Page 119 of Roulette Rodeo
"Even better," he says, and his hazel eyes hold promises of adventure.
The late afternoon sun streaming through the windows catches the gold flecks in them, making them almost amber.
"As long as you promise to hold on tight."
RIDING INTO COMPLICATIONS
~CORWIN~
Red's squeal pierces through the afternoon air, pure joy made audible as we race faster through the wilderness.
The sound makes my heart race in a way that has nothing to do with the galloping beneath us and everything to do with the woman pressed against my chest.
"Faster!" she shouts into the wind, and her laughter—God, her laughter is like medicine I didn't know I needed. It bubbles up from somewhere deep, untainted by the years of performance she'd been forced to give. This is real, genuine delight at something as simple as riding a horse through open country.
My arms tighten around her waist as we bounce in the saddle, her smaller frame fitting perfectly against mine. The decision to have her change clothes was the right one—the dress would have been impossible for riding.Well, more importantly, after the deed with Shiloh all night long.Now she's in black tights that hug her legs, sturdy boots we'd found in the mudroom that actually fit, and a cream button-up blouse decorated with tiny embroidered cherries that she'd squealed over when Talon presented it.
"Did you buy this just for me?" she'd asked, fingering the delicate cherry pattern.
"Maybe," Talon had said with that shit-eating grin of his. "Saw it in town yesterday and thought... well, couldn't resist."
The fact that Talon is buying anything for her is a good sign, though I’m sure when Rafe finds out, he’s going to be pissed — as usual.
Her hair whips wildly in the wind now, auburn strands catching the late afternoon sun like copper fire. But it's her expression that catches me—wide eyes trying to take in everything at once, mouth open in wonder, cheeks flushed from wind and excitement. She looks alive in a way that the intelligence photos from the casino never captured.
Jackknife Ridge spreads out before us in all its cultivated wilderness.
Mountains rise to our east, their peaks already touched with early snow. Meadows roll to the west, dotted with wildflowers that shouldn't still be blooming this late in the season but do anyway, as if the land itself refuses to follow conventional rules. The forest we're riding through is old growth, trees that were here before the town, before the secrets, before everything fell apart, and we rebuilt it into something new.
Many don't know the true history of this place. How it was an abandoned wasteland after the copper mines closed in the sixties, left to rot until certain interested parties realized its potential. Not for mining, but for disappearing. For building something outside the reach of law enforcement, government oversight, and anyone else who might object to what we do here.
I've hidden so many of its residents' darkest secrets in my medical files. Bullet wounds that don't exist. Babies born to women who were never pregnant. Death certificates for people who needed to “stop existing”.
The beautiful thing about being the only doctor in fifty miles is that my word is literally law when it comes to medical facts.
The town's wooden sign comes into view as we crest the hill—"Welcome to Jackknife Ridge, Population 847."The number hasn't changed in five years, no matter how many people come or go. Another useful fiction I help maintain.
"Oh my god, it's like a movie!" Red gasps, and I feel her trying to sit up straighter to see better.
"Easy," I murmur against her ear. "Don't want you falling off at this speed."
She settles back against me, but her excitement is palpable. "Is that Main Street? Are those actual old-timey storefronts? Is that a real saloon?"
"All real," I confirm, pulling gently on Luna's reins to slow her to a trot. My mare responds immediately, well-trained and steady. "Most of the buildings date from the 1890s. We've just... maintained them carefully."
Maintained and modified. The saloon has a basement that connects to three different tunnel systems. The general store has a hidden arsenal behind the pickle barrels. The library has a panic room that could withstand a nuclear blast. But from the outside, it all looks like perfect small-town Americana.
I glance back to check on Shiloh and Talon.
They're about fifty yards behind us, maintaining tactical spacing without making it obvious. It's a habit more than a necessity—we don't expect trouble in town, but we never expected Sophia to die either, and that taught us to always have backup.
We should have waited for Rafe, tried harder to get him to come. But he's been ignoring his phone all afternoon, probably brooding in his office about Red's presence, about what she represents. The phones work fine here—we made sure of that when we installed our own cell tower disguised as a forest service fire watch station. He's choosing isolation, the stubborn bastard.
Luna comes to a stop near the town's entrance, and Red immediately leans forward to pat the horse's neck.
"You're such a good girl!" she coos. "So strong and beautiful! Thank you for the ride!"
I chuckle, swinging down from the saddle with practiced ease.
