Rough Ride by Piper Stone
Chapter 1
Jake
“Our next bull rider isn’t new to the rodeo circuit, Shane, but it sure is a surprise to see him here. I thought given his age he’d retired completely.” The box was perched above the crowd of thousands, their prime position allowing the commentators to see every square inch of the ring.
“You’re right about that, Randy. This is a bold move for Thunder Travers. After the career-threatening injury he sustained, no one expected to see him ride again.” Shane whistled several times.
“Let’s just hope his explosive temper has been altered by the experience,” Shane added. Both men laughed heartedly, causing a few cheers from the stands.
I glanced up at the box, seething as usual. The bastards had no idea how hard I’d worked to get here. The rodeo was my passion, riding bulls my specialty. And no one, including pansy- assed wimps who’d never been on a horse let alone a bull, was going to stop me. Fuck them. Fuck everything.
“Don’t listen to them, Thunder. You need to concentrate.”
I glared at my business manager and hissed. While Mike Barker had managed to convince the rodeo officials that I was ready, I didn’t need his bullshit either.
“Yeah, whatever. I just want to take this bull down,” I scoffed.
“Just be careful. You’re putting everything on the line for this. I mean everything.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” I yanked on my gloves, swaggering toward the ring. As I threw my arm up in the air, only about half of the crowd actually cheered me on. The other half booed. The motherfuckers. So I wasn’t well liked. The brooding, dangerous Thunder was a persona and one I’d perfected over the years. Well, fuck them too.
As I was helped onto the bull, I leaned over as I always did, whispering in the beast’s ear, “You and me, buddy. However, I’m going to take you down.”
I grabbed the rope, twisting it in my hands then glared at the box. I could just make out the two men who’d presided over these events for years. They would be eating their goddamn words soon enough.
“Eight seconds. That’s all you have to do, buddy!” Mike called from a distance.
Eight seconds. Hell, I could do that in my sleep. I was going for more. I was planning on breaking the circuit record. As the clock ticked down, the crowd continued to roar. I knew some of them were trying to distract me. However, that was impossible. I’d learned to process the anger in an entirely different way since my injury. Within seconds, there was no other sound in my ears but the rapid beating of the bull’s heart. He was afraid as he should be.
He was also just as pissed off as I was.
Just before the gate shot open, I touched the amulet I’d almost forgotten to wear. The necklace gave me a feeling of peace.
Boom!
The gate flew open and the bull charged out into the arena. It seemed as if all time had stopped. Come on, boy. Show me what you got.
I threw one arm back as the bull tore through the corral, bolting and jerking in an effort to toss me. The beast spun around in circle after circle, purposely running into the fence. I refused to be tossed. I knew the creature, had ridden him on three occasions. While he was massive and powerful, I had determination.
My heart slammed against my chest as I felt myself slipping, I dug my knees in, more determined than ever. I started to hear the roar of the crowd and could tell they’d gotten to their feet. I dared not look at the clock, but I knew I was approaching eight seconds.
Then nine.
Ten.
I kept going although it was difficult to breathe. The bull jerked harder, launching himself several feet into the air. Nothing was going to prevent me from winning this freaking competition. The beast twirled again, kicking up dust and dirt. Just another few seconds. Come on, baby. Work with me.
Cheers erupted in the stadium area, the roar of the crowd heard over the snorting and bellowing of the bull. As exhaustion started to make my muscles tense, I did what I could to push on.
Then I was tossed like a ragdoll, slamming down on the very same shoulder I’d destroyed a few years before.
“Oh. My. God. Thunder just broke an all-time record. Thirteen seconds,” Randy yelled into the microphone.
“Un-freaking-believable. Who would have thought a broken-down cowboy could rise to the top again!”
I rolled several times in an attempt to get away from the thousands of pounds that would stomp down, crushing every bone. As I was finally helped to my feet and rushed toward safety, I jerked away from them as I’d always done before, yanking off my amulet, kissing it then lifting the piece toward the bright afternoon sun.
The crowd went wild.
“Thunder. Thunder. Thunder. Thunder.”
