That takes more than bad intent.
That takes knowledge.
Circuit knowledge.
I press my thumb against the edge of the counter and let the pieces line up the way they've been trying to for days, the way I kept stopping them from doing because I didn't want to land where they were pointing.
Someone from the rodeo world who knows how the equipment works.
Someone who knew I was coming back to rodeo again.
My jaw tightens.
Because it's not just about the sabotage anymore. It wasn't just about the rides, or the other riders getting hurt, or the warning left in my trailer like a message slipped under a door.
It's connected. All of it.
The land. The rodeo. The buried evidence. The watching.
Someone is trying to shut this down before it goes any further, before whatever got buried out there finds its way into the light. And they're not being subtle about it anymore.
Which means they're scared.
Scared people make mistakes.
But scared people also make things worse before they make mistakes.
I turn that over, feeling the weight of it settle in my chest, heavy and certain in a way that doesn't leave room for doubt.
This stopped being random the second that note appeared.
Now it’s about Riley too… and whatever’s buried on that land.
And whoever left it…
Already knows exactly where to find me.
I find Lane first.
He's where he usually is after a night like this, around the back of the stock pens, checking on his bulls with the kind of quiet attention most people save for things that can talk back.
Lane Carter has always been like that. Steady. Observant. The kind of man who notices everything and says about half of it.
Right now, I need both.
"Figured you'd find me eventually," he says, without looking up.
I lean against the rail beside him, letting the silence sit for a second before I get into it. "The gate that stuck tonight. The rope last week. You see any of it up close?"
He's quiet for a moment, his hands moving over the latch on the nearest pen with practiced ease. "Saw enough."
"And?"
He finally looks at me. "That rope didn't slip on its own, Jace."
I nod, because that's what I needed confirmed out loud by someone who knows the difference. "Anything else?"
"Somebody's been in the equipment area after hours." He says it flat, like a fact he's been sitting on. "Twice that I know of. Could be more."
