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The rodeo arena is always treacherous.
Now it’s deadly...
It’s no accident Deputy Tessa McKade is trapped with an angry bull ready to trample her to death. She quickly realizes that McKade Law is no longer enough to keep her safe—and it’s her rescuer, Braden Hayes, who stands in as her bodyguard. As they seek to stop a would-be killer, Braden will have to use all his professional skills to guard Tessa’s life.
SUSAN SLEEMAN is a bestselling author of inspirational and clean-read romantic suspense books and mysteries. She received an RT Reviewers’ Choice Best Book Award for Thread of Suspicion. No Way Out and The Christmas Witness were finalists for the Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence. She’s had the pleasure of living in nine states and currently lives in Oregon. To learn more about Susan, visit her website at susansleeman.com.
Also By Susan Sleeman
Love Inspired Suspense
McKade Law
Holiday Secrets
Rodeo Standoff
First Responders
Silent Night Standoff
Explosive Alliance
High-Caliber Holiday
Emergency Response
Silent Sabotage
Christmas Conspiracy
The Justice Agency
Double Exposure
Dead Wrong
No Way Out
Thread of Suspicion
Dark Tide
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk
Rodeo Standoff
Susan Sleeman
www.millsandboon.co.uk
ISBN: 978-1-474-08449-9
RODEO STANDOFF
© 2018 Susan Sleeman
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk
Version: 2020-03-02
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“Ready?” Tessa asked.
Braden nodded and gestured for her to go first. They wound through dark shadows toward the exit leading to the livestock pens. At the back door, Braden stopped Tessa. “We’re good to go. No sign of Vic, though.”
“He could be in the booth.”
Braden searched ahead. Spotted a man on the ground, his legs poking out behind the booth.
“Man down.” Adrenaline kicking in, Braden reached for Tessa to leave.
Something small suddenly came flying out of the booth. Little sparks of light lit the night. Explosions sounded. Quick, staccatos. Pop. Pop. Pop. Firecrackers!
The horses spooked. Thankfully, the gate was locked.
Braden took a firmer hold on Tessa and started her in the other direction. Another set of firecrackers flew into the middle of the herd. Exploded.
A horse bumped the gate. It swung open. The animals stampeded out. One after another, they barreled down the chute toward them. Toward Tessa.
Braden’s gut clenched. He hadn’t reacted fast enough. There was no easy escape from the crazed horses.
And Joshua said unto them, Fear not, nor be dismayed, be strong and of good courage.
—Joshua 10:25
Dear Reader,
I miss the days when many generations of a family often lived in the same community. There was such a sense of belonging and togetherness. A sense of working for each other’s good and just experiencing pure joy in being together. I grew up in such a situation, and even though I was the family member who moved far away, I am still richly blessed from growing up in that togetherness. Maybe you had such an experience, too, or are fortunate enough to be part of a multigenerational family in one community.
In Rodeo Standoff, Braden has never experienced the concept of a well-knit family unit, and Tessa takes her family for granted. It’s through each other’s eyes that they come to see how amazing the McKades are, and I hope you saw this, too. I have loved creating and developing this family and look forward to writing the final two books for your enjoyment.
If you’d like to learn more about the McKade Law miniseries or my other books, please stop by my website at susansleeman.com. I also love hearing from readers, so please contact me via email, susan@susansleeman.com, on my Facebook page, Facebook.com/susansleemanbooks, or write to me c/o Love Inspired, HarperCollins, 24th floor, 195 Broadway, New York, NY 10007.
Susan Sleeman
For my family, who I often took for granted growing up.
Acknowledgments
A special thank-you to Ginger Solomon for naming Tessa’s horse Copper and to Lisa Hudson for naming Braden’s horse Shadow. I greatly appreciate your help!
Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
About the Author
Booklist
Title Page
Copyright
Introduction
Bible Verse
Dear Reader
Dedication
Acknowledgments
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
Extract
About the Publisher
ONE
Tessa kept her eyes trained on the deadly threat.
The eighteen-hundred-pound bucking bull’s menacing glare stole her breath. She couldn’t think. Act. Or move.
He tossed his head, his beady eyes immediately locking on her as if she had a bull’s-eye painted on her chest. He snorted. Shifted his massive black-and-white body, ready to attack.