“Get the hell out of there!” Mike screamed.
I refused, turning in a full circle then glaring at the commentators.
“Jesus Christ. The bull is going wild. He’s doing everything he can to get to Thunder!” Shane yelled into the microphone.
After exhaling, I smiled. I wanted to drink in this moment. As the bull broke free, rushing toward me, I simply gave him a nasty look. Then I jumped over the fence in my classic style.
“Are you fucking out of your goddamn mind?” Mike huffed, pacing the floor as I walked toward him. “You are reckless and stupid. Are you trying to kill yourself?”
I grinned as I noticed reporters heading in my direction. I did so love preening for the ladies. “I’m just doing my job, my friend.”
“Yeah? Your fucking job is to stay the hell alive. I can’t take this. You are out of control.”
Huffing, I pushed past Mike, moving straight to the prettiest little reporter in the world. “Hiya, darlin’. If you don’t mind waiting for me for just a minute, I have something I need to do.”
“I’ll wait for you, Thunder. Anytime,” she cooed.
I hadn’t been down that road in one hell of a long time. Maybe it was time to saddle up again. The thought made me laugh. As I walked away, I heard Mike’s angry words. What the hell did I care? I was currently the star on the rodeo circuit. With my performance at 13.1 seconds, I would now be considered legendary.
I stormed through the crowd, hands grabbing at my arms, panties thrown in my face. I had one purpose in mind. As I climbed the stairs leading to the commentary box, I shoved up the sleeves of my shirt and wiped the dirt from my face. I burst into the room, immediately grabbing good ole Shane from his chair.
“You boys like to make fun of me. That’s not cool and not allowed any longer. The Thunder is back.” As I threw a single hard punch at the man’s face, a single camera was pointed in my direction, capturing the aggressive moment. I sneered at the man holding the lens before enjoying the way Shane fell to the floor, both hands wrapped around his nose. That should do the trick.
I didn’t pay any attention to Randy’s spew of curse words as I left the box, heading back toward what Mike liked to call the preparation rooms. By the time I reached the area, another dozen or so reporters had converged on the area, every one of them fighting for a closeup. I purposely found the cute little redhead from before, moving toward her at lightning speed. When I slid my hand around the back of her neck, pulling her onto her tiptoes, there was a blast of silence.
I gave her one of my rare but signature kisses, my body exuding the kind of passion that delighted the people behind the cameras and excited the ratings. This was all about reviving the tarnished aura that had once been bright and shiny around me. The Thunder was back, and he wasn’t going anywhere.
When I pushed her aside, she whimpered audibly. Then the questions started pouring in.
“What are your plans for the future?”
“How did you manage to stay on that massive beast?”
“Are you gunning for the championship?”
I gave another smile then headed straight for the room I’d been assigned, Mike closely at my heels. He slammed the door behind me, still cursing under his breath.
“Whatever you have to say, Mike, just do it. I’m tired and in no mood for a lecture,” I barked as I moved toward the small refrigerator, yanking it open. “No fucking beer?”
“You don’t need alcohol, Jake. You need a doctor. You fell on your damn arm.”
I shifted my arm, the shot of anguish rolling down to my fingertips a reminder that I wasn’t as young as I used to be. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine and whether or not you want a lecture, you’re going to get one. That stunt you just pulled, which was shown in vivid color on the monitors, will be on every news program this side of the Mississippi by six o’clock. No one is going to remember that you just broke a record. No one is going to care. All they are going to remember is that you punched a commentator. Jesus. What the hell were you thinking? I should fire your ass right now.” Mike’s voice had risen by at least two levels, something that almost never happened.
I grinned as I heard his phone ringing. “Are you sure you want to fire me, Mike? My guess is that’s the third or fourth call you’ve already received with invites to whatever rodeo is hot and upcoming.”
He glowered at me as he yanked his phone into his hand. “The sixth actually, but that’s not the goddamn point. You are out of control. If you don’t wrangle in your anger, you’re going to get yourself killed.”
