Ain't No Angel (2 page)

“I’m only doing this to get back on my feet,” she answered, her voice barely audible. What had compelled her to tell this man anything?

“Your life hasn’t been easy.” He nodded. “You’ve been moved from one foster home to the next since you were eight years old. Your father has been in and out of jail since you were five, and your mother turned to drugs. The state finally took you into custody. Tell me, when have you last had contact with your birth mother?”

He looked at her with deep concern and interest written in that blue stare of his. Laney’s eyes widened. How could he possibly know all this about her? She hadn’t divulged anything about her past since coming to L.A. The last person she wanted to talk about was the woman who had abandoned her.

“Are you a social worker?”

She was no longer a ward of the state. She was twenty-one years old, and had been on her own since the day she turned eighteen. Sooner, in fact. After being bounced around from one foster home to the next, never staying long enough to make any sort of connection with her foster parents or anyone in school, she’d learned that she only had herself to rely on. 

“No, I’m not a social worker, at least not in the sense that you might think,” the old man said, and shook his head. His smile was back. “I simply want to help you find your true path in life.”

“And how are you going to do that?” Laney snapped. The state had failed her a long time ago. “What can you possibly do to change my life for the better?” Her eyes blazed, shooting him a challenging look.

“You like horses.” It was a statement, not a question. “You’re very good with horses, in fact.”

Laney blinked. How did this man know so much about her? She glanced toward the car door. The urge to bolt, even from a moving car, overwhelmed her. She balled her hands in her lap, clenching them tight until the knuckles turned white.

“Why are you here, in a city such as Los Angeles, when you should be putting your skills to use elsewhere?”

Laney stared at the man across from her, watching her expectantly. His image blurred. She sniffed, and wiped at her eyes. Anthony Sheldon’s leering face popped into her mind. She shuddered.

“I ran away from my last foster home, and kept running until I was eighteen,” she whispered. “Until I was no longer in the foster system.”

The old man’s hand reached out to her, and covered her fists in her lap. “I’m sorry for your bad experience. Your last foster parent treated you badly, didn’t he?”

Laney’s head snapped up. “How do you know so much about me?”

She didn’t want to relive her experience with the Sheldons, especially Anthony. He might have been a great rehabilitator of injured racehorses, but he was a sick bastard when it came to her. For three years she’d lived with the Sheldons, the longest she’d ever been with a foster family. She loved living on the large farm out in the country, loved working with the horses. It was only when Anthony started coming on to her, after he . . . she’d run away and never looked back.

The old man shook his head, smiling. “It’s not important. What is important is that I want to help you now. You learned a lot about horses from him.”

“Yes,” she nodded.
Among the other things he taught me
.

 “You think you can make a new start by being an escort?” He raised his eyebrows at her.

Laney avoided his eyes. “That’s the plan,” she whispered.

“You’re good with horses, and would like a chance to prove your ability to rehabilitate injuries.”

Laney’s spine stiffened. Rather than ask how he knew this, she said, “Yes, but without a formal education, no one will hire me. A piece of paper that would cost me more money than I can scrape together in ten years is the ticket to working with million dollar equines.” Laney stared him squarely in the eyes. “Someday I’m going to get that credential. For now . . . I’m doing this.” She swiped her hand in front of her, indicating her clothing. Why the hell was she compelled to tell him so much? What was it about this man that made her want to divulge all her secrets?

He studied her in silence for a moment. “How would you like to put your skills to good use?”

Laney leaned forward. “Are you offering me a job working with horses?” This seemed too good to be true. It was definitely not how she had expected this night to turn out. Was he some rich horse owner who needed an equine massage therapist?

“I’m offering you a chance to turn your life around,” he said. “But it also requires certain . . . sacrifices.” His blue eyes stared straight at her.

A quick jolt of adrenaline shot through her. What did he mean by that? Laney scoffed. Wasn’t she already sacrificing herself?

“What do I need to do?” The question was out before she had a chance to even think clearly.

 “How would you like a chance at a new life, Miss Goodman? A life that you’ve been looking for?” He reached for two tumblers from the limo’s bar, and poured clear liquid from a glass container.

 “If you’re offering me a job to work with horses, I’m listening,” Laney answered, almost too eagerly.

“Miss Goodman, are you willing to do both?”

“Do both what?” Laney’s forehead wrinkled.

