Before she could respond, though, he said, “Forgot something, but I’ll be right back. Just stay here.” His smile was a little too bright to go with his dark eyes.
He sauntered back toward the men lingering outside, his hands relaxed at his sides, swinging like he didn’t have a care in the world, but she knew different. She’d felt his anger.
He made his way back to the cowboys, and in the shadows of the arena wall, she could make out a blur of moment.
Shoot! She shoved open the door and scrambled out, but that man didn’t need any help. He was already headed back her way, a smirk on his lips and confidence in his gait. Oh, his knuckles were busted and bleeding, but he didn’t favor them as he held the door, waiting for her to get back into his truck.
“Did you just beat them up?”
Dead shrugged. “They talked about you and made you mad. They won’t make you mad anymore.”
“Dead,” she whispered, “you can’t just beat up everyone who says something annoying.”
“Why not?” he asked.
“Because…” Well, why not? “Because…oh heck, I don’t know. It’s against the rules or something.”
“What rules are you living by, Raven? The human ones? Those don’t count in cowboy country. They pop off, lookin’ for a fight, and we give ’em a fight.”
“But…what if they call the police?”
“I’ve had, like, five fights with those assholes. The police would just tell them to stop pissin’ me off.” After he shut the door beside her, she watched him stride around the front of the truck.
Dead was dangerous. If that much wasn’t clear from the way he’d bucked and gone after that rider as an animal, it was clear as crystal with him fighting riders as a human. He wasn’t even traumatized. He just wiped his bloody knuckles on his shirt and turned the engine over. It roared to life.
“Do you fight a lot?” she asked, her voice wrenched up higher than she’d intended.
“I don’t know. What counts as a lot?”
“Once a week?”
“Oh, hell yeah,” he said with a laugh. “Easy. Those riders can’t keep their mouths shut. It’s like they enjoy getting punched.”
“Do they ever punch you back?”
“Yeah.” When Dead turned toward her in the interior light of the truck, she could see it. His eye was swelling on his left side. “Don’t go feeling sorry for them, Sugar Tits? This is part of the life.”
“The life,” she repeated softly.
“We don’t call the cops or threaten to sue or throw a glass of wine in each other’s face, Raven.” He made a fist, and the cuts on his knuckles bled. “This is how we settle disputes. No one is allowed to talk to you like that. You understand? And if I ain’t around? You better not be letting them talk to you like that either. You’re a Hagan. You’re a true black monster from birth, a longhorn shifter, and I would bet my boots you never sawed your horns down. What do you measure at?”
“Uhhh…that’s personal.”
“Fuck personal, be proud of your animal. I know you have the measurements. How big?”
She swallowed hard, but her answer still barely came out of her tightening vocal cords. “Ninety-six inches.”
A slow, proud smile stretched his face. “Ninety-six. Inch. Horn spread. Never forget who you are, Raven. And don’t let mouthy humans forget it either.”
Chapter Five
“I like this way better than a mansion,” Raven said as she stared at the huge camper sitting in an RV park just outside the arena.
“It’s new. This is my first trip with it. Cheyenne has us flying to events, but this one was close enough to haul our campers to. Quickdraw’s is over there.” He pointed to a big black camper attached to a huge black truck. “And that one over there is Two Shot and Cheyenne’s. They bought theirs when I bought mine. They seem to like it. It’s better than hotels. I always feel trapped in a hotel.”
“Because of the small space?” she asked, taking his offered hand as she climbed the three steps to the door he held open on his camper.
“Just too many humans. I feel like a sardine, crammed in with all them. I’m staying at Two Shot’s ranch for a while, though, and Quickdraw had a camper, so I decided to look into them. Bought this last week and named him Big Daddy.”
She giggled. “Perfect name. Ooooh, this is nice!” Inside to the right was a bedroom up a few stairs, and straight ahead, there was a small kitchen complete with granite countertops and a little stove and microwave and stainless-steel sink. To the left, there was a good-sized TV across from a leather couch, and even a little dining table. On the back wall of the camper was a bunkbed with mattresses and fancy comforters. This thing was nice!
“It’s thirty-two feet long. Two feet bigger than Quickdraw’s,” he said with his lips twisted into a cocky smirk.
“Your knuckles are already healing,” she pointed out as she looked at his hand resting on the edge of the dining table.
“Yeah, by morning there will be no evidence of a fight.”
“Wow, I don’t heal that fast!”
“I eat a lot of steaks.”
Her eyes went so round they dried out almost instantly. “You eat cow?”
Dead waggled his eyebrows. “I can eat cow whenever you want.”
She snickered and crossed her arms over her chest. “Okay, Mr. Famous Bull Shifter. What are you cooking me?”
“You aren’t as shy as I thought.”
Scrunching up her face, she said, “Being shy is annoying sometimes.”
“Yeah, but you’re fine in small groups. Just not in crowds. And who likes big crowds anyway? I don’t.”
“You’re just being nice so I don’t feel so bad,” she murmured, dropping her gaze to the nice wood flooring. “This thing must’ve been very expensive.”
“It’s half paid off so my monthly payment isn’t bad. I used my winnings from the last event on it. Figured it was a good investment.”
“I’d say.”
“Chicken.”
“I’m not a chicken,” she said.
“No, I mean I’m making you chicken tonight.” He opened a fridge door and pulled out a package of chicken legs and a bag of zucchini.
“It’s so crazy that you can cook in here,” she murmured, in awe of what all this little home could do.
“Of course, but I’ll probably never use that stove,” he said, pointing to it with a pair of tongs. “I have a grill outside. Want to grab us a couple drinks? I’ll go turn on the fire.”
“Okay,” she said and made her way to the fridge. She grabbed a couple of canned orange sodas and then washed her hands in the little kitchen sink. There were three sharp knifes attached to a strip of strong magnet on the wall above the sink, so she went to work, washing and cutting up the zucchini into spears.
“You don’t have to do that,” Dead said as he came back inside. “I’ll cook for you. Go sit on down and relax.”
“I like cooking. Plus, we’re a pretty good team, as was super-evident from our work at the signing table tonight. I’ve never seen anything like that.”