“Maybe I don’t give a shit. Have you ever thought about that?” I rubbed my abdomen, my gut telling me I also had a couple of cracked ribs. Great. Well, it was worth it.
Mike continued to stare at me as he slowly shook his head. We both heard a sharp knock, the door immediately opening and the doctor sweeping in. He took a step back, rubbing his forehead.
I immediately jumped onto the table, unbuttoning my shirt and peeling it away. “Do your thing, Doc.”
The doctor had been around for a long time. He exhaled as he studied my naked torso. “Cracked ribs and a bruised shoulder?”
“Likely. Just tape me up so I can do a damn interview and get it over with,” I responded. I was already fidgety, eager to get the hell out of the place. I hated the damn press, but the accolades and money I’d take home were well worth putting up with a few smiles and cooing words.
“You need to slow the hell down, Jake. I already told you that your shoulder was still borderline on being able to compete,” the doctor stated.
I shrugged, the action making me wince. I’d never taken it slow, and I didn’t intend on starting. This was my last shot at being labeled the best and everyone in the room knew it. I thought about my career as the doctor did his thing. I’d never wanted to be anything else but a rodeo star, which I’d achieved at an early age. Then I’d allowed fame and fortune to go to my head.
At least that’s what I’d heard from more than one source. After my injury, I was considered a has-been. Well, I proved the assholes wrong.
“That should hold you,” the doc said. “But you need to rest, Jake. I also suggest you have x-rays taken of your shoulder. You could have caused more damage.”
“I’ll consider your advice.” I studied Mike, who’d pulled an envelope into his hand. What the hell was the man holding back from me?
“Yeah, of course you won’t.” The doctor gathered his things quickly, leaving the room in the same huff he came in. I had that effect on everyone.
Mike exhaled raggedly before turning toward me. “I received this in the mail yesterday.”
“What is it?”
“A letter from some attorney in Oklahoma. Is there something you need to tell me?” Mike’s tone of voice was completely accusatory. Granted, after my injury I’d gone a little off the deep end, but I’d never been to the state.
As least that I could remember.
“Never been there. Have no clue.” Montana was my home, the ranch I lived in my respite from the rest of the world.
“Sure you haven’t. Well, whatever you did, you need to fix it and soon. If you want to ride out your new success, you need to start acting like you give a damn.” He thrust the envelope in my direction, glaring at me in admonishment.
I hesitated before taking it from him. A portion of the months after I’d crushed my shoulder had been a huge blur, more from a drunk fest than anything else. I took a deep breath before peeling away the flap. There was no way I could have been expecting the letter I’d been sent. I read it twice and I still didn’t have a firm understanding of why the hell I’d received it. “What the fuck is this?”
Mike lifted a single eyebrow, yanking it out of my hand. As he read it, his eyes opened wide. “It would appear that your father has left you a substantial ranch and oil field corporation in Oklahoma.”
“I don’t have a goddamn father, Mike. You already know that.”
“You had a birth father, Jake. I’m sorry he was never present in your life but call this a gift.”
A gift. From a man I’d never known, and who certainly hadn’t given a shit that he’d had a son. This had to be some asshole trying to get to me for some horrible deed I couldn’t remember. “I don’t care about it.”
“Are you nuts? You’re thirty-six years old. You suffered a horrible injury that should have ended your career. Instead of spending your recuperation time trying to figure out the rest of your damn life, you drank it away. This might be your only chance at actually making something out of yourself. Don’t be a fool.”
I stared down at the paper, my stomach churning. The letter had brought up all the horrible feelings and thoughts I’d had over the years. A father who never wanted me or my mother. A man who I pretended was some hero saving the world until I’d gotten older. Now the asshole had finally wanted me in his life and he was dead? Fuck that.
I jumped off the table, grabbing my extra shirt. I refused to believe the bullshit, but there was only one way to find out if the man was actually my father. I jerked the letter from Mike’s hand, glancing at the name.
Rutherford Wallace.
Rich. Powerful. Ruthless.
I knew the asshole’s reputation. Was it possible my sweet mother had found passion with such a horrible man? I was certainly going to find out.
