Page 5 of Eight Second Hearts

I turn and leave his office before grabbing my bag from my desk drawer. I have the flight booked within the hour for the next morning.

This is it. This is my chance. I’ve covered wars. I’ve run through active bomb zones. I’ve been shot at and held hostage. Hell, I’ve been shot.

Three cowboys ain’t got nothing on me.

Chapter 2

Ram

“Alright, Ramiro Mondragon. That’ll be two fifty for the bull riding event and one fifty for the bronc riding,” the man at the desk says as he scans the paperwork. “And we’ll need all paperwork signed for all three of you.”

I nod and take the papers he hands to me. “And you included the contract for the clown?”

“Yes, sir,” the man nods. “We had it ready. Beau is a mighty fine rodeo clown, but the big bosses certainly don’t like him.”

“They never do,” I mumble, taking the contract he adds to the pile. “I’ll bring this back here in a few minutes.”

I leave the table and weave through the crowd, looking for Tripp and Beau where they lean against the wall in the darkest corner far away from everyone. More than a few people look over at us as I walk up to them. Some of those gazes are filled with jealousy. Some of them are filled with hunger. We keep to ourselves because no one ever approaches us without some ulterior motive. Either it’s the buckle bunnies or someone trying to get into our circle. Either way, it’s never a good thing. Best to keep ourselves tight knit.

I toss the top contract over at Beau. “They want you to sign that,” I explain as he catches it. A cigarette hangs out of the corner of his mouth, but it’s thankfully not lit right now. I hate the habit personally, and he knows it, but Beau is nothing if not reckless in all things he does. If that means he chain-smokes and destroys his lungs when he’s on the dirt, then so be it.

“Beau Rogers will not hold Bismark PRCA Rodeo and its partners liable for any and all injuries during his performance,” he reads, flipping through the papers. “Same old, same old. These stuffy old boomers really think I’ll be suing anyone if I get gored by a bull? Ass wipes.”

I shrug. “I don’t blame them after that stunt you pulled back in Nashville.”

Beau grins. “It looked cool though, didn’t it?”

I shouldn’t inflate his ego anymore.Dios mío, the man already has a big head. But I can’t lie to him. “Yeah,” I grunt as I hand Tripp’s papers over to him. “It looked cool.”

And it did. Beau Rogers has made his mark on the rodeo world in the most dramatic way possible. Internet famous for taking risks and performing stunts that should have gotten him killed, rodeos clamor for him to perform at their events. As long as he signs the contracts, of course. Watching a man parkour over a charging bull really puts the danger into perspective for the lawyers.

Tripp looks through the papers, making sure there ain’t nothing in it that shouldn’t be. I’ve already done that, but he likes to double check. Despite Beau and I being his most trusted friends, he still doesn’t trust anything. A daddy like he has’ll do that for you.

“They increased the dues,” he comments.

“Yeah, they did. Seems like everyone is these days,” I say, sighing. “We should be good to pay it.”

He nods. Even if we weren’t good to pay it, he’d take care of it. He always does.

I hand him the pen and he signs a small signature on the dotted line before handing it back. Beau signs his name as large as possible with big embellishments and a little heart. One of the barrel racers catches his eye, and he winks at her as he hands the paperwork back to me. She flushes and turns away, but I know she’ll look back in a few minutes.

Most women can’t resist the temptation.

I sign my own paperwork and leave the two assholes to turn it in. No one pays me much mind except to stare after me while I move. I interact with no one. I meet none of their eyes. I’m not here for them.

I’m here to ride bronc and cash out. Nothing else.

Well. . . except maybe have a good time while doin’ it.

Chapter 3

Indie

The plane ticket costs more than I’d have liked when I’m footing the bill myself. I curse my luck for getting into a position where I have to spend my hard-earned cash just to get a story, but when I pull this off, it’ll be worth it.

This early in the morning, the airport is practically empty. No one likes the red eye flight, but I wasn’t going to pay a hundred dollars extra for a little bit more sleep. I assume everyone in this airport feels the same. Most of the people look tired and worn out, but there are a few men in business suits who look like this kind of thing happens a lot. For them, it probably does. In comparison, my ripped jeans and combat boots feel underdressed, but no one gives me a second look as I hand my ticket to TSA to check before they wave me through.

I trudge along the moving walkways, looking for my gate so I can settle in to wait for boarding. The coffee shop isn’t even open yet it’s so early, so I don’t bother making any stops. I have about an hour to wait before we start boarding, which means I have time to do some research on my targets.

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