Backstretch Baby (28 page)

“Thank you, Miguel,” she said as they approached the barn. “I’m going to suggest to Jackson that you be the sole handler of Tizzy when we return to Santa Anita.”

Miguel’s face creased in a smile. “I was afraid for my job before,” he admitted. “But this big horse, my friend—” He gave Tizzy a look full of gratitude. “He saved me.”

“He saved us all,” Eve said.

She scanned the barn, rather disappointed not to see Rick and Ashley in the doorway. Horses needed to be fed and legs checked. Once Tizzy was settled, they’d have to discuss how best to celebrate. Maybe go out to eat? They were all hungry, but tired too. And she still needed to call her boss.

Food was important though. She’d been too nervous to eat anything before the race, and she was sure Miguel hadn’t been able to stomach anything either. But now her mouth was salivating. It took another few seconds for her brain to process the delicious smell wafting through the air. And then she spotted Ashley and Rick bending over the picnic table. Food sizzled on an enormous silver barbecue, and the table was covered with a bright cloth and plates and bowls.

Miguel’s stomach rumbled, and they both laughed.

Ashley bounced over. “Everything’s ready,” she said, taking Tizzy’s lead line. “Why don’t I turn Tizzy out in the sandpit for a roll. And you two can finally sit down.”

“But where did the grill come from?” Eve asked. “And the food?”

Ashley gestured over her shoulder. “I don’t know how Rick did it,” she said, her voice filled with glee. “But please keep that man around. There is so much food here. And even the guards don’t have their own gas barbecue.”

Eve gathered the dirty dishes, piling them at the end of the picnic table. Miguel and Ashley were bathing Tizzy, so she’d offered to clean up.

Rick definitely deserved a break. He’d grilled fresh vegetables along with juicy T-bone steaks and wild salmon, although she suspected the fish had been intended for the cat. He’d thought of everything, even arranging for some sparkling apple cider so Miguel could join them in toasting Tizzy’s win.

She looked at Rick, her smile simmering with gratitude. “This was the best meal I’ve had in a long time. Where did you rent the barbecue?”

“Bought it,” he said, placing a morsel of steak in front of the cat, who clearly preferred meat to fish. “Thought it would be handy to have a grill, for when Joey’s here.”

Her hand stalled over a plate. The barbecue was more than just a grill, but a deluxe model with two side panels, a rotisserie and a warming element. Not only would it be hugely useful but it gave the play area a cozy feel, making it seem more like home.

Of course, Rick’s other additions enhanced the area too. Somehow he’d found time to gather soccer balls and a net, as well as hang a tire from the big oak tree. And some of his track friends had delivered a third picnic table.

She hadn’t asked many questions. Over supper, they’d all been ecstatic about Tizzy’s win, reliving every stride. She’d assumed the women had left the balls. Now it was evident Rick had arranged everything, no doubt because of Scott’s prodding about having toys for Joey.

She clinked the last plate on top of the stack, then balled the napkins. Rick obviously had more money than she’d imagined, oodles more, but she couldn’t let him keep buying everything. And all this would be hard to repay.

She had the horrible feeling Scott and Megan didn’t trust her to look after Joey, or even to feed him properly. And sure, maybe she skipped breakfast and ate at weird times, but she was conscious of good nutrition. Heck, she was an athlete. Now that her car was working again, she’d make sure they had plenty of groceries. They could even eat in the track kitchen if necessary. She didn’t need a stainless steel barbecue with an attached cooler and triple propane tanks.

Rick stilled her hands, stopping her from shredding the napkins. “It’s just a grill,” he said.

“And I really appreciate it,” she said, looking into his concerned eyes. “I do love the swing. And the soccer balls are great. But tell me…did Scott’s office have anything to do with this? With the barbecue?”

“Yes.” Rick pried the napkin from her fingers. “I asked for Belinda’s help. To make sure it was assembled and delivered on time. And to organize the groceries.”

“But whose idea was it?”

He averted his gaze, suddenly occupied with re-stacking the plates.

Her insides twisted. “How many times did you talk to Scott today?”

“Three, four times,” Rick muttered. “The police haven’t located Marcus yet, and Scott needs updates.”

“And that’s all you talked about? Did he say anything about Joey?”

Rick paused, clearly searching for words. “A few questions,” he said.

