Backstretch Baby (13 page)

A languid pool of heat spread, dipping to her very core, and she pressed against that hard body. His hand had moved up her back, along her ribs, and now that clever thumb stroked the tip of her nipple, taking as much time there as he had with her lips.

She arched with impatience, and he obligingly cupped her breast, his thumb strokes matching the movement of his tongue. She quivered with wanting, and if he hadn’t been holding her up, her legs might have buckled. Nothing mattered anymore, only that big masculine body that was making her senses sing.

But outside tires crunched over gravel, the sound jerking her back to awareness. A man’s voice rumbled. Then a woman called good-bye.

Ashley. Precisely on time for night feed. Of all the evenings to be punctual. And Eve, the professional trainer, was making out in the barn aisle, on legs too buttery to move. She’d never live this down.

However, Rick swung her around, easing her into the shadows of the tack room. She clung to his arms, disoriented after his kiss. Kisses. She didn’t know how long they’d been standing in the aisle, only that it was clear he didn’t rush and she’d been the one in a hurry. And that left her stunned and more than a bit embarrassed.

Probably this was the time to make a joke, to let him know she didn’t usually lose control like that. Or maybe she should just say “wow,” let him know it was special. One of them should say something.

But he just pressed her head against his chest, his hand stroking her hair. She could feel the thudding of his heart, pounding a duet with hers. Could hear their mingled breathing. And no words were necessary.

Ashley strode into the barn, calling out a cheery greeting to the horses. Hay rustled and one of the horses, probably Stinger, slammed the wall with impatience. Soon she’d have to walk to the end of the aisle and grab another bale of hay.

Best to step out now. Eve squared her shoulders, checking her legs. They didn’t feel quite so boneless. Rick had given her a chance to regain her composure, but now it was time to get back to work.

A phone chirped.

“Hi, Victoria.” Ashley’s voice sounded in the aisle, a scant fifteen feet away.

Rick’s arms tightened around Eve in silent warning.

“No. We haven’t raced yet,” Ashley went on. “Entries are tomorrow… Of course the horses have been training… I’m not sure about the jockey.” Her voice turned clipped. “Shouldn’t Jackson speak to Eve about this? Well, if you’re looking after it, you’ll have to talk to Eve directly. Try her cell.”

Eve didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until it escaped in a relieved whoosh. She glanced up at Rick who gave a nod of encouragement.

She stepped out into the aisle.

“Oh, hi,” Ashley said, turning and shoving her phone back into her pocket. “I didn’t know you were here. Victoria just called. Pumping for info. She wants to know the name of Tizzy’s jockey but I didn’t tell her anything—” She stopped, tilting her head in confusion. “Why are you grinning like that?”

Eve just shook her head. She’d always trusted Ashley, ever since the horse-crazy girl had shown up three years ago, determined to become a jockey. But lately she’d been questioning her instincts, and to overhear that phone call was utterly reassuring. Clearly Ashley was staunchly on Eve’s side. Although it was sad that a race barn even had sides.

Rick stepped forward, a bale of hay tucked under his arm, and Ashley’s puzzled expression turned to a knowing smile. “Oh, I see. You’re both here. Were you practicing caps?”

“Yes.” But both Eve and Rick spoke at once, a little too emphatically.

Ashley tilted her head, studying them. The silence stretched.

“Rick has great aim,” Eve added hurriedly. “I’m sure he’ll represent Woody well. How was the guard’s cake?”

“Good. Liam gave me the leftovers so I brought it back to share.” Ashley jabbed her thumb at a foil-wrapped plate by the door. “But that pee catcher job is no longer available. And he said there’s nothing posted at the race office. So I need to do some serious thinking about what I’m going to do about… You know.”

Eve nodded. She couldn’t imagine giving up a baby. Joey was the center of her life. But it hadn’t been easy, and what was good for her might not be the best choice for Ashley. Or her unborn child.

But tonight wasn’t a good time to be discussing anything so important. Her body still sizzled from Rick’s attention, and her brain felt sluggish, alert only to his magnetic presence at the far end of the aisle.

