Blaze (Missoula Smokejumpers Book 5) Read online

  Mr. Smith. Well, at least a few of the boys had manners. He sniffed as he walked closer, studying the man’s swollen eyes and broken nose. “Bobby, you’re a shithead. Do you know that?”

  Bobby tried to open his eyes as he moaned, his head lolling down. Wheezing, he coughed before managing to spit out a string of blood and bile.

  Bam!

  Punching Bobby in the gut, Mr. Smith held back a volley of punches. He had shit to do today. Last thing he needed was an injured hand. Too many eyes on him. Too many questions. “Now, Bobby, you were like a brother to me. A damn brother. I treated you with respect. Gave you a roof over your head, a job so you could feed your face with booze, wet your dick with hot pussy, even though you have a beautiful wife. A lovely family. All I asked was a little respect in return. And how do you repay me?”

  Another strangled wheeze came from Bobby’s distorted mouth. “Ba… ba…”

  “That’s okay. Don’t bother. You betrayed me. Plain and simple. Not sure what you thought you were doing spouting off that fat mouth of yours.” Mr. Smith took a step away, rubbing his jaw. “What the fuck am I going to do with you?”

  “Monster,” Bobby hissed.

  Sucking in his breath, Mr. Smith tapped his foot. Yeah, he was a monster all right. The damn punks just didn’t know how much. Everyone would learn. Everyone. His thoughts drifted for a few seconds. Time to even the score. Time to take back what was owed to him. Time to sit on his throne.

  “Well, boy, you leave me no choice. I can’t have any of my employees running around telling lies. Just can’t have it. Gentlemen. You know what to do. Make sure only the vultures have an opportunity to find him. I have a few things to attend to that require my full attention.” As he walked out of the barn, he glanced at the group of horses, their terrified eyes watching his every move. “Your turn is soon enough, you mongrels.”

  “And the clock is running. Let’s see if he can do it!” the announcer’s voice boomed over the cheering crowd.

  “That’s it. That’s it! He’s done it! Boone Martin just stole the show, ladies and gentlemen, coming in at 3.4 seconds! A new record. We have a winner!”

  Those had been the days of glory. Shit. As if they were going to happen again.

  Boone adjusted his sunglasses before yanking his leather gloves from the back pocket of his jeans. The atmosphere was rowdy, cowboys from several surrounding states filling the area, waiting for the event to start. Perhaps he had no business being here. He hadn’t competed in any events on the rodeo circuit since leaving Texas. What had spurned him to try out? Fuck if he knew. The concept of even being able to qualify was ridiculous. He was the old man in a crowd of cowboys he’d consider wet behind the ears, yet the memories were bittersweet.

  Exhaling, he kicked his boot into the dirt and eyed the approaching smokejumpers. Not a single one of them had believed he’d registered for the Missoula Stampede. Given the sun was bright in the sky, the breeze light and the stadium seats were a good three quarters full, this was the perfect day to make a fool of himself. Well, he had the number plastered on his back to prove he’d actually entered the contest.

  “You are here,” Sawyer Lincoln grinned as he held out his hand, shaking Boone’s profusely. “The latest hero on the team.”

  “I told you I would be,” Boone commented as Stoker Hansen advanced, a huge grin on his face. Sawyer was the only one who knew anything about his past life, until recently. “And I’m not anybody’s hero. I just happened to be there.”

  “Right. Tell that to the girl you saved from the frigid waters.” Sawyer nudged his arm.

  Stoker whistled as he flanked Sawyer’s side. “You look like a true cowboy, hat and all. Befitting a person wrangler.”

  “Stop. All of you,” Boone hissed. The entire rescue event had turned into a circus and he had a bad feeling he was going to be on the nightly news. Even the local firefighters had given him their respect.

  “Didn’t know you had it in you,” Garcia Puevos chortled and slapped Boone on the back.

  “A hell of a lot you don’t know about me. You boys never ask.” Boone grinned as he nodded to the others. He continued to be happy with his decision to leave Texas, even though in his heart, he’d always be a rodeo man first, a smokejumper second. At least his team had taken his announcement seriously, but the admittance had been after several shots of tequila at Ziggy’s just a few nights before. Almost every jumper had burst into laughter.