“Like what?”

“Like who’d be looking after Joey when you were busy with the horses. Who’d be his playmates. What kind of toys were here. Where he’d sleep. He just wanted information like that. You know, normal stuff.”

“It’s not normal.” She shot to her feet, so quickly her knee banged the table. “I’m Joey’s mother. And I expected more of you. I trusted you—”

Her throat clogged and she backed away, not even feeling the numbness in her knee, too hurt by his lack of loyalty to want anything but escape.

She’d forgotten how fast he could move. Somehow he’d glided between her and the barn, not touching but definitely blocking her path.

“Hey,” he said, his voice somber. “Scott asked those questions. Doesn’t mean I answered them… I didn’t.”

The lump in her throat shifted. She pulled in another breath, absorbing his words. He hadn’t said anything. That was good. And it must have been hard to refuse Scott.

She stared into Rick’s shirt, so close her nose almost brushed the soft cotton. Then she leaned forward, letting her forehead rest against his chest. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I know I’m too sensitive. But Joey’s my son. Not theirs.”

His arm lifted but he didn’t speak, only clasped her shoulder with a comforting hand. Birds trilled from the trees and a squirrel scolded. He didn’t ask any questions, didn’t chide her for throwing accusations. He just stood there. And he deserved an explanation.

“Megan and I went through hell together,” she said, her voice rusty. “Her brother and I met at jockey school. Joey was my first real love. My son’s named after him.” She swallowed. “But a cartel was using school horses to move drugs and money, and he disappeared. Nobody would help. The police dismissed him as a heroin dealer who’d run off to Mexico. If not for Scott, we never would have recovered his body. Or known the truth. Joey never even met his dad.”

She cleared her throat. “Megan and Scott are family and I’m very grateful, but their interest in Joey is scary. Especially since they can’t have children of their own… And obviously they’d make better parents than me.”

The squirrel still scolded, a horse thumped the wall from the barn, and something deeper rumbled in Rick’s chest. She glanced up, alarmed. Was surprised to see him laughing.

Her eyes narrowed. “You find this funny?”

“Just the part that anyone could be a better parent than you. You’re like a lioness, loving, loyal, brave. Maybe a little prickly sometime. But that’s good in a parent. I like that. Gotta keep those kids safe.”

His grin faded and he lowered his arm. “If you can clean up here,” he said, looking over her head at the barn, “I’m going to hang some rubber in Stinger’s stall. So he won’t hurt himself when he kicks.”

It was obvious that children’s safety had hit a nerve and she wished he’d talk more, but clearly the subject was off limits. And cushioning Stinger’s walls with rubber was an excellent precaution, except that investing in a barn where they’d only be stabled a short time was rather extravagant.

“That’s a good idea,” she said. “But I know Jackson won’t want to pay for the rubber.”

“No charge. Barn six had some extra sheets, and one of the grooms who worked with Marcus pushed it my way.”

She nodded, no longer surprised by Rick’s ability to make friends. He’d visited shedrows when she was galloping horses this morning, and had the rare gift of making everyone feel at ease. But the fact that he could do his investigative work, while so ably filling in as a groom and a handyman, was utterly remarkable. And rather intimidating.

He’d only laughed when she teased him about his supernatural endurance. But right now, when her back ached and she just wanted to tumble into bed—instead of hanging rubber—it was almost irritating.

She squared her shoulders, hiding her exhaustion, trying to muster some enthusiasm. “Great,” she said. “I’ll grab the drill from the tack room, and we can hang it now.”

“Think I can handle it.” He slid a gentle hand around the back of her neck. “You’ve been working with horses all day.”

So have you, she thought. But she shifted, sighing as his capable fingers kneaded the back of her neck, hitting spots she hadn’t even known were tight. She tilted her head, giving him better access.

“Maybe we can pick up the rubber tomorrow,” she said, her eyes already half closed.

“It’s already delivered. Liam arranged for a truck.”

“Are they close to catching Marcus?”

“Doesn’t seem like it. Someone must be hiding him.”

“Not even Victoria would help a murderer,” she said, her voice sleepy, lulled by the expert rhythm of his hand. “I don’t think she’s involved in this.”

“You think that?” His fingers stopped moving. “In your gut?”