He was coming for her, if she didn’t do something.
But what?
She’d come to the arena for some quiet time—a moment to think and prepare for the upcoming event. Instead, she found herself alone with an animal that shouldn’t have even been there, and she had no experience handling a crazed bull. None!
Don’t panic. Keep calm. Don’t set him off.
She shot a look around the open-air rodeo arena, searching for an answer. Law enforcement had prepared her for many situations, but her deputy training never covered facing down an angry bull. Even after participating as a barrel racer in hundreds of rodeos, she knew very little about bulls, other than that they were fast when they charged. She couldn’t outrun this creature to reach the safety of the spectator stands. No human could. If she was foolish enough to try, he’d ram his horns into her body before she got to the wall. And she’d never turn her back on him, anyway. No way, when his reaction time was much faster than hers.
Then what?
Please, please show me a way out of this.
She shifted her feet. Just a few inches. Felt the gun in her ankle holster that she always carried off duty.
Slowly, she bent down, her fingers creeping along her leg. She inched her pant leg up to her knee. In one swift motion, she grabbed the gun and rose.
The bull huffed and pawed. Rubbed his head in the dirt, a sign of extreme distress.
Dumb move, Tessa. Totally the wrong choice. Her sudden change in position had spooked the huge animal. Continued movement could cause him to charge. He would slam that hard head into her body. His tipped horns still deadly, he’d toss her into the air like a rag doll as she’d seen happen in countless rodeos. Cause internal bruising at the very least, organ damage likely. Death at the worst.
She lifted the gun. Aimed. Regretted having to use it, but knew she’d have to fire if it came down to her life or the bull’s.
“Rrrrrumph. Rrrummph,” he grumbled, then started tossing his head.
He was claiming his territory, getting angrier. His charge was imminent. She sighted the gun. Dropped her finger to the trigger.
“Hey, bull,” a deep male voice called from the stands.
Tessa’s gaze shot to the far end of the arena, shocked to find a cowboy climbing a gate when no one was supposed to be there. He was silhouetted against the rising sun, his hat pulled low, his shoulders broad.
The bull swung his head toward the sound. The cowboy vaulted over the railing and dropped onto the sandy rodeo soil. “No need to use your weapon on the bull. I’ve got this.” He removed his hat and waved it at the bull. “Hey, bull, over here.”
She searched his face to see if she recognized him, but he was half a football field away, and she couldn’t make out his identity. She opened her mouth to call out to him. To tell him to get back in the stands, but something about his confident stride told her he knew what he was doing. Besides, shouting would just draw the bull’s gaze back to her.
The beast turned, his big lumbering body spinning faster than she would’ve imagined a nearly one-ton creature could move. He planted his hooves with a solid thump. She’d seen many a cowboy trampled by similar hooves and knew the severe damage they caused.
“When I get him over here,” the cowboy called out, his tone calm as if on a pleasant outing instead of facing a monstrous animal, “I want you to head for the stands. Slowly, so you don’t draw his attention again. Don’t speak. Just give a single nod if you understand.”
She tipped her head in the briefest of nods.
The bull pawed at the ground and growled, his tone low—a warning.
“Hey, bull. C’mon. Let’s get you moving.” Waving his arms again, the cowboy backed toward the return gate where bucking bulls and broncs exited an arena after the competition ride ended. Tessa knew from watching bull riding that breeders trained rodeo bulls on basic behavior, so the bull should recognize the gate once he got close and would know he could safely leave through it.
The bull started moving. Trotting at first. Then picking up speed, his head low and ready to connect with the man’s fit body.
“Go now,” the cowboy called out to her.
She backed toward the stands, keeping her eyes pinned on the grumbling animal.
One foot, then another, she told herself to keep her fear from taking hold and making her bolt for the stands.
Inch by inch, she moved, making sure she didn’t add even a smidge of extra movement.
The powerful cowboy stood tall. Her rescuer. Confident. Brave. Her hero.
The bull reached full speed. Hooves thundered over the soil. Rapid. Racing.
God, please, she begged as she continued to back away. If You’re there, please keep this cowboy safe.
* * *
Braden kept waving his arms to make himself a target. He had to. The bull could turn on a dime and still charge the woman. She was inching toward the wall just as he’d instructed. Thankfully, she didn’t bolt like a frightened calf. If she did, he couldn’t do anything to stop this monster from chasing her down.
