Page 10 of The Wildest Ride

At six feet five inches, with a broad, muscled body, a cleft chin, square jaw, creamy brown skin, deep brown half-moon eyes, and stupidly white teeth, he looked more like an underwear model than a “retired” rodeo champion.

When he turned back to Diablo, his smile was in place. “I’m retired—just doing this to help The Old Man out. I’d planned to come back and coach for him anyway. This is just a onetime thing. Then I’m out of the arena for good and on this side of the gate.” He gestured with raised palms toward the space around him.

“Between the two of us, we could have guilted The Old Man into taking the money.”

AJ chuckled, “You tell yourself that...”

Diablo cracked a smile. “Well, not that. But we could have hosted a fundraiser. We could have talked him around to that, at least.”

Smile fading, AJ caught Diablo’s black eyes. “He’s too proud. Told me on the phone after one too many whiskeys that he thought it might be time just to let it lay to rest. Said he was too old. Claudio said he’s got diabetes now. Said he’s been doing less and less. Each year, fewer and fewer kids, things a little more run-down. He needs help—and for more than just paperwork.”

Diablo held his gaze for a silent moment before saying, “He’s entitled to his rest.”

The other man had kept his voice low, forcing AJ to listen close. It was a courtroom trick.

They knew all of each other’s tricks.

“No one denies that,” AJ said.

“But?”

“I don’t think this is the way he wants it to end.”

A pause, then, “He wants...or you?”

AJ let out a laugh that was really a groan. What was family for if not to push you through uncomfortable truths? And Diablo was family, by heart, if not by blood.

They’d been brothers since their first day at CityBoyz.

AJ had been there because his dad had just died, and his mom needed a safe place for an angry boy. If Meredith Garza needed something, she got it, and in this case, it was an after-school rodeo program for inner-city youth. But even missing his dad and looking to hurt things outside as much as he hurt inside, AJ was no match for Diablo.

And neither of them was a match for Henry.

Diablo was at CityBoyz by court order. His nana had pleaded with the judge and promised to take him in hand. She’d been at a loss as to how to do that until she’d met Henry at the grocery store. Fortunately, the judge, an old white hair with deep Texas roots, thought rodeo was just the thing to straighten out the boy. It turned out even the most challenging kid was no match for an angry bull.

Diablo was good but hadn’t taken the sport past undergrad. Back then, he said it was because he didn’t want to risk his pretty face anymore. In actuality, he had found his passion in the law. But it was rodeo that had calmed him down enough to hear its siren call, then helped him pay for college, and prepared his mind and body for the rigors of law school.

It was different for AJ. He had gone pro straight out of high school. It was only after fourteen years, three world championships, and twelve million dollars that he retired. Then there was the world tour. And now, likely, two months with the Closed Circuit—barely enough time to consider it an extension.

Finally, he answered Diablo’s question. “I know he doesn’t want to be forced out like this. This is his life’s work. What else has he got? I think he’d like to pass it on to someone.”

Diablo stared at him for a moment before speaking. “Do you think you can win?”

The question brought AJ’s smile back. “You doubt me?”

Diablo shrugged. “You’re old.”

AJ laughed, “I’m still the best there’s ever been.”

“Might have the biggest head there’s ever been.”

“Only at the tip of my dick.”

Diablo’s stare was as dry as a desert. “Real adult.”

AJ laughed, “Go ahead and pretend you’re not a filthy teenager inside. I won’t tell.”

Diablo ignored him. “Supporting your theory, The Old Man wants to register as an official nonprofit organization. That’s why I’m out here. Told him I’d come take care of it for him.”

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