Games of the Heart (The 'Burg #4)(125)

Mike’s eyes drifted to the mechanical bull to see Jerra climbing on it with Dusty on the sidelines jumping up and down, clapping, shouting and more bits of sawdust that she hadn’t swiped off drifting from her clothes and hair.

Mike’s eyes went back to Rivera. “I’m not certain the punishment fits the crime.”

Rivera threw his head back and laughed.

Mike did not. He watched Jerra and the bull start up then, ten seconds later, he watched the bull throw wide a giggling herself sick Jerra.

Still chuckling and clearly immune to this nightmare due to constant exposure, Rivera belatedly replied, “Bro, I think I gotta agree.”

Mike’s eyes slid to his woman and he saw two cowboys encouraging her to have another go. He also knew why they were. Tee tight across her tits and her ass looked way too f**king good in those jeans.

Therefore, he lost his patience.

So he put his fingers to his mouth, whistled loud and sharp then took them out and immediately shouted, “Yo, Dusty!”

Her eyes shot to his.

He shook his head then he lifted his hand and crooked a finger at her.

If she didn’t haul her ass immediately back to the table, Mike was prepared to stalk her way, remove her from the clutch of cowboys she’d been entertaining the last fifteen minutes, throw her over his shoulder and take her back. Luckily, she did some head shaking, some “I’m sorry” smiling, grabbed Jerra’s hand and headed their way.

As for the night, the good news was, Schub’s barbeque was the best he’d ever tasted, hands down. The beer was chilled so cold it was nearly icy and went down smooth. Rivera was just as likeable in person as he was over the phone. Jerra was petite, brunette and had some meat on her in all the right places. She was also a f**king nut.

She and Dusty graduated quickly from beer sipping to tequila shooters then the night went bad.

“Seriously, Mike, no joke. You Indiana boys got it goin’ on,” Rivera stated, a smile in his voice and Mike just barely was able to tear his eyes from Dusty making her way through cowboys and cowgirls at the very crowded restaurant/saloon/“hoedown” to their table to look at him. “I whistled and crooked my finger at Jerra, her head would split open and fire would shoot out. How do you do it?”

“We keep that secret in Indiana. I’d be lynched if I shared,” Mike replied.

Rivera grinned. Then his eyes shifted over Mike’s shoulder and the grin died a very quick death.

Mike looked over his shoulder, saw nothing but cowboys, cowgirls, rough wood paneling, tables and ropes, saddles, bridles and various cattle equipment on the walls but he heard Rivera muttering, “Fuck. Beau.”

Mike’s scan took on focus and there he was. Mike recognized him from the one time he’d seen his picture on the display of Dusty’s phone. Again wearing what was clearly his uniform, pearl snap button jeans shirt and faded jeans. Dark hair. Tall. Lean. Good-looking. Eyes narrowed on Dusty.

Mike moved instantly. This was because LeBrec was closer to Dusty than Dusty was to the table. This was also because LeBrec’s intent was clear in his narrowed eyes.

He knifed from his chair, felt and heard Rivera move with him and he prowled toward LeBrec the instant LeBrec started stalking toward Dusty.

Unfortunately, the place was packed and Mike couldn’t toss people out of his way. Also unfortunately, Dusty and Jerra were giggling about something therefore they didn’t notice the threat approaching. LeBrec made it to them before Mike and Rivera were even close.

But it was then LeBrec made an even bigger mistake than he’d already made by simply approaching Dusty.

Jerra saw him first and even though she was at least two inches shorter than Dusty and thus seven inches shorter than LeBrec, she positioned herself between him and Dusty. The instant she did, he put a hand on her and shoved her out of the way.

And he didn’t do this gently.

She went flying into the back of a cowboy who clearly had better manners than LeBrec because he twisted quickly and caught Jerra before she landed on her ass.

But Mike learned in that instant that you absolutely did not, under any circumstances, and especially these, put your hand on and shove the wife of an easygoing, laidback, quick-to-laugh half-Mexican-American man, that wife also being the mother of his children.

“Yo! What the f**k?” Mike heard thundered from behind him. Then Rivera had passed Mike and was clearing the way, shouldering past folks who were quickly feeling the vibe so suddenly Rivera found his way was clear.

It was then Mike noted that he had a different situation on his hands and that was keeping a good man and loving husband, who also happened to be a cop, from doing something that might get him reprimanded or, from the look on Rivera’s face, losing his badge.

Mike was six foot one. Rivera couldn’t be taller than five ten. Therefore, Mike used his long leg span to get him to a LeBrec who was so focused on Dusty he didn’t feel the threat coming at his flank.

Mike got to him first, grabbed a wrist, slammed his knee into the back of LeBrec’s and, not expecting it, LeBrec instantly went down to both while Mike twisted his wrist behind his back. Moving so swiftly LeBrec didn’t have a chance to begin to defend himself, Mike grabbed his other wrist and yanked it behind his back, pulling both up so LeBrec’s torso was forced toward the floor. Then Mike bent at the waist and got close.

“Advice, ass**le, keep your shit,” Mike growled in his ear. “I am not happy you won’t clue in about Dusty but you just put your hand on Rivera’s woman and now you got on your hands a man who’s seriously not happy.”