was on the computer in the break room last time I saw him. The orders are rolling in.” Monty and several of the other buckaroos ran a side business selling Western wear through an online store. “Don’t worry—he’ll be here. Like you said...you just focus on staying on.”
“Right.” Focus would be a good thing. Staying on would be even better.
For Seth the flashes of falling off the bull six months ago wouldn’t fade. He’d been back riding now for two months, training and working. And each time he got on one of the beasts, the images from the past came forward to taunt him. Focus.
Mia and her well-trained dogs ran from the arena to the resounding cheers and applause of the entertained audience. Mia used dogs, while Tonya defied death walking a high wire and being shot out of a cannon. Mia would be back in about fifteen seconds to help Tonya bull-fight.
The clock ticked. Mia returned in a flash of color and renewed applause. She moved opposite of Tonya and waited on the other side of the gate.
A third bullfighter, Rhett Jamison, grasped the rope he’d use to pull open the gate when Seth gave him the signal. Tonya met his gaze then gave him a slow nod. The timekeeper held the stopwatch next to Seth’s head. He’d press the button as soon as the gate opened. His muscles bunched and he forced them to relax. He’d have to move with the bull, not fight him. He nodded to Rhett.
Rhett pulled the rope and the gate opened. The bull shot out and went into his rocking north-and-south bucking motion. Seth kept his free arm up, his stomach tight, his weight centered over the hand that gripped the rope, muscled legs clamped against the beast’s sides.
Eight seconds. Just do it for eight seconds.
He knew what he was doing. The ride felt right. Good. The fear fled. Exhilaration filled him. He let his body flow with the movement. Time slowed; the roar of the crowd faded. It was just him and the bull.
The bell sounded. Elation zipped through him. He’d done it again. He’d stayed on. The rope slipped. He frowned and felt himself falling. No, this wasn’t supposed to happen. Wha—?
Seth was on the ground, his lungs straining for air. The past rushed back to hit him and he steeled himself for the pain, for the bull to trample him. He tried to breathe, to roll, and couldn’t move.
A hoof hit his newly healed leg. Pain ricocheted through him and blackness descended.
* * *
“Seth,” Tonya whispered even as she, Rhett and Mia went into action. Mia moved, flapping her arms. The bull turned in her direction and galloped toward her. She ran for the barrel, then dived inside. The bull stopped and turned back to focus on Seth and the men who’d already jumped into the arena to grab him. But there was no way they’d get him over the fence in time if the bull charged.
Tonya raced forward, her brain whirling. She had to buy the men time. She yelled and snagged her horn from her pocket. A fierce blow loud enough to hurt her ears confused the animal. He stopped and turned to look at her for a brief second.
Then ignored her and charged back toward Seth. The men almost had him over the fence.
Tonya dashed over to slap the bull on his hindquarters, then dart off to the right since he had his head lowered and to the left. The animal roared, pivoted in the direction she’d anticipated he would. It bought her some time, but not much. He finally came after her. Mia, who’d climbed from the safety of her barrel, waved her hands and yelled, but the bull had Tonya in his sights and wasn’t being distracted.
Tonya didn’t hesitate. She was dead if she did. She ran for the fence, grasped the top rail and flipped herself over. She hit the ground on the other side as the bull’s horns hooked through the fence. With a snort and a few bucks, he stomped off, back to the pen. Mia jumped over the fence and collapsed down on the ground. “You okay?”
“Yeah. You?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m all right,” Tonya gasped. “And Seth... Did they get him out? Is he okay?”
“Thanks to you, he is,” a deep male voice said. Tonya felt hands grab her, pulling her to her feet, and immediately her mind went to her stalker. She released a quavering sigh. The man who had her was a stranger to her, but somewhere in the crowd, Hank Newman waited.
Was he still here? Her eyes darted from face to face. Too many faces. He could be hiding behind any one of them. “That was some move you did there over the rail. Never seen anything like it,” another voice said.
Tonya focused on the speaker. Monty Addison, Mia’s brother. “Gymnastics,” she muttered. She took several long, deep breaths. “Where’s Seth now? How bad is he hurt?” She whirled around, still scanning the area, grimacing at the twinge in her lower back. She might have made it over the fence, but her form could have used a little work.
She saw the EMTs hovering over Seth about ten yards down. She rushed toward him, concerned. “Please, God, let him be okay,” she whispered.
Monty stayed with her. She could almost feel his worry as she came up to the edge of the crowd. They now had Seth on a stretcher, his leg in splints. The sight of his pale, colorless face grabbed her heart, and she nearly buckled as the past rose up in her mind once again. “Daniel,” she whispered. “Not again.”
“He’s going to be all right, Tonya,” Monty said, gripping her arm. “It’s not like Daniel this time. Seth is going to be fine. Maybe banged up and sore, but okay.”
She blinked back tears. “How do you know?”
“They didn’t pull the sheet over his face.” He turned and walked away.
Tonya swallowed hard. Daniel. Her friend, the man who’d wanted to marry her. Grief welled up again and she shoved it aside. The EMTs carried Seth through the silent crowd and to the ambulance. While they maneuvered him inside, she glanced around, eyes probing. Rhett gave her a two-fingered salute. She nodded and kept looking. Where was Hank? She didn’t want to leave town just yet; she wanted to stay and find out how Seth was doing. But she couldn’t take a chance that Hank would find her and try to kill her again.
She raced toward the ambulance and grabbed one of the EMTs’ arms before he could swing into the driver’s seat. “Let me go with him,” she panted.
“Sorry, ma’am.”
A glance over her shoulder sent terror slashing through her as her eyes collided with Hank Newman’s. He lifted a hand and she saw his lips form the word “Wait.”
She looked for an escape route. The crowd pressed in, so she couldn’t run fast enough to get away from Hank. He would catch up to her. She did a one-eighty, eyes searching, desperation filling her. She looked back, made a split-second decision and leaped into the back of the ambulance just as the other EMT reached to close the door. “I have to go with him. Please.”
“Who are you?”
“A friend,” she said softly.
He studied her for a second. “Sorry.”
“Let her come,” Seth rasped.
The paramedic turned back to Seth. “You’re awake?”
