Page 13 of August’s Cowboy Braxton

I stayed downstairs with her crown case, her sashes, and the boxes of ribbons and pins she carried to every event.

The crown case was navy blue, monogrammed, and lined with expensive looking cream fabric. I ran my hand along the seams, hoping my suspicions were wrong.

I found it on the third pass. A small tracking device, smaller than a quarter, had been tucked into the lining near the handle. I could tell with one look that it was professional grade. The kind that transmitted location data in real time. I pulled it loose and set it on the kitchen table.

That explained how someone knew where Addison would be. How they'd managed to show up at events across three counties. How they'd known she was at the rodeo grounds yesterday even though her schedule hadn't been posted to the public.

Whoever it was hadn't been guessing. They'd been tracking her.

The problem was that dozens of people had access to that case. Volunteers. Event coordinators. Sponsors. Other rodeo royalty who borrowed her backup equipment.

Even Evie.

I stared at the device and tried to think through the logic. Whoever planted it had been close enough to handle Addison's things without raising suspicion. That narrowed the list, but not enough.

Kyle, the photographer, had been at multiple events. He'd had opportunity. Evie had keys to Addison's trailer. She'd had access to everything. But so had half the rodeo circuit. I needed more.

Upstairs, a floorboard creaked. Addison was moving around, probably getting ready for bed.

I pocketed the tracker and checked the locks again. Whoever was toying with her had been close for months. And Addison had smiled through all of it, never knowing someone was watching every move she made.

I wasn't letting them get that close again.

The next morning, Addison came downstairs and found me at the kitchen table with the tracker sitting in front of me.

She stopped in the doorway, her expression shifting from confused to horrified in less than a second.

"What’s that?"

"A GPS tracker. I found it in your crown case last night."

Her face went pale. "How long⁠—"

"Hard to say. Months, probably. Since June at least."

She sat down across from me, staring at the device like it might bite her. "Someone's been following me for months."

"Yeah."

"And I never knew."

"You weren't supposed to."

Her hands shook. She pressed them flat against the table. "Who?"

"That's what we're going to find out."

She looked up at me, and for the first time since I'd met her, the polished mask cracked completely. "I don't know who to trust anymore."

"You can trust me."

"Can I?"

I swallowed past the pressure in my throat. "Yeah, Addison. You can."

She held my gaze, searching for something I wasn't sure I knew how to give.

Then she nodded, just once, and her mask slid back into place. This time, I saw the fear underneath, and I understood exactly what I was protecting her from.