Once she was safe, he fully intended to question her about her reason for being here with a bucking bull. Just as important, the law enforcement officer in him wanted to know why she was armed for a visit to a public arena.
“C’mon now!” Adrenaline he hadn’t felt since leaving professional bull riding raced through his body.
The bull charged closer, his hooves kicking up dirt.
Twenty feet. Fifteen. The urge to run grew with each step, but Braden stayed firmly planted in place to keep the bull moving forward. At the last second, he would climb the gate to get out of harm’s way.
Timing was everything.
Ten feet. Five feet.
Just a little longer. Hold steady.
One second. Two. Three.
He jumped up. Clasped the steel railing. His heels hooked onto metal rails and held fast. The bull continued his course. Plowing closer. Pummeling the ground.
Five seconds to impact. Braden held his breath. The bull swerved right and charged through the return gate as his training dictated.
Braden blew out a breath. Jumped down and swung the gate closed. He secured the latch. The bull peered over his shoulder, his gaze still menacing.
“I’m not sorry to ruin your fun, fella.” Braden let out another long breath, the adrenaline riding out on a wave of air.
Footsteps pounded on concrete, heading toward him. He spun. Saw the woman running along the lower-level spectator fence. How she hadn’t collapsed in a puddle of relief, he had no idea. Most people would have fallen apart after narrowly escaping a run-in with a bull. But, on the other hand, most people would have had the sense to avoid that kind of showdown in the first place.
Braden crossed the grounds to give her a piece of his mind for putting herself in this situation. Lifting his hat, he swiped away perspiration with a handkerchief. Always hot in Texas in the summer, forecasters predicted this Fourth of July weekend in Lost Creek to be a scorcher, and he already missed his air-conditioned apartment in Austin.
Head down, her hat shadowing her face, the woman threw a leg over the top of the fence. He didn’t want her to get hurt climbing down, so he slammed his hat back on and offered his hand.
She looked up. Fixed her gaze on him.
Tessa McKade.
He hadn’t seen her since he quit riding bulls six years ago. Not even when he volunteered at the events to promote the sport of bull riding. Not surprising he hadn’t run into her, he supposed. He’d mainly worked PBR—Professional Bull Rider—events dedicated solely to bull riding, and she was a barrel racer.
He reached up to lift her down by clasping his hands on her trim waist. She smelled like apple pie and sunshine and all things American, as he’d known she would if he’d ever come close enough to engage in a conversation with her.
Just touching her caught him unaware for a moment. He thought to let go but held on long enough for her sapphire blue boots below her nicely fitting jeans to hit the dirt. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine thanks to you.” She frowned. “Well, maybe my pride is a bit damaged from needing to be rescued by the great Braden Hayes.”
Surprised to hear his name, he was caught off guard. “You know who I am?”
She shoved a wispy strand of fiery-red hair up under her hat. “Everyone in the rodeo world knows a two-time PBR champion.”
He tried not to frown, but he hated that people saw him only as a PBR champion, when he’d done so many important things since those days. Of course, he should’ve expected it when he volunteered for rodeo events and put himself back in the spotlight. He didn’t much like that part of the PR gigs, but he wanted to give back to a sport that he’d once lived for. For such a cause, he would put up with the way others gushed over him.
He met her gaze. “I don’t believe I’ve had the honor of officially meeting the great Tessa McKade. What is it, eight or nine years running as the local barrel racing champ?”
Her mouth dropped open as if she found it unbelievable that he knew her name or anything about her for that matter. But he did. Or, at least, he thought he did from watching her compete for several years before he retired. Her earnest and naive personality had been refreshing in a place where scantily dressed women threw themselves at him just because he could stay on a bull’s back for eight seconds. She had been in her early twenties back then and rarely interacted with others on the rodeo circuit. Most of what he knew about her had come secondhand, or been observed from a distance. Still, something about her coffee-colored eyes that seemed to see the world in a different way had caught his notice.
She speared him with a tight gaze, but it quickly softened. “Nine years, but that’s not important. I need to thank you for saving my life.”
“What in the world were you doing in here with a bull, anyway?”
“It’s not my fault.” She lifted her chin and eyed him. “I was here first. Someone added the bull later. I didn’t even know it was here until I turned to leave.”
