Racetrack Romance BOX SET (Books 1-3) (66 page)

Plus, she had to escape Mark. She was beginning to crave him as desperately as any drug. His knowing touch sent jolts rocketing through her body, and already they molded to each other like longtime lovers. He even draped her the way she liked: her head on his shoulder, his leg over hers, his hand splayed over her hip.

He was going to be hard to forget, she realized with burgeoning panic. And she was beginning to care way too much.

“It’s tempting to stay, of course, but I can’t. I have stuff to do. I need to stop at Walmart too,” her words came in an embarrassed rush, “if you don’t mind lending me thirty bucks?”

“Okay.” Eyes hooded, he crossed his arms and settled against the pillows, all sexy and disappointed male. “I’ll drive you home whenever you want.”

“Then I’ll have a quick shower and leave.” She leaped from the bed and didn’t look back, didn’t want him to see how hard this was. She grabbed her clothes, balled them up along with her fraying emotions and fled the room.

***

The lady ahead of Jessica in the checkout line searched through her bulky purse for one last nickel. Jessica peered over her shoulder, checking the front entrance, praying Mark wouldn’t enter and spot her with boys’ clothing stuffed in her arms. How long had she been in the store? Five minutes, maybe ten?

“I only need some tampons and stuff,” she’d said, as she thrust him his phone. “You can use the time to make some more horse calls. I really prefer to shop alone.” His face had hardened and she knew she’d hurt him, but there had been no other way to keep him from accompanying her.

Clink
. At last the sluggish lady found exact change, dropped a nickel on the counter, and moved on. Jessica sagged with relief as the cashier bagged her purchases for the boy. Safely bought.

She rushed from the store and back into Mark’s car. He was talking to the horse masseuse when she slid into the passenger’s seat, and she tucked the precious bag on the floor beside her feet.

“Okay, Shelley, massage him again tomorrow,” Mark said, “but I want the chiropractic work immediately following his jog.”

Shelley’s reply made Mark chuckle, a deep sexy sound that filled the car and pricked her with jealousy. Shelley worked for several elite barns and had entry into the tight trainers’ circle. No wonder; she was kind, always smiling and not prone to waspish mood swings.

Suddenly contrite, Jessica grabbed a pen and paper and jotted down notes while Mark talked on his car phone. Another round of hyaluronic acid for the claimer in stall thirty-two, a fifteen-minute media session at ten and the feed man agreed to remove the dusty alfalfa Mark insisted—quite forcefully, she thought—wasn’t fit for horses.

“You working to keep the change?” He raised an eyebrow as he finished another call.

Flushing, she scribbled down the last details of his conversation. He had generously passed her one hundred dollars outside the department store, of which she’d only spent thirty, but the change had been shoved in her back pocket; she’d quite honestly forgotten about it.

“Sorry,” she said, dropping the pencil and digging out the money. “I’ll pay you back the thirty dollars next payday.”

“Keep it,” he said, reaching over and squeezing her hand. “Dino told me you cleaned all the spare tack. That’s a hundred-dollar job, at least. You’ve been working hard.”

She swallowed. His praise shouldn’t make her heart leap. Casual sex and temporary relations were fine in theory but she’d never done either of them well, and she was beginning to care way too much. But impermanence was a way of life to Mark; he relished it, preferred it. Horses and people drifted in and out of his barn every month. While they were there he was attentive, kind, and caring. When they left, it was no big deal. Others simply took their place.

She swallowed, trying to clear her throat, glad it was dark so he couldn’t see her struggle. A similar situation occurred with sports. When she was injured, there’d been a week of shared tears, but someone had quickly stepped up and filled her spot. Now it was as though she’d never existed.

Her grandfather also had an out-of-sight mentality. He and Mark talked regularly. She’d lingered during one of their conversations hoping Gramps would want a quick hello, especially since her phone had been stolen. Mark had been silent for a moment then just shrugged and gestured her back to work.