“Be an escort of sorts in order to get your chance at helping injured horses. I have a specific animal that is in need of your skills. If you are successful at getting him back in prime condition, I promise you that everything you’ve wished for will come true.”

Laney tried not to laugh out loud. The guy made it sound like he was her fairy godmother. Her life certainly wasn’t a fairytale.

“The horse needs some special attention, but so does its owner,” the old man continued.

“What’s the guy’s name?” Perhaps she’d heard of him if he was some big shot horse breeder.

“Tyler Monroe. If you are in agreement, you’ll meet him tomorrow. He lives in Montana.” He handed her a crystal tumbler, and raised his own glass.

Montana?
That was a far cry from L.A. Her heart rate increased inexplicably. This was all sounding way too good to be true.

Or maybe you’re setting yourself up to be the headline on tomorrow’s ten o’clock news.

Laney lifted the glass to her lips. Too bad it was only water. What did she have to lose? This Tyler guy couldn’t be any worse than Anthony. And it sounded as if she would have a place to stay while she worked with the horse. Hell. She’d get out of L.A. Obviously, she’d just been solicited to be a live-in hooker for the duration. But if it would help her land a massage job later, it wasn’t any different than what she had agreed to do for Jason.

“And what about Jason? If you’re asking me to come work for you, or this Mr. Monroe, Jason won’t be too happy if I go back on our agreement.”

“Don’t worry, Miss Goodman. I’ll make sure your young man is well compensated for his loss.”

“All right. You have a deal.” Laney drained her glass, wishing for something alcoholic to calm her frayed nerves.

“Very good.” The old man beamed, and nodded.

The limo came to a stop.

“I believe we’ve arrived at the motel where you’ve been staying. Get a good night’s rest. You have a long trip ahead of you tomorrow.”

The limousine’s door opened, and the man in the gray suit motioned for her to exit. Laney hesitated. She turned a perplexed eye on him. “How will I get to Montana?”

He smiled slowly. “We’ll see each other again tomorrow. Now go.”

Laney ducked out the door of the limousine. She turned, but the door had already closed, and the vehicle rolled away from the curb. She stared until the limo rounded a corner and disappeared from view.

Laney walked as fast as she could across the parking lot in her high heels. She’d be lucky not to sprain her ankle on the uneven pavement and countless potholes. Dread filled her.  What would Jason do to her in the morning when he came to collect the money the old man was supposed to pay her? He hadn’t given her a dime, only filled her head with dreams.

She reached the door to her motel room, and fumbled for the key in her purse. After turning the lock, she rushed into her room and collapsed on the bed. What if the old man had been full of lies? Laney sat up and stared into the darkness. What if he hadn’t?

Chapter 2

Tyler Monroe pulled the leather glove off his hand, and swiped the sweat from his forehead. Uncorking his canteen, he held the opening to his lips and tilted his head back. After several long swallows, he splashed some water on his face, and ran his fingers through his hair. A dip in the creek might be a better way to cool off, but for now, the lukewarm canteen water had to be enough. He hung the container back on the fence post, and grabbed for the shovel he’d dropped to the ground. He glanced to his right. Two more posts to set, and he could nail up the boards. The new barn that would house some of the horses for the winter had been finished a week ago. If he hurried, this corral would be completed by tomorrow.  He pushed the spade into the mound of dirt, and filled the hole around the wooden post he’d just set.

A horse whinnied from somewhere behind him, and hooves pounded the ground in a frantic four-beat cadence. Tyler straightened. He raised his head skyward and squinted up at the sun burning overhead.

Damn.
The morning had passed much too quickly.

He gritted his teeth and shoved the blade forcefully into the dry dirt. He didn’t bother to turn around to see who approached in such a hurry. No doubt the bearer of news he didn’t want to hear. He dumped more dirt into the posthole, sending up a plume of dust.

The horse came to a sliding stop, nearly colliding with one of the freshly set posts, sending up more dust in the process. Breathing heavily, the animal’s nostrils flared as it pranced nervously. Tyler stepped back, and glared up at the rider. Eddie Simonson, one of his wranglers, knew better than to run a horse in the heat! The large man groped at his hat while yanking back on his mount’s reins. The gelding shook its head in protest.

“Hey boss, I just come from the south pasture. There’s something wrong with Rap,” Eddie shouted urgently.

Tyler’s frown deepened. “What’s the matter with him?” He’d already had enough problems with his herd stallion several months ago.