She gave a protesting nudge with her head. “I can think better if you keep rubbing.”

He chuckled and resumed massaging. “Camila’s murder seems unrelated to everything else going on. But the police think Marcus is good for it. So does Liam. They’re not looking at anyone else.”

“Police thought Joey was a criminal too,” she said.

“Yes. And Scott’s a careful man. So he’s sending an investigator to Santa Anita. To take a closer look at Victoria.”

Eve groaned, but this time not with pleasure. “If Jackson finds out Scott’s agency is investigating his wife, he’ll be furious.” She shook her head, hating to even consider the consequences.

“He won’t. Scott has good people.”

“Braggart,” she said. But she knew the Taylor Investigative Agency had earned immense respect. It was rumored even the LAPD relied on their services.

“Victoria won’t give the time of day to a hotwalker or groom,” she added. “They’d have to be a trainer or owner to even start a conversation. And the investigator better not be female. Victoria doesn’t like women.”

“She sounds charming,” Rick said dryly. “Scott might send someone posing as a divorce lawyer. But I guarantee your boss will never know.” He paused, then slid his finger beneath her chin and tilted her head. “Tell me. Do I scare children? Even away from my bike?”

She laughed. “Just because you resemble a cage fighter with hair and scary ink and ass-kicking boots, heck, no—” Her smile faded at his crestfallen expression. She’d thought he was joking but realized now he was serious. “You might scare kids a little,” she said. “But that’s only until they get to know you.”

He dropped his hand. “I need your ladies to fix me up. So I don’t scare Joey.”

It was probably exhaustion that made her legs turn buttery. But this macho man with the tender heart was concerned about scaring her son. And that was definitely progress. She’d been worried about his reaction to children, couldn’t forget how he’d backed away when he first learned about Joey. But now things were working out beautifully, and happiness left her insides soft and glowing.

She rose on her toes and looped her arms around his neck. “Do what you want. But don’t you need that look? For your job?”

He shrugged. “If I go to Santa Anita and help check out Victoria, I need to look like a lawyer.”

“But you said Scott already sent someone?”

“That’s right.” His gaze drifted over her head toward the barn. “But it might need two of us…just for a week, not sure.”

“But when would you go? Not until Monday, right? Because I need your help with Stinger.”

“Right.” His tanned throat rippled. “Okay then. I won’t go.”

She rocked back, weak with relief. Stinger behaved so much better for Rick. But it wasn’t just that. Her stomach flipped in dread at the thought of him leaving, even if it were just for a week. It was an odd feeling, comforting but at the same time disturbing. And along with it came the nagging suspicion that he might be trying to avoid Joey.

“Does Scott want you to go to Santa Anita?” she asked. “Or was that your idea?” She kept her hands on his shoulders, knowing he was skilled at concealing facial expressions, but she might be able to detect something in his body.

“Can’t remember,” he said. “Besides, it doesn’t matter now. If you need me with Stinger, I’m staying.” His face gave away nothing, but she caught a telltale tightening across his shoulders.

She swallowed her dismay. “You should know that I want Joey to stay for more than a week. Mom needs a break, and besides, I really want him with me, all the time—”

Shrill voices rose behind her and she twisted.

Juanita stood by the barn, waving her arms at Ashley. Both women looked at Eve and gestured.

“Guess we better talk about this later,” she said.

His face remained absolutely expressionless. “Guess we better.”

Juanita paced a circle around Eve and Ashley, waving her arms and spicing the air with the smell of onions and kitchen grease. A stained white apron was still wrapped around her waist and her dark hair was tucked beneath a hairnet.

“It’s so strange,” she repeated, shaking her head in a mixture of confusion and delight. “It’s a godsend for Camila’s fund, but why did she have so much money in her room?”

Ashley’s eyes narrowed. “Liam says there’s a big underground economy here. Probably the money is illegal.”

Juanita tugged off her hairnet and jammed it into her apron pocket. “Maybe I was mistaken about the amount,” she murmured, glancing over her shoulder as if checking for a security Jeep.

“Let’s go inside and have a coffee,” Eve said, taking Juanita’s arm. While Ashley’s friendship with Liam was helpful, the Hispanic community still viewed the guards with suspicion. No doubt Juanita feared, quite rightly, that the funds would be seized and tied up in the investigation.