Say what? “Bulls aren’t quiet creatures, so how’s that even possible?”
She pointed at headphones circling her neck and turned to peer in the other direction. “I was in the middle of the arena, facing away from the gate. I left it open when I came in. No biggie as there isn’t supposed to be any livestock here at this hour.”
She paused and shook her head. “Anyway, I was listening to the announcers call my past rodeos. It’s my pre-rodeo ritual every year. Get in here at sunrise each morning for a couple of days before livestock and participants arrive. Sit in the middle of the arena listening to the past rodeos to psyche myself up for the upcoming one.”
“So who wants you dead, Tessa?”
“Dead?” Her wide-eyed gaze met his. “No one that I know of.”
“Well, someone does.”
Her mouth fell open, and she gaped at him. “You think someone put the bull in here to kill me?”
“Don’t you?”
“Honestly, not until you mentioned it.” She shot a look around the area. “I mean I haven’t really had a chance to think about it. For someone to kill me, they would have to know I’d be here and I...” She clapped a hand over her mouth.
“What?” he asked.
“The local news did a story about me the other night. I mentioned this pre-rodeo ritual. Means plenty of people would know I’d be here today.” She bit down on her lip for a moment. “But still, murder? That’s a little far-fetched.”
“C’mon, Tessa. You’re not thinking straight. We’re talking about a bucking bull weighing nearly a ton. Putting an animal like that in an enclosed ring with an unprepared person is tantamount to murder.”
She wrung her hands together and tears looked imminent before she faced the chute where the bull was still shuffling around and huffing. A violent shudder claimed her body.
She was upset now. He suspected it was far more than the near run-in with an angry bull. His blunt talk about murder was likely the cause, but he needed to be frank to get her to realize the danger she’d been in. The danger she could still be in.
“I hate to admit it, but I guess you’re right.” She sighed. “Seems like someone did try to kill me, but why?”
“Since this attempt involved a bull, we could be looking at one of your competitors.” He held up a hand when she looked like she planned to argue. “And before you think that’s too crazy, my years as a homicide detective prove that people don’t always think rationally. They commit murder for the craziest of reasons, and if they fail, they often try again until they succeed.”
She looked at him then and stared, her full lips pursed. He’d had many a thought about those lips back in the day. She might have been more of a tomboy then, but her innocence had drawn him like a magnet. He’d never followed his attraction as he avoided serious relationships, and she seemed like a serious kind of woman.
She swallowed hard. “You went into law enforcement?”
“Austin PD.”
She tilted her head in question. “I never pictured you as a cop.”
“Never thought you pictured me at all.” He grinned at her.
A flush of red surged over her face. How cute. She was still a breath of fresh air. He had to admit the fact that she’d given him more than a passing thought warmed his heart, and he widened his smile.
She ran a hand over her hair as if embarrassed and she was trying to smooth it away. Even cuter.
“Why law enforcement?” she asked.
He was enjoying the innocent flirting, but he wouldn’t continue and make her more uncomfortable. “I was looking for the same adrenaline rush I got from bull riding.”
“And did it pan out that way?”
Thoughts of his former partner, Paul, going off on his own while hopped up on adrenaline came to mind. Paul had lost his life that day, and Braden started questioning his reasons for being a cop. Not something Tessa needed to know about, so he simply shook his head. “But I found out I loved the job and worked my tail off to move up to homicide detective. So I know what I’m talking about when I say you’re in danger. I noticed the lock to the gate was cut when I came in. Means we aren’t looking for someone with a key, but can you think of anyone who might be responsible?”
“I’d hate to think one of my competitors would stoop this low just to stop me from winning again.”
“Then who?”
“I don’t know. Someone related to my job, maybe. I was a patrol deputy for years, and now I’m a crime scene investigator.”
Explained the gun. “It’s a great possibility someone you arrested or you testified against is out to get you.” He made strong eye contact to drill home his next point. “Regardless of who is responsible, we need to proceed as if you’re still in danger until proved otherwise.”
Her gaze wandered to the bull again, and she fanned her face. “I need to call Harley and tell him what happened.”
Braden knew she meant Harley Grainger, President of the Lost Creek Rodeo Association, who’d also arranged to bring Braden in for the competition to help draw a bigger crowd.