Eddie scratched the back of his neck. He shot a sheepish look from under the wide brim of his hat.

“Well, ah, he ain’t interested in the mares,” he said slowly. “There’s two that come in heat, and he don’t got no interest in breedin’ at all.” Eddie leaned forward over his saddle, and spit some tobacco juice on the ground.

Tyler’s brows scrunched together. He stared at his wrangler. A slow grin spread across his face, despite his bad mood. Rhapsody’s Prince had always eagerly covered mares before. The success of his ranch depended on producing a good number of foals each spring, and his herd stallion was the key to getting that accomplished. Eddie was known for his pranks, but today wasn’t the day for Tyler to play along.

“Got any news I can believe, Eddie?”

“I ain’t kidding, boss. I saw it myself.” Eddie ran his hand over his stubbly jaw. “ He don’t want to breed the mares. You need to go take a look at him.”

Tyler searched the man’s face. His smile vanished. Eddie didn’t have that gleam in his eyes that gave it away when he was joking. Great. If Eddie was telling the truth, this was not what he needed to hear today.

“If you’re pulling my leg, Eddie . . .” Tyler tossed his shovel to the ground, and shot a stern glare at the beefy man. He left his warning hanging in the air. He didn’t need bad news. Not today, of all days. What he needed was to finish this fence. He also needed to go into town and . . .

“Well, it ain’t the only reason I come out here,” Eddie said quickly. “I saw Gabe McFarlain on the way over. He said to tell you the stage is on time for three o’clock.”

Tyler clenched his jaw. He was well aware that the stage would arrive in about three hours. Eddie grinned, exposing a row of uneven teeth.

“Ain’t you been looking forward to today, on account that your new . . .” Eddie’s voice trailed off. He must have read the warning message in Tyler’s eyes. He had never looked
less
forward to a day in his life.

“We’re all gonna be there for ya, Ty. All the boys are eager for the stagecoach to get here. We all got bets goin’ to see—”

“I’m going to the south pasture and take a look at Rap. You can finish putting in these posts.” Tyler straightened and shot the wrangler a stare that dared him to say anything else. The last thing he wanted to hear was that his friends and ranch hands were making more bets at his expense. They all thought they’d done him a favor.

He held up his shovel. Eddie grunted, then pulled his leg over the saddle and dismounted.

“Better water your horse first.” Tyler thrust the shovel at Eddie, and headed for one of the nearby corrals to fetch his own mount.

“Yes, boss,” Eddie mumbled behind him.

Tyler quickly saddled his gelding. With this interruption, he’d have to hurry if he planned to be in town to meet the stage. Checking on his stallion was more important at the moment. His other business would simply have to wait. Without another glance at Eddie, he stepped into the stirrup and swung his leg over the horse’s back. With a nudge of his heels, the gelding broke into a lope.

Half an hour later, he reined his horse to a stop atop a low rise overlooking a vast green valley. He leaned forward in his saddle. The creaking of leather beneath him mixed with the satisfied snorts and whinnies of horses.

Tyler rested his forearm on the saddle horn, and pushed his hat up higher on his head. Spread out below him, a herd of mares grazed contently. Several foals slept in the grass, while a few of the braver ones left their mothers’ sides to buck and kick up their heels at each other.

The slight breeze in the air cooled the skin on his face, and made the heat of the day a little more bearable. He glanced up at the cloudless sky and inhaled a deep breath. The scent of pine and summer grass infused the air, mixed with the familiar smell of horses. This would have been a perfect day, except for . . .

Tyler sat up straighter in the saddle and surveyed his herd. He counted thirty-seven foals. Three more mares were due to drop a foal this summer. The rest had been barren this season. It was a good crop of foals this year. His breeding operation thrived, and buyers came from all over the territory for his animals.

His gaze traveled from one horse to the next, and rested on the dark bay stallion, which grazed about fifty yards from the rest of the herd. The horse’s ears twitched back and forth, and even though he appeared relaxed, his focus was on his mares. A slow smile formed on Tyler’s face. No doubt his prized stud horse knew he was there, watching, but had deemed him harmless.

All the tension from this morning flowed out of him. Watching his horses always soothed his nerves, and dissolved his worries. His father had instilled in him a lifelong love and respect for the animals. Starting with nothing but a handful of mares, his father had built the ranch from the ground up, single handedly, always dreaming of breeding better stock. There were two things Jonas Monroe loved above all else - horses and Tyler’s mother.

