Page 64 of Roulette Rodeo (Jackknife Ridge Ranch #1)

DANGEROUS ROADS AND DARKER THREATS

~RED~

" W E'RE ALL GONNA DIE!"

Rafe's shout rises above the chaos as the truck barrels down the steep country road at a speed that's probably illegal in at least forty-seven states.

Talon and Corwin are hollering from the back seat—though I can't tell if it's terror or exhilaration—while Shiloh grips the handle above his window so hard his knuckles have gone white.

"WEEEE!" I squeal, pressing the accelerator just a bit more as we hit a bump that sends us airborne for a heart-stopping second.

"Red!" Shiloh curses, his voice cracking slightly. "We're not trying to crash and burn down into the valley!"

The speedometer creeps past sixty-five on a road that definitely has a suggested speed of twenty-five, maybe thirty if you're feeling adventurous.

The autumn leaves blur past the windows in streaks of gold and crimson, and the engine roars with the kind of enthusiasm that makes me understand why people become adrenaline junkies.

"Oh, right!" I giggle, finally easing off the gas.

The truck starts to slow—gradually, because slamming the brakes would definitely send us into a spin—and I manage to bring us to a complete stop at the bottom of the hill. The silence that follows is deafening, broken only by the sound of four grown men trying to remember how to breathe.

"Oops." I turn around with my best innocent smile. "Was it that bad?"

Rafe's response is to throw open his door and stumble out to vomit in the bushes. The sound of his retching is both concerning and oddly satisfying—the ice king brought low by my driving skills.

Talon and Corwin, meanwhile, have dissolved into hysterical laughter.

"That was the most insane roller coaster of a truck ride I've ever been on!" Talon gasps, tears streaming down his face. "And I've been in actual combat vehicles driven by people actively trying to kill us!"

Corwin's wheezing, holding his ribs. "I think I saw my life flash before my eyes. Twice. Maybe three times on that last curve."

Shiloh sighs deeply, finally releasing his death grip on the handle. "You might as well drive a damn military tank with driving like that." He pauses, considering. "Though the only benefit is we know you'll survive these country roads. Eventually. If you don't kill us all first."

I grin with pride, bouncing slightly in the driver's seat. "Does that mean I can drive more often?"

"NO!" All four of them shout in perfect unison, even Rafe managing to croak his objection from where he's still bent over by the roadside.

"Awwww," I pout, crossing my arms in mock disappointment.

Talon laughs again, reaching over from the back seat to pat my shoulder. "A bit more practice, cherry bomb. And always having a passenger with you until you're driving like a safe driver and not a NASCAR Jeep activist trying to do ramp stunts off every hill."

"Whatever," I huff, then the words tumble out before I can stop them. "Briar taught me."

The name hangs in the air, and I feel the mood shift immediately.

My hands tighten on the steering wheel as memories flood back—Briar behind the wheel of one of Marnay's transport vans, teaching me the basics during those rare moments when we had to move between venues.

"If you ever get the chance to run, Red, you need to know how to drive.

Fast. Rules are for people who have the luxury of following them. "

"Are you worried about your friend?" Shiloh asks gently, his hand coming to rest on my knee.

I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat. "Yeah. She's... Briar's the reason I remained a virgin for so long too."

The admission comes out quieter than intended. I can feel their attention sharpen, protective instincts flaring at what I'm about to reveal.

"She protected me all the times alphas tried to.

.." I trail off, not needing to finish. They know what happens in places like the Crimson Roulette.

"She'd take my place even though it meant full nights of abuse and misery.

Told them I was sick, or already booked, or sometimes just physically put herself between me and them. "

My voice cracks slightly. "She never asked for anything in return. Just said that someone had to look out for the new girls, and she'd decided I was worth protecting."

The truck is silent except for Rafe climbing back in, groaning as he settles into his seat. His face has a greenish tinge, but he's listening intently.

"I really wanted to get her out," I continue, staring at the dashboard because looking at any of them might make me cry.

"And she was out at one point. She'd escaped about a year before I got there, made it all the way to California.

But then she came back six months later, and those who come back. .."

"Well, it's usually because outside was worse," I finish quietly.

The guys share meaningful looks that I catch in the mirrors. There's an entire conversation happening in those glances—assessment, planning, decision.

