The Cowboy's Bride Bet - Holly Rayner Page 0,7
I found myself getting swept up in the energy of the crowd, forgetting, however briefly, the troubles that brought me here.
When the bull rides were over, there was an intermission as they set up for the next event. My stomach growled as we made our way over to the long row of food trucks. They had every delectable deep-fried delicacy from pizza and hotdogs to cream puffs and chocolate-dipped strawberries. Since this was my first time in Texas, I opted for some street tacos. Being from Chicago meant forever being disappointed in any pizza or hotdog that wasn’t from home.
The barrel racing was far more enjoyable to watch. Rather than a battle between man and beast, this was more like a dance where the horse and rider moved in harmony. From what I understood, the score was based on speed, but they also needed to ride in a perfect clover shape around the three barrels, and any deviation from the pattern would result in a score of zero.
Absorbed in the riding events, I lost track of my worries as the sun sank below the horizon and the generators fired up, illuminating electric lights mounted on thick wooden poles all around the edge of the arena.
A loud bang somewhere behind me almost made me jump out of my skin. I turned to look over my shoulder, finding a rowdy group of cowboys laughing at their friend who had drunkenly leaned back and fallen off his perch, crashing onto the rickety metal floor panel.
Take it easy, I told myself, returning my attention to the horse and rider in the arena below. It’s understandable to be a little on edge, but you’ll attract more attention being jumpy.
“You okay?” Cassie frowned.
“Mmhm.” I forced a brittle smile, still trying to get my heart to slow down.
But no matter how much I told myself that everything was okay, my body couldn’t seem to believe it. A cold sweat covered my palms, and my senses sharpened. Every noise was the click of a gun hammer, and even in the dense crowd, it felt as if somewhere close by, the man in the tan trench coat was watching me, waiting.
I imagined what I must look like through a sniper scope. Cassie cheered beside me, and I wondered what kind of damage a bullet would do if it passed through me and hit her. This sweet kid, whose only mistake was helping out some down-on-her-luck case that wandered in out of the cold… She had her whole life ahead of her—a life I didn’t want to see cut short because of her proximity to me.
“I, uh…” I stood up. “I gotta head out. But this was a lot of fun.”
“Are you sure?” Cassie frowned. “They’re doing bareback riding after this.”
“Yeah.” I stood up, nodding as I sidestepped to the stairs. “I need to go. Enjoy the rest of the show.”
“’Kay.” She waved. “See you around!”
Shoving my hands into my pockets, I slipped out of the arena and into the sea of bodies bustling about the fairgrounds. A familiar face with a sharp jawline and deep-set dark eyes disappeared behind one of the souvenir booths.
It can’t be…
I kept my line of sight low enough to avoid making eye contact with anyone, terrified that I might catch the cold dark eyes of Moretti’s henchman. The man in the brown trench coat had haunted my nightmares ever since St. Louis, and now, even after getting some sleep, my mind was playing tricks on me.
You’re just paranoid. I made a conscious effort to slow my breathing. There’s no one there—it’s impossible.
I picked up the pace, walking in a zigzag pattern between the clusters of people going to and from the parking lot. Jogging back across the street toward the Cozy Dog Motel, I reached my door, nearly dropping my keys as I struggled with the lock. I bit my lip, slamming the door behind me and sliding to the floor, chest heaving as wave after wave of panic surged through my body.
Crawling to the window, I perched on the balls of my feet, crouching to peer through the blinds. I half expected a face to be staring back at me from the other side of the glass, but the parking lot was shockingly empty, with two of the cars that had been there the night before gone. I exhaled a heavy sigh, crumpling to my knees and pressing both hands to the sharp ache in my chest.
Moretti won’t even have to take me