  Antonio Giovanni kept his expression bland as he glanced around the stadium. “What the hell are you doing again? I mean shit, you can throw a rope. I’ll give you that.”

  “It’s called steer roping,” Riker Sheffield stated quietly. “And Boone has to hit five seconds or less or he won’t qualify.”

  Boone raised a single eyebrow as he studied the hulking man. Since finding the love of his life, at least Riker had mellowed. Somewhat. “You’ve been checking up on me.”

  “No, that would be me and he actually listened to what I said,” Landen Weaver stated as he joined the group. Looking back and forth between then, he huffed. “What? I wanted to know what the hell we were gonna see today. Boone’s a real rodeo man. Trophies and all. If he can wrestle a person out of the Blackfoot River, he can win this damn thing.”

  “You gotta be kidding me,” Moose snickered.

  Moose Washington remained a loose cannon and one of the few Riker could only tolerate. Boone couldn’t help himself. Swaggering closer, he didn’t bother lifting his sunglasses. “First in steer roping three times, all-around cowboy twice and first and second in bareback riding a few times.”

  “Whoa,” Moose snorted as he held up his hands. “Got ourselves a bon-a-fide champion here.”

  The men laughed, and Boone glanced at his watch. Only ten minutes to go. Yep. He was nervous as fuck. For whatever reason, he’d convinced himself to do this and it just might be the most ridiculous decision he’d made in years.

  “Don’t be nervous, buddy. You can do this.” Zane Gray sucked in his breath as several ladies walked by, giving the group of men approving glances. “And, you can pick up a sexy woman or five while you’re here.”

  “Such a hot dogger,” Stoker chastised.

  “I have my priorities straight,” Zane insisted. “Where the hell is Steel?”

  “Had something to do he couldn’t get out of,” Moose answered.

  “Uh-huh. The man doesn’t give a shit,” Riker said through clenched teeth.

  “Oh, look what we have here.” Her voice was soft, more of a purr as she wrapped her arm around Boone’s waist. “I’m Candy. Want a lick? These are my girls, Brandy and Fawn. We love cowboys. Don’t we, ladies?”

  “Every long lick of them,” Brandy said as she moved her way into the group of men. “I’ve seen you boys around. Aren’t you famous or somethin’?”

  “Or something,” Riker muttered.

  “Brandy, Candy and Fawn. Sounds like an eighties rock band,” Landen said under his breath as he stepped back.

  Boone couldn’t help but laugh yet he noticed the second group of ladies approaching. The women the various smokejumpers belonged to were already showing signs of being pissed. Maybe rage. Other women invading on their turf. There were days he was glad he wasn’t attached. However, a mud wrestling match might be fun to watch.

  “Y’all are so damn sexy. We love to play. You boys want to go out for a drink after this is all over?” Fawn asked as she ran her hand across Garcia’s arm and back, pursing her violet stained lips.

  “Got a party to go to, girls,” Sawyer answered.

  “Do we get an invite?” Brandy asked.

  “We can be downright kinky, if you know what I mean,” Candy purred and allowed her hand to slide down from Riker’s chest to his groin, her fingers brushing back and forth.

  Riker grabbed her wrist, twisting, a slight growl rumbling from his throat.

  “Ouch! Although, I like it rough.” Candy did her best to look Riker in the eye.

  “Private
party and only those people we like are invited. Now, skedaddle and find yourselves some daddies, why don’t you?” Laney Cavanaugh, Garcia’s fiancée held a look of disdain as she wrapped her arm around Garcia, standing on her tiptoes to capture his mouth. As the French kiss continued, her hands running up and down his chest, moving dangerously close to his bulging crotch, the interlopers backed away.

  “Poo. No fun. Come on, girls. Let’s find us some real men.” After giving Laney a nasty glare, Brandy huffed as she walked away, yet winked at Boone.

  “They could have been fun to play with,” Sawyer said then sighed.

  “There you go, Boone. A perfect foursome for you,” Stoker teased.

  Boone lifted his sunglasses, admiring their tight asses. “Maybe.”