“A horse is like a woman, son. Treat them with a firm but gentle hand, respect them for who they are and see to their needs, and they pay you back with undying devotion.” His father’s words echoed in his mind. That had been Jonas’ favorite saying, up until Tyler was twelve years old.

One fateful day changed all that; the day his mother left the ranch and didn’t return.  Jonas never uttered those words again. Instead, he would say, “Earn a horse’s respect and they will never betray your trust. Horses are all that matter, son. Don’t ever let anyone or anything, least of all a woman, come between you and the horses.”

For years, his father had hoped and waited for his wife to return. Slowly, he’d become an embittered man, and no matter how much Tyler coaxed him to rejuvenate his interest in the horses, his father slipped more and more inside himself. He’d changed from being a respected member of the community, a man of integrity and values, into someone to stay away from. Friends and neighbors avoided him because of his cantankerous behavior, and the running of the ranch soon fell solely on Tyler’s shoulders. Three years ago, he’d found his father dead in the barn, hung from the ceiling rafters. His father’s misery was all because of her . . .  

Tyler vowed he would never let that happen to him. He loved the ranch, he loved the horses, and no woman would ever destroy him the way it had destroyed his father. Elizabeth Monroe had not only abandoned her husband, she had abandoned her son as well.

Two of the mares squealed, and pinned their ears at each other, snapping Tyler from thoughts of the past. The stallion’s head shot up, his ears pricked in the direction of the commotion. Both mares clearly exhibited signs of heat.

Do your job, big boy, and we’ll have another good crop of foals next year.

The stallion’s tail raised, and he tossed his head, then whinnied loudly. He trotted in the direction of the mares, then stopped. He sniffed and touched noses with them, and while they appeared eager for a mating, he wandered off, his interest apparently more on the lush July grass. He lowered his head to graze, completely ignoring the mares he left behind.

Tyler frowned. What the hell was that all about? The stallion had never refused to breed a mare before. He nudged his horse forward. The gelding trotted down the slope toward the herd, and several of the mares’ heads popped up out of the tall grass to watch him come near.

Tyler dismounted and approached the stallion on foot. The bay raised his head and nickered in greeting before his attention returned to the grass. Tyler ran his hands along the animal’s muscled neck, back, and down his hindquarters, checking for any obvious injuries. He inspected the legs and hooves. Nothing to indicate an injury.

Tyler frowned. Just like that time almost two months ago, when the horse had lost his first race. He’d been undefeated in three years. The stallion had been in top form and was clearly the best horse out of all the entrants that day. Everyone agreed he must have stepped on a stone, or he wouldn’t have come in second. The small community of Landry had been stunned. A lot of money had been wagered that day. Tyler had held his head high, and made no excuses. The horse had lost, simple as that.

His jaw muscles tightened. He cursed under his breath, and glanced up at the sky. Another hour closer to three o’clock. He had to go into town and meet that stage, and be the bearer of bad news to a certain passenger.

Today marked seven weeks since the day of that horse race. He’d give anything to turn back time. Maybe if he had agreed to a friendly wager, he wouldn’t be in the predicament he found himself in now.

Money changed hands and the whiskey flowed freely at the territory horse races that were held every spring and again in the fall. They were meant to be friendly competitions between friends and neighbors, and the competitive spirit usually took hold in most members of the community, whether they owned a horse in the race or not.

He patted the stallion along the withers a final time. “This isn’t your day, is it, Rap?”

The horse raised his head and blew warm air in Tyler’s face. He shook his head to dispel the flies that buzzed around his eyes, the long mane spilling down his neck.

“It ain’t my day, either.”

Tyler turned, and mounted the gelding. He’d have to figure out what to do about the horse later. Right now, he had to get to town and meet the stagecoach.

****

A violent upward lurch nearly lifted Laney from her seat, and her top teeth sunk into her tongue.

“Ouch. Dammit.”  Her head connected with something hard, and her eyes flew open.

The bouncing and swaying continued, and Laney blinked. She raised herself to a full sitting position after her head again hit what she assumed was her bed’s headboard.

“What the hell?” she grumbled. Her hands groped for some kind of hold to catch her balance when another jolt rocked the . . . where was she? She struggled to sit fully upright.

Someone gasped loudly to her left. Laney turned her throbbing head and found herself staring at a woman with her mouth wide open, and shock written in her eyes. She pulled a small boy closer to her side and covered his ears.