Page 93 of Rough Ride

“I don’t know. You tell me.” Johnny placed his booted foot next to Eli’s for comparison.

The last thing I heard was Eli muttering, “Fuck!”

41

Johnny

I thought about Sawyer’s ban from the rodeo for the next twenty-four hours, including during my practice time at Dickies Arena. The whole thing was so insanely unfair, sobiased, that I felt like I was boiling with rage. If anyone should have been kicked out of the rodeo, it should have been Appleton for the way he harassed Sophie last night. Going behind the bar, demanding a kiss and getting the crowd to chant for him. Then grabbing her by the arm and calling her a cunt.

I had always known there were favorites in the rodeo. Hell, there were favorites in theworld, no matter what you were talking about. Privileged assholes who strutted around like they were hot shit, and got away with everything. But this was so much worse than someone getting preferential treatment.

This was so downrightwrongthat it fundamentally changed the way I felt about the rodeo.

It distracted me during my practice rounds, causing me to fly from the practice bull, landing on my back in the dirt. After the third time, I decided to call it a day.

When I walked into the locker room, there was one other competitor taking a shower. I couldn’t see him behind the stall curtain, but there was a familiar way he was whistling, and I recognized the boots and cowboy hat on the bench.

“Any luck rallying the troops today?” I called out.

The shower curtain jerked open enough for Eli’s face to pop out. “Abraham’s interested. But he’s the only one. Nobody else wants to risk sticking their neck out for Sawyer.”

“I had about as much luck as you,” I muttered while taking off my boots. “Sawyer hasn’t exactly made a lot of friends over the years.”

“That shouldn’t matter,” Eli insisted inside the shower. “We should all be stickin’ up for each other, goddamnit.”

“Preachin’ to the choir, friend.”

I got my boots off, and was beginning to unbutton my shirt, when the locker room door swung open and the heavy sound of boots stomped inside. But they weren’t other rodeo cowboys finishing up their practice rounds.

“Eli?” I called out in alarm. “We’ve got company.”

Two thick-necked bodyguards paused just inside the locker room, blocking the only exit. One of them nodded to someone out of sight, and then Ted Salmon appeared.

“Just the man I was hoping to speak with,” Salmon drawled, as if this were a friendly meeting. But there was a dangerous tension in the air.

I had a feeling this conversation might change how the rest of my life went.

Behind me, I heard the shower curtain scrape to the side. Eli stepped out onto the locker room tile, dripping water.

“Mister Salmon,” I said. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Pleasure’s the wrong word, Johnny,” Eli said, balling his hands into fists. “This feels like an ambush.”

“Not much of a fair fight,” I told Salmon. “Y’all outnumber us.”

“I don’t know.” Eli cracked his knuckles. “I like our odds.”

“Boys, boys, settle down.” Salmon’s jowls swayed as he shook his head. “We’re just here totalk.”

“Kinda weird, you wantin’ to talk while my balls are hangin’ out,” Eli replied.

“Then you ought to put some fucking pants on, boy,” one of the bodyguards snarled. “Don’t make us look at that.”

“Friend, you’re in a locker room!” Eli cheerfully replied. “Don’t go to the pound and act all surprised when you see a few dogs.”

“I’m not your friend,” the bodyguard snapped.

Eli took a wet step forward. “Aw, and here I thought you were flirtin’ with me.”

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