Page 114 of Rainbow Rodeo

Reeling back, Rocket clutched his belly. “Dalton!”

“You stay away from me.” He caught one cheek, his class ring making a fine slice in Rocket’s face. “You stay away from my people.” The next blow was defensive, blocking Rocket’s wild haymaker. “You don’t take one more picture of me.”

Fuck, this felt good.

Rocket stumbled to the side and went down to one knee. “Goddamn it, Dalton! If you weren’t such a fucking whore I wouldn’t have to go to such lengths.”

He kicked Rocket with all he had, right in the gut. “You get the fuck out of here, and you don’t come back, you sorry bastard, or I will make you pay and pay.”

Rocket climbed to his feet, wheezing, then spat blood off to one side. “You can’t kick me out. I paid my fee.”

“You want it back?” he snarled.

“No, I want to ride.” Those green eyes snapped at him, and he couldn’t believe he’d ever thought they were anything but ugly.

“You really want me to blackball your ass, do you?”

“I want you to admit you’re making a fucking mistake.” Rocket came at him, hands balled up.

“I’ve already done that. I slept with you.” He swept around Rocket, then grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved, rammed the motherfucker into the nearest trailer.

Rocket gagged, landing on his hands and knees. “Dal—”

“Dalton?” Tank’s voice shocked the hell out of him.

“This got nothin’ to do with you, Tank. Go on.”

Tank moved up behind him but didn’t crowd him. “You sure you’re all right?”

“Right as rain.” His lip curled, and he stepped back. “Get up and go.”

“I’ll—”

“You’ll what? You want to send pictures, you send ’em. I ain’t ashamed. You want to die here like the piece of shit you are? I can fucking arrange that. This is my rodeo. My fucking name is on the sign. Not yours.”

Rocket looked at him, face twisted with rage, then at Tank, who Dalton couldn’t see. “I’ll go, but this isn’t over.”

Tank snorted. “Oh, I think it is, son. You’re the one all beat up. Dalton’s had his say.”

“You have thirty seconds before I lose my temper.” Dalton pursed his lips at the sight of his twin and sister turning the corner. Shitheads. They never would leave good enough alone. “And I see Dustin and Deb coming, and she’s armed. You’d best run.”

Rocket ran. Figured that the bastard was more afraid of Deb than anyone.

“You okay?” Tank asked quietly.

“Prolly bruised my knuckles.” He felt pretty fucking good, if he was honest. “We had a couple things to discuss.”

“Looks like you got it said.”

“Looks like.” He’d had enough, hadn’t he? Yessir.

“Good deal. We gonna talk on it later?”

“Yeah. I think we ought.” Things were going to have to be out in the open.

“Okay. We got to go warm up now, though.” Tank caught him when he would have walked on by, reeling him in for a short kiss. It liked to blister him down to the ground.

He felt ten feet tall and as invincible as the mountains in Colorado he loved so much.

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