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As I rummaged through my bag, my heart pounded in my chest, resonating with the fear of being in this seedy part of town. This was the hub of the underground Nightfall Rodeo, the town’s well-kept secret.
Law enforcement turned a blind eye to the unsanctioned event, too wary to interfere with the Dust Devils, the local gang orchestrating the spectacle. The danger wasn’t exclusive to the bucking bulls.
My purpose here wasn’t the thrill of the rodeo.
I was in search of my sister.
My stupid, naïve, lovable, reckless, fucking sister.
After handing over the money, I glimpsed the man’s twisted smile. He motioned me toward the stands. His eyes shone with a secretive amusement in the sinking sunlight. “Better be quick, sweetheart. The betting ends in ten. And remember, no phones, no pictures. We like our secrets here.”
“Understood,” I murmured, my voice wavering with a mix of anxiety and excitement.
“Good girl.” His eyes, as sly as a fox, raked over me. “Nightfall Rodeo ain’t for the faint of heart. Just keep your head low and steer clear of the Devils. You’re too pretty to be on their radar.”
A shudder ran through me. This place evoked painful memories; I could almost envision my father’s ghost smirking in the background.
I made my way toward the arena, and the crowd was electric, erupting into a frenzy every time a bull charged into the ring, wild and primal as the riders tried to tame them.
The spectators were a fascinating mix of rowdy small-town folk in sweat-stained overalls and knockoff cowboy hats. Their infectious energy hummed through me.
Before I could adjust to the chaotic environment, a sudden collision pulled me back.
A solid chest.
A towering figure.
A brooding stare fixated on me.
“Careful, gorgeous,” a rough voice clipped through my senses as two powerful hands gripped my shoulders, preventing me from toppling over.
My heart leaped to my throat as I stumbled, looking up to meet the eyes of a man who was the embodiment of dark and lethal. His striking features were framed by a five o’clock shadow and a thin scar trailing down his right cheek. It was the cherry on top of his bad boy sundae.
We locked eyes, and everything else fell away, leaving just him and me.
He was beautiful. In a tragic, murderous sort of way.
“Sorry, didn’t see you there,” he murmured, the deep resonance of his voice made a delightful quiver shoot through me.
Stumbling over my words, I choked out, “No problem,” heat flushing my cheeks under his heavy gaze. He reluctantly released me and a hiss escaped my lips.
A crooked smile tugged at his lips, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Well, I might as well introduce myself then. Declan.”
His hand hovered midair in greeting, tempting me. His strong fingers reflected the hard work of a cowboy, the rough life of a rodeo rider. There was something about the steady control beneath his rugged exterior that was magnetic.
Swallowing my doubts, I extended my hand, my pulse thundering as our hands met, sparking an electric charge.
“I’m Clover,” I whispered, trying to ignore the rush of excitement.
His intense gaze didn’t waver. “Clover, what brings a pretty girl like you to a place like this? Did you come to see me ride?”
Surprised, I sputtered, “Do all the girls fall for that line?”
His deep chuckle stirred a flutter in my stomach. “I don’t need to make ’em fall, darlin’. They tumble all on their own. Though for you, I might enjoy the chase.”
I could feel my cheeks warm, a thrill spiking my veins. His brazen confidence, the dangerous allure—it was intoxicating. As much as I hated to admit it, he had me hooked.
A mischievous glimmer danced in his eyes as he continued, “Tell me, Clover, do you come here often? Are you a fan of the rodeo?”