She glanced over her shoulder. He’d already begun topping up water buckets, moving with a lazy grace, rather unusual in such a big man. His arms rippled as he uncoiled the hose. Only minutes ago, those arms had been around her. And it had been wonderful. She couldn’t hide a little shiver.

“Did I come at a bad time?” Ashley whispered.

“Of course not.” She flushed and jerked her head away. “I was just heading back to the dorms. Besides, there’s never a bad time for someone bringing cake.”

But clearly she wasn’t fooling anyone. Because Ashley snickered.

Rick’s eyes jerked open. He remained motionless, absorbing the night sounds: a horse slurping water, another shuffling in the straw. Nothing abnormal. But something had jarred him awake.

He pushed the blanket back and swung his feet onto the cool floor. The cot had originally been at the far end of the barn, but he’d moved it to an empty stall closer to the horses. It was the ideal place for watching the aisle, as well as the feed and tack rooms. He’d see any intruders long before they spotted him.

It was clear someone wanted Eve to fail. And at this point his money was on Jackson’s ambitious wife. It hadn’t taken him more than half a day to dig up Victoria’s background. The woman had started at Riverview Racetrack walking cheap claimers for small-time trainers, but absorbing knowledge like a sponge. She’d climbed the ranks here, then moved to Santa Anita as a hotwalker where her physical attributes had caught Jackson Zeggalaar’s eye.

Woody said she was smart and capable but unfortunately for Eve, she didn’t like to share the limelight. Whether she had enough power to disrupt a stable from a hundred miles away was still the question.

Rick had added surveillance cameras to the barn entrance, as well as over the tack room, but they wouldn’t help much if someone wore a hoodie. And they certainly wouldn’t stop an intruder determined to hurt the horses. If Victoria was the source of mischief, the horses were probably safe since it was doubtful she’d deliberately harm her husband’s business. On the other hand, emotional people were unpredictable and could be dangerous.

He tugged on his boots and edged to the front of the stall. From across the aisle, Stinger stared, his ears pricked. Rick remained still, studying the horse.

Stinger nosed his empty hay net, then swung his head away and peered down the aisle. Looking for more food or had he heard something too?

Rick wasn’t sure yet what made the big horse tick, or if his reaction was significant. When he’d been working with Stinger, the horse hadn’t seemed at all sensitive to his environment. The ill-tempered gelding appeared to have only one thought in his head, and that was to pound around the track.

However, Bristol, the bay mare with the star on her forehead, had a much different personality. She acted liked the matriarch, and when he led the other horses down the aisle, they all tried to keep a respectful distance.

She was definitely on watch now. Her head was stuck over the stall door, her nostrils flaring. She didn’t look at him. Her attention was locked on the dark shadows beyond the end door.

But there wasn’t anything outside worth stealing. Eve’s car was locked, and he’d pushed his bike into an empty stall. Whoever was out there would have to come inside. When he did, Rick would nab him, and they’d finally learn the identity of her tormenter.

His breath quickened, pumped by a hunter’s adrenaline and the prospect of an aggressive chase. But along with that came a spike of regret.

He liked it here. Enjoyed the simple way of life, of working with the horses and with the caring people who obsessed over those horses. He was curious how Stinger’s raw power would convert to a race and if Tizzy would run better after Miguel’s massage. It was refreshing not living with brutal criminals and not being hit on by desperate women craving their next fix. He really liked not finding dead bodies.

And he liked Eve.

Tomorrow he’d take her on his bike. Injuries had stopped her from race riding, but the motorcycle might fill her need for speed. She was the type who appreciated an adrenaline rush. Maybe some day, she’d even want her own bike. But soon that sweet body would be pressed against him. She’d be holding tight and he’d be in the driver’s seat. And they’d be away from the barn and its untimely interruptions.

He blinked, realizing he was staring into the liquid eyes of the bay mare. She no longer watched the door. She was staring at him. And her expression was complacent, as if they were alone again.

Dammit
. He charged from the stall and ran outside.

A fat white moon hung in the sky, illuminating the gravel road and darker horse path. Both were empty. He crept across the grass, careful to avoid the noisy gravel, then paused to listen.

