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The Riders is an unofficial, illegal operation. If the Feds were to ever show up, which they wouldn’t, we’d have to immediately cease and desist any exchange of currency or bets on rides. Not that they’d believe it was all we were doing, but there’s technically nothing illegal about riding a bull in front of a crowd of spectators. The part that’s not in line with the law is the betting. Lots of money is exchanged here—a lot of dirty money. Hundreds of thousands of dollars change hands every night we ride, which is only every few weeks.
Mayor Dixon has had a field day, trying to shut it down for the last three years, but my brother Cash told me during his last call to the prison that the good ol’ mayor had started singing a different tune recently. Word has it, he’s been silently betting on rides through a few goonies to earn some extra cash flow. If that’s the case, The Riders might not be in any legal bind whatsoever for the foreseeable future, which means Redford Ranch has a lot of business lined up for bull breeding.
“Holden? Oh my gosh, is that you? I had no idea they released you! I can’t believe Cash and Sterling didn’t tell me.” A grating female voice reaches my ears.
I glance up, seeing a flash of blond hair and pink lips before looking away. “In the flesh.”
Madi giggles, inching closer and boldly placing her hand on my forearm. “I thought you were still locked up. I would’ve thrown you a welcome-home party.”
“A party doesn’t sound too welcoming to me.” I spit in the dirt, hoping she’ll get the hint and go bug someone else. Even after a few years in a men’s prison, I didn’t miss her high-pitched voice one bit.
I was sentenced to fifteen years for manslaughter, but the Texas governor granted me clemency after three and a half years in hell. Just like that, I was suddenly a free man.
“Well, I figured it wouldn’t be until the part where you snuck me off to the barn again. Remember that? The night everything happened, you and me in the hay?” she purrs, pressing her breasts into my upper arm.
I’ve gained muscle, but she’s definitely gained something that feels unnatural and plastic. There’s nothing wrong with fake tits; I just prefer them soft and pliable.
Fuck, but it’s been forever since I’ve touched a woman …
“Sure as fuck is hard to forget the night you kill a man.” I finally turn, looking her straight in the eye and expecting to see her recoil.
Instead, Madi bats her fake eyelashes and leans farther in, excitement sparkling in her blue eyes. “I sure hope prison didn’t make you forget anything from that night.”
After three and a half years behind bars for manslaughter, she’s still into me? What the fuck.
The truth is, I remember every little detail from the last time I saw Madi. It’s a story I’ve had to recount over and over, a thousand times, to law enforcement, lawyers, judges, and other inmates. After my gun ended up blowing out the brains of another human being that night, the details from the entire evening were permanently cemented into my skull.
“I gotta get going,” I tell her, stepping past her and striding toward the parking lot, shoulders back.
A few faces turn to stare at me, everyone clearly taking this moment to suddenly pay attention to detail. My skin is heated from all the eyes on me and the stark difference the outside world is from being tucked away in prison. My instincts to stay on high alert and watch my back are still roaring at me.
None of them expected to see me for almost twelve more years.
“Rosie, there you are!” an excited woman’s voice calls.
My steps falter at the familiar name. I glance to my right to see a flash of copper-red hair, a shade I’d recognize anywhere on this planet. She’s only standing about six feet away. As I turn fully, her long, wavy hair swishes to the side as she stops dead in her tracks at the sight of me. Her black felt cowboy hat contrasts against her skin.
She’s staring at me, pale blue-green eyes—the color of pure tropical ocean water—taking me in like I’m a ghost. I guess, technically, I am somewhat of a ghost to these people, considering they all thought I’d be locked up for years. It must be unsettling to see a man who was in prison after murdering their neighbor out and about, roaming the streets freely a few years too early for comfort.
Rosie Lou Dixon’s perfect crimson mouth forms a flawless O, much like the last time we saw each other. I let out a deep exhale.
So many memories were made on that fateful winter night. Rosie either remembers it as well as I do or she’s terrified and can’t move out of pure fear and shock.
The girl who’s been calling her name finally reaches her.
“Rosie! Didn’t you hear me? He’s out. I just heard, he’s out.”
My eyes slide over to take in the bearer of the clearly shocking news. The girl is taller than Rosie with short brown hair. I don’t recognize her, but as soon as she sees me, she sure as hell knows exactly who I am. Her eyes pop open wide, face paling as she gasps.
“Oh shit,” she mumbles, reaching for Rosie’s hand.
Rosie stays as still as a statue, again tearing my mind to three years back, when she froze in place and gawked at me in the barn, only minutes before I committed that life-altering crime.
Without thinking it through, I let my eyes trail over her grown-up frame. She was an adult woman the last time I saw her, but the years have altered her, all for the better. Her breasts have gotten bigger—quite a lot bigger from what I can see. Her hair is longer, and she’s wearing less makeup. She looks a little less innocent and a lot more … tempting.
I’m sure by now, my brother Duke has fucked her so many times that she’s got a rock on her hand and babies on her mind. I don’t look at her left hand to see before tipping my black cowboy hat in her direction, touching the brim before turning to strut out into the parking lot.
I guess it’s time I go home and tell my family that I was released, my conviction overturned. It certainly wasn’t for good behavior, although he admonished me to stay on the right side of the law once I was out.
