PROLOGUE
ANDI
“Las Vegas,let’s welcome back Ms. Andrea Forbes from West Lafayette, Indiana! Defending her world champion title, she’s chasing another win tonight for Forging Forbes Ranch. And here she comes now, riding her trusted partner, Raine. Keep your eyes on her, folks. She’s one of the fastest barrel racers in the arena. Leading with the most wins and highest purse so far, a victory tonight will cement her championship for a second consecutive year.”
Before the announcer even finishes saying my name, Raine and I are down the chute, ready and waiting. She explodes forward like she’s been shot from a gun. Her hooves thunder across the arena as we surge toward the first barrel. As I swing around it, I know something is wrong. Raine knows it too. The saddle slips, and my heart clenches. This is going to hurt.
We race toward the second barrel, and as we make the turn, Raine slips as the belly strap slides back. I come down hard on the top of the barrel. Pain bursts through my forearm and ribs, but I can’t stop. Stopping means losing. Then the other cinches on the saddle give. I roll sideways, every muscle in my thighs screaming to hold on. Raine fights to regain her footing, and my head barely misses slamming into the barrel.
Air rushes past me, then I hit the ground. My hat goes flying. My braid whips me in the face. My boot is stuck, and Raine bolts forward, leaving me dangling for a moment before the saddle finally gives completely. All I see are horse hooves. My worst nightmare is happening right in front of my eyes.
I try to roll away so my mother doesn’t have to watch me die on a horse. Something slams into my forehead above my left eye. Pain erupts through my body, and my mind reels. Then I hear the worst sound I’ve ever heard. Raine’s high-pitched, agonized neigh cuts through the fog in my head. Her cry is exactly what I need to jolt me into action. I stagger to my feet, but I can’t see anything. Everything goes dark for a moment. Then I see Raine limping away.
Rodeo personnel descend on me as I try to comprehend everything that just happened. My body aches, and my vision blurs as blood drips down my face. My left arm hangs useless at my side. My brain is muddled, and my trusted companion, Raine, is hurting too.
My shot at a repeat championship is over, and all I can think about is my horse. I care more about the damage done to her than about my own injuries. It isn’t until I see my mother and stepdad rushing toward me that I finally let the tears fall. Then everything goes dark as my body crumples to the dirt.
My last sight is Raine falling too. My beautiful girl is still crying out, and then another cry echoes through the stadium. I don’t know where it’s coming from. The cold, peaceful pull of unconsciousness drags me into its arms.
CHAPTER 1
COWBOY
WatchingStriker with his little family stirs a bit of jealousy in me. Not enough to make me want what he has, though. Besides, based on my past, that kind of life was never meant for me.
I walked away from everything and everyone, choosing the road instead. I was a nomad until just a year ago, when I finally decided to settle down in Eastport, Rhode Island. I’m used to wide-open spaces and never staying in one place too long, but I like the brothers I’ve found here. I like the community.
Shiver of Chaos MC has opened their arms to me. For the first time in a long time, I feel like part of a family. Oh, I have a family outside of Shiver. I just don’t acknowledge them, and they don’t acknowledge me.
My father loved me until the day he died. He understood why I walked away and what it would cost me to stay. When I came home from the military, my little sister was gone. She’d taken off to live with our good-for-nothing mother, and my father never did a damn thing to bring her home. He’d assumed she’d be okay. I missed her like hell, but I haven’t heard from her since.
No one around here knows who I really am. I’m sure Gambit, the club president, figured it out when he ran my backgroundcheck, but he’s never confronted me. He’s never pointed out that I could afford more than the motorcycle I ride or the old, banged-up truck I drive. I live in the clubhouse. After years of roaming, I don’t need a house or an apartment. It would feel like a cage.
I was born to the open fields and ranges of Wyoming. We have so much land it would take a couple of days to ride across it. It’s one of the largest still-running ranches in the nation, but I don’t care about that anymore. After my father died, I let the ranch manager take it over. It’s still mine, but I don’t ever want to live there again. Too many memories plague me.
I walked away from it all. I lived off the money in my bank account until my father passed away several months ago. A lawyer had to track me down to tell me. He died alone. No family was with him.
Now I have all the money I’ll ever need, but I hold on to that ranch because someday my sister might come home, and she’ll want it. She has always loved it. It was our mother poisoning her mind that made her demand her shares of the business. My father exiled her, and she left for places unknown.
War and betrayal will do that to a man. I don’t want anything holding me back or tying me down. I want to be able to run or take off whenever I need to. My club brothers wouldn’t let me, though. I know it, and they do too. I craved a family. Maybe I do want what Striker, Gambit, and Hemingway have, ol’ ladies and families.
Amelia, Striker’s ol’ lady, owns the Austin Roadhouse here in Eastport. She’s originally from Eastport, just like Striker, but moved to Texas for years. It shocked me how quickly he forgave her for walking away from him with their son, but that’s his life. I sure as hell wouldn’t have. I’m a bitter, grumpy man.
I’m also a hard man who doesn’t forgive easily. It’s why I was a nomad for so long. I didn’t want to settle down, but somethingabout Eastport caught my eye. Maybe it’s the beautiful scenery, the colors of the trees over the hills in the fall. It could be a lot of things, but right now, it’s the company I keep that keeps me here.
I only have so many vices. Whiskey, women, my bike, and horses. Someday I’ll have my own place again and will be able to have my horses, but for now they don’t count as part of the vices. Whiskey and women happen together most of the time. Whiskey is an everyday kind of thing for me these days. I’m not an alcoholic, but it wouldn’t take much for me to swing that way. I’ve been close a few times.
“Holy fuck. I know who I’m going home with tonight,” Jumper says, staring across the dining room of the Roadhouse.
I follow his line of sight and everything in me locks up. Fuck that! She’s mine.
Her long chestnut hair shines under the lights, brushing the loops of her belt. Tight-as-fuck Wrangler jeans hug her perfectly molded ass, and a bronze leather bustier presses her breasts up, causing them to practically spill out. My mouth waters. Her muscular arms are on display, and her trim stomach with a sparkling jewel in her belly button makes me want to drop to my knees and worship her as I tongue that gem.
She throws her head back, and her face is illuminated from under the brim of her cowboy hat. She has a cute, pert nose, eyes that dance with laughter, and lips that make a man want them wrapped around his cock. She reaches across the bar and touches Striker’s ol’ lady’s hand as she giggles. The tinkling sound cuts across the room and wraps around my heart.
I slam back the shot in front of me and stand up.
“I’ll have her number and be buying her a drink in the next ten minutes.” I laugh at Jumper, who just shakes his head.