  “You’re incorrigible and you boys are worse. We leave you alone for ten minutes and look what you’ve gotten yourself into?” Shannon admonished.

  “Touch and die, dear sweet fiancé.” Laney kept her gaze on the three brazen women.

  “Stop worrying, honey bunny.” Garcia pulled her close.

  Boone shot Shannon a look and shook his head. Shannon Miller had taken on the role of mother hen along with being barkeep and good friend. Tough as nails and refused to take any crap. He adored the take-no-shit attitude she wore like a badge of honor. “I can look. I don’t have a girlfriend.”

  Buzz!

  Shuddering, Boone glanced up at the score board. Only a few seconds would determine whether he was truly washed up in the industry. The odds were against him and not only because of his age. Yeah, as if being in his thirties meant over the hill, but for this rough and tumble sport, he could be. “I gotta go. Find a seat. I’m in the third event so it’ll be a little while.”

  “Hey, do good out there,” Sawyer encouraged.

  “I’ll do my best.” Shoving his hands into the gloves, he left his friends, men who would die trying to save his life, and walked into the staging area. There was no good reason for him to be at this event. He loved being a smokejumper, had given up his ranch in Texas to move to Montana for the opportunity, but there was something missing in his life. He could only hope this would fill some of the aching holes.

  He nodded to several of the participants, who gave him curious looks. In the few years that he’d been out of the circuit, almost every aspect of the rodeo had changed. Everything was digitized, processed, succinct and he also knew, corners cut. He could tell by the less than stellar equipment and the way the horses and other wildlife were handled. This part pissed him off. At least the rodeo sponsors required that a veterinarian stand by for the entire event, just in case there were any injuries to the animals. And he had a damn bad feeling about today.

  As he walked toward his horse, he could see what appeared to be a bitter argument. The feisty woman was tangling with Gerald Tucker, only the head of the Professional Rodeo Cowboy Association. She had balls bigger than the bulls in the ring.

  “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, Gerald, but this kind of treatment isn’t going to be tolerated.” Up in the man’s face, she was forced to look up as she berated the puffy faced man.

  “Ms. Parker, I assure you—”

  “That’s Dr. Parker and don’t you try and lie to me. I can smell a lie mixed in with that cheap ass cologne you no doubt purchased from Walmart.”

  “Whoa, she’s a spitfire.” A cowboy, and one of the contestants flanked Boone’s side, grinning as he folded his arms, obviously enjoying the show.

  “Who is she?” Boone had never seen her before, but he had to admit, he liked her style.

  “Dr. Parker, you need to calm down. We have certain regulations that we follow strictly,” Gerald insisted.

  “Bull. Fucking. Shit.” Dr. Parker reared back. “I’ve got your number and if any of these animals are hurt, so help me God, I’ll turn your ass in.”

  “Miss, I mean Dr. Parker, please.” Gerald’s face was beet red. “I don’t need any trouble. We have new sponsors on board and I’d like to keep them.”

  “You deserve to have PETA on your ass for the lack of care. It’s criminal!” she snapped.

  “She’s the local vet. I hear she’s a ballbuster,” the cowboy half whispered.

  But the words were loud enough that the doctor looked in their direction, narrowing her eyes.

  “Whew. Laser beams. Needs a hard fuck.” The cowboy laughed.

  Boone could tell exactly what was brewing and took a step back, fighting the laughter swirling in his stomach.

  The doctor smiled, the look almost seductive as she took long strides in the cowboy’s direction. “Are you competing today?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I am,” the cowboy said.

  “And your name?” she asked as she gave him a hard glare.

  “William Smith.”

  “Well, Bill. Billy Bob. Billster.” Her voice held a melodic tone.

  Wham!

  “Ohh!” William screeched the second she kicked him in the balls.

  “Let’s see if that helps you win, fight for what you want.” Rubbing her hands together, she strutted past Boone, hissing when she did.

  Boone realized he’d been holding his breath. Then he burst into laughter. The good doctor was only inches over five feet tall, but her punch was mighty. She also had the largest chocolate brown eyes he’d ever seen. His cock twitched, creating an aching pain given his tight jeans. “I like this girl.” Although he had to admit, the woman needed a hard spanking. The thought made him smile.