Nothing moved along the chain link fence. But beyond the picnic tables, the fence was hidden by trees. Earlier he’d found a gap beneath the mesh, but the hole was at least two hundred yards away, and the woods were thick and overgrown. It was too silent for someone to have approached the barn from that route.

Unless, like him, they were standing still. Also waiting.

He shot forward, this time making no effort to hide his noise. Few people could remain still when faced with an aggressive charge. And once the intruder bolted, Rick was confident he could run him down.

He was halfway through the wooded path when he realized he was alone.

He stopped, snorting in disgust, then turned and jogged back to the barn. The visitor must have come from the other direction and either walked along the horse path or the paved road. Which meant he wasn’t an outsider, but lived on the backstretch.

But what was the point of this night visit? Nobody had entered the barn, and there was nothing to tamper with outside.

He stiffened then hurried into the fenced sandpit, using the light from his phone to spotlight the sand. Eve said the gray gelding had cut his back rolling on a razor-sharp toy. Maybe it hadn’t been an accident. He kicked at the sand, searching for any sharp objects. Found nothing.

Perhaps he’d been imagining the visitor. But he shook his head, dismissing that possibility. He trusted his instincts, and he definitely respected those of the boss mare.

However, he was alone now, and the tension slipped from his shoulders. Probably best to grab some more sleep. This wasn’t a life or death situation. The horses were safe, turnout was safe, the feed and equipment were safe.

Nobody would be planting a bomb or lining Eve up with a sniper rifle. Victoria might have aspirations to be top dog, but she certainly wasn’t a killer.

Still… His gaze drifted to Eve’s car, parked beyond the barn. It was easy to sabotage a car and cause an accident, minor or major. He’d done it several times. But only to scumballs, never to someone like Eve.

His fists tightened and he strode toward her car. Before she drove it again, he’d run a thorough check. He wanted to fix her air conditioning anyway. And he’d have her park in front of the barn, or possibly by the guardhouse.

He stopped making his list, stopped worrying about where she should park at night. Because when he rounded the Civic’s dented fender, he saw the reason for the sneaky night visit.

A sheet of paper fluttered on the windshield, pinned in place by the left wiper.

He lifted the wiper blade and pulled out the paper. The printing was so big and dark and angry that the letters were visible in the moonlight.

We don’t want city snobs here. Leave now. Or die, bitch.

Not a bomb or sabotage. Just a note. And he couldn’t stop grinning. It was so juvenile, so personal, and a refreshing change from the outlaw gangs that would kill a small boy without a second thought.

He stuck the note in his pocket and ambled back to his bed in the barn. Clearly, Eve had stepped on someone’s toes. And though this type of work was far beneath his pay grade, at least here he could make a difference. He might even help out someone who deserved a boost. Someone he liked.

Best of all, there wouldn’t be any guns or blood or bodies. His steps lightened and for the first time in years, he felt truly optimistic.

Eve bounced from the race office, filled with euphoria. She’d done it. She’d entered her first horse. She’d managed Tizzy’s training and picked the day, the race, the jockey. All without any help from Jackson.

She’d always thought her career would start and end as a jockey. She loved the rush of racing, of partnering with her mount in order to reach the wire first. But this sense of satisfaction was every bit as heady.

Now her job centered on getting Tizzy to the starting gate on Saturday, healthy, happy and ready to run. And it was just as challenging, except that she’d leg another jockey into the saddle and watch the race from the rail.

Rick pushed himself away from the wall and raised his sunglasses, further tousling his hair. He’d insisted on accompanying her to the office after morning gallops despite her assurance that it wasn’t necessary. But he seemed to be taking the car note seriously. Which was okay with her.

Generally she was irritated by men hanging around too close. But she doubted few women would be bored with Rick. He was smart and fun and made her see things beyond the track. And it had nothing to do with last night, the way his kiss had rocked her world. Not a thing.
Right.

Her cheeks felt hot, and she jerked her gaze away from his mouth, aware that he was studying her lips too. Clearly they were both remembering.