"If she's important to you," Rafe says, his voice still rough from being sick, "we can track and see if she's at least safe with all this government raid shit happening."

My head snaps toward him so fast I might have given myself whiplash. "Really?"

He nods, looking vaguely uncomfortable with the emotion in my voice. "The new omega laws have thrown everything into chaos. Places like the Crimson Roulette are being raided, shut down, owners arrested if they don't have omegas in their own packs. She might need help."

It's been three months since I officially became part of the Lucky Ace pack—three months since that insane auction that still feels like a fever dream.

The government's mandatory omega requirements have turned the entire country upside down.

We don't watch much news, but the gossip around town updates faster than any broadcast. Stories of alphas desperately searching for omegas, of businesses shuttering overnight, of riots in cities where the omega population can't meet the sudden demand.

I've been worried about Briar through it all, wondering if she's safe, if Marnay's using her as leverage, if she's finally free. But all I can do is wonder, and the not knowing eats at me.

"We'll look into it," Corwin assures me from the back. "Shiloh has contacts who can check discreetly."

"Now," Talon interjects, "can we please have someone else drive us back? At a pace that doesn't require us to make peace with our mortality?"

I giggle despite the heavy moment. "Fine, fine. I'll go the speed limit."

"The actual speed limit," Shiloh clarifies. "Not the Red interpretation where you add twenty miles per hour for excitement."

"That was thirty," I correct, grinning when he groans.

I start the truck again, very carefully putting it in drive and beginning the journey back to the ranch at a grandmother-appropriate pace.

Rafe keeps making small whimpering sounds whenever we go over bumps, and I try really hard not to find it endearing that the perfectly controlled alpha is so thoroughly undone by my driving.

The ranch comes into view through the trees, all rustic beauty and hidden security measures. But as we round the final curve, Talon swears under his breath.

"We've got company."

A car sits in our usual parking area—not just any car, but something expensive and ostentatious.

A Bentley, maybe, or some other luxury vehicle that costs more than most people's houses.

It's black with tinted windows, polished to a mirror shine that seems obscene next to our practical trucks and SUVs.

"I don't recognize it," Corwin says, tension threading through his voice.

"Pull up slow," Rafe instructs, his nausea forgotten as he shifts into pack alpha mode. "Park but keep the engine running."

I do as instructed, stopping about thirty feet from the mystery car.

We all watch as the driver's door opens, and my blood turns to ice.

Manager Marnay steps out, adjusting his expensive suit like he's arriving at a board meeting instead of ambushing us at our home.

"Fuck," I breathe, my hands tightening on the wheel.

"Stay in the car," Rafe orders. "Talon, Corwin, stay with Red. Shiloh, with me."

They move with military precision, but before Rafe closes his door, he looks back at me. "Do not get out of this truck. No matter what he says."

I nod, but my heart is hammering against my ribs like a caged bird.

What is Marnay doing here? How did he even find this place?

Rafe and Shiloh approach him with the kind of casual confidence that says they're not threatened, but I can see the tension in their shoulders, the way their hands stay loose and ready at their sides.

"Talon," I whisper, "I need to hear what they're saying."

He's already climbing over the center console into the driver's seat.

"Crawl to the back. Get down behind the seats."

I do as instructed, squeezing between the front seats and crouching in the rear floorboard.

Corwin moves to the passenger side, and Talon drives forward just enough—parking closer but at an angle that would allow for quick escape if needed.

"Smart," Corwin murmurs. "We can hear but Red stays hidden."

Through the cracked window, Marnay's voice carries with that false charm I remember too well.

"What pleasure do we have for you to come all the way here when it's not your class?" Rafe's voice is pure ice, each word sharp enough to cut.

Marnay's laugh is cold, full of the kind of annoyance that comes from having to deal with people he considers beneath him. "Well, I've come with a proposition. Though I'm wondering where Red is?"

"She's in town," Shiloh says coldly. "Having to do her duties as an omega, obviously."

"Cooking and cleaning, I suppose?" Marnay's tone is knowing, mocking.

"She cooks pretty well," Shiloh continues, and I can hear the smirk in his voice. "Though she's better at stirring the pot in the bedroom."

I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing at the absurdity of that statement.