  “Fuckers.” Stasha Parker had no idea why she’d agreed to this. Sure, the extra money would be a damn Godsend since the move from San Francisco had taken almost her entire bank account. Setting up her new clinic had been on a wing and a prayer, especially given clients weren’t flying in the door. However, dealing with pompous assholes like Gerald Tucker brought out the bitchy side she’d been chastised for over the course of her profession. She’d taken a crash course in learning the ins and outs of the various rodeo events since the request for her help. A lot of what she’d read had turned her stomach. The rumors regarding the treatment of the animals on the rodeo circuit had been around for years. Now, she was seeing firsthand the carelessness as well as the lack of concern from several of the horse owners. Wasn’t this supposed to be an entertaining event?

  She stormed toward the corral, studying the way the horses had been kept. There wasn’t enough water or space, in her humble opinion. Humble? Snorting, she moved to the fence, holding out her hand. “Come on, babies.”

  The stunning black horse was the first one to trot in her direction. The single white mark on his muzzle gave him character. “What a baby. Now, why are you in the steer roping event?” She moved just inside the gate, bending down and feeling the horse’s legs.

  “His name is Blaze and you can see he’s a heartier stock than most thoroughbreds. Why his previous owner didn’t want him. He can’t race.”

  She heard the husky voice and resisted bristling. The entire group of cowboy wannabes didn’t deserve her wrath. “Beautiful name. Shame he has to deal with this bullshit. Also, a damn shame he had a shit as a previous owner.”

  “I was lucky to get him, in my opinion. This is his first time competing. No doubt his last.” The man moved beside her yet kept a solid two feet between them.

  Tipping her head, she recognized the second contestant from moments before. “Why his last? I thought you cowboys drank, ate and slept this crap.”

  “This crap, as you call it, is a sport and one revered by everyone involved. Training is difficult and the majority of men and women who endure the grueling schedule certainly can’t make a living on the rodeo circuit. Those days are long gone given the changes in the profession. No one gives a shit any longer.” He gave her a solid stare, one that didn’t include blinking, then rubbed Blaze’s nose.

  Blaze whinnied and inched closer, closing his eyes.

  Stasha sucked in her breath and watched the way the cowboy nuzzled against the horse, obviously caring for him
very much. “Well, that sucks, but doesn’t give anyone reason to treat the animals with such disrespect.”

  “I agree.” He unlatched the gate and pulled Blaze out by the reins. “Not every participant is an asshole. Just something to keep in mind.”

  As he strolled away, his gait slow, she gazed down the length of him. From his tight-fitting jeans and long, carved legs to his broad shoulders and chiseled face, yeah, she had to admit, he was stunning. “What’s your name, cowboy?”

  “Boone Martin, but don’t bother learning my name. We will never come in contact again.”

  The way he made the statement, his husky voice and quiet, if not shy demeanor was interesting. And she basically hated men. All of them. Now, he had her curiosity piqued. “Why?”

  He stopped and twisted his body, glancing over his shoulder. “Because this isn’t my day gig and I have no doubt I’m gonna lose.”

  She remained silent as he walked away and whispered his name. Yeah, he was older than the kids chomping at the bit to win their first rodeo event, but she could sense he had experience. After taking a walk through the corral, making certain the other horses were in good enough condition to compete, she headed toward the staging area, finding the perfect spot to watch the competition.

  Boone’s name wasn’t in the first set of riders, but she remained, almost eager to see what the cowboy could do. The bird’s eye view was a good place to make certain the horses, as well as the bulls and steers were being treated with respect. She’d spent her entire life caring for animals and she was damn well going to make certain they weren’t abused in any manner.

  Hanging over the fence, she was surprised that she was fascinated as the bull riders came out one after the other. The audience went wild, cheering and screaming as the event continued. Everything was fast paced and before she knew it, the competition was over. She even realized she’d been rooting for two of the cowboys, especially after several had been thrown. After the riders came back in, she gave a cursory look, barking at the cowboys to get the horses water.

  Hell no, she wasn’t well liked but what the hell did she care? This was about safety and protection, not winning a congeniality contest.