from home, crossing the San Marcos foothills, the mountains brown from lack of rain, but the scenery no less spectacular. Valley oaks dotted the hillsides, the tips so full of foliage they hung to the ground, providing much-needed shade for wildlife. On any other day, she might have enjoyed the bright blue sky and the fluffy clouds staining the mountains with their shadows. Not today. She had shadows of her own to deal with.

Chanced glanced at her. “When you get back, you should call the officer in charge of your case.”

“His name is Officer Connelly, and I already left him a message.”