It was quite possible Gramps had forgotten she was at Belmont Park. Forgotten she was no longer living with her European ski host. That thought was so depressing, she was tempted to bolt across the seat and settle into Mark’s comforting chest. Had to grip the seat to keep herself grounded.

She’d forgotten Mark was attuned to body language, conditioned to overseeing the welfare of his horses and staff. He reached out and tugged her to his side, and she was too needy to resist. He tucked her under his arm, expertly whipping through traffic as he steered with one hand.

“Don’t worry, honey. You’ll have what you want in three weeks. Not much longer to go.” He spoke so sweetly, she turned her head into his chest so he wouldn’t see her expression. A dog kennel. The idea seemed ludicrous now. She couldn’t imagine not working with horses.

They drove the last miles in silence while she absorbed his quiet confidence, his rock-solid core. Gradually she felt much better, less alone. He did that with horses too, just placed a hand on their neck and soothed them with his touch.

Much too soon she spotted the glow of the backside and the looming security booth. Mark didn’t move his arm, but his muscles tensed, so she slid to the passenger side, aware he didn’t like public displays. Wouldn’t want anyone to see them together, not at the track.

She stretched and pretended to yawn. “Oops, sort of fell asleep there.”

“Jesus Christ,” he said.

Two police cars blocked the road, their lights slashing red and blue lines across the dark sky. A security guard stepped up to Mark’s window and studied his credentials. “You’re okay if you hang left, but the apartments on the back section are restricted. I have to check your trunk too.”

“What happened?” Mark asked after the guard scanned his trunk and returned to the driver’s window.

“There’s been a stabbing. Police cordoned off a section. Been investigating for the last couple hours. Ambulance left a while back.”

“Aw, hell,” Mark said, easing through the gate and veering left, away from the chain of vehicles. Pebbles rattled the bottom of his car as he circled, following a narrow horse track to the right and clearly not following the guard’s directions.

A stabbing? Jessica leaned forward, peering into the shadows, her mouth dry as her thoughts churned around the boy.

“I have some employees living in that area,” Mark said, squeezing her arm. “Want to make sure they’re okay. But don’t worry about Maria. Her apartment isn’t in that section.”

She nodded but couldn’t unwrap her hands from the seat, haunted by visions of the man’s deadly knife.
Please, God, let the little boy be safe
.

Mark drove with purpose, threading left and right until she was completely disoriented. He sped over one final hill and pulled over by a group of men. “That’s Manuel,” he said tersely. “Stay in the car.”

She had no intention of getting out. Manuel and the Mexican Mafia. The name alone made her palms sweat. She leaned forward on the edge of her seat, watching as a man swaggered from the pack. The tip of his cigarette glowed bright red as he approached Mark.

A laugh, handshakes. She blew out a relieved breath. Friendly so far. Mark looked relaxed too, smiling, waving his hands like he did whenever he spoke Spanish. Manuel turned, made an impatient gesture and someone rushed over with two beer. Looked like Coronas, Mark’s favorite.

Okay, this might be all right. The thumping in her chest steadied. Mark and Manuel seemed like old friends. But even Dino had looked a little pensive when he talked about Manuel, and nothing ever bothered Dino. Best to be ready.

She slid over to the driver’s seat. Wiped her clammy hands on her jeans and cracked open the window. She could listen and then swoop up with the car if they turned mean.

Cool air gusted through the open window, carrying the murmur of male conversation and the smell of cigarettes. Someone was frying onions. But not too much seemed to be happening. She adjusted the seat, the mirror, then drummed her fingers on the leather wheel.

It didn’t appear Mark would need rescuing any time soon. He’d casually hooked the bottle in his thumb and now spoke with another man in a stream of Spanish, broken only by his occasional question. Completely unexciting. Boring, even.

Mark gestured. Three heads suddenly swiveled to stare at her. She tried not to flinch. Manuel laughed, and Mark walked toward the car in his long relaxed stride, not hurrying at all. Her relief escaped in a whoosh.

“I said you were getting impatient and might drive off and leave,” Mark said, pulling open the door. “Slide your butt over. This is my spot.”

“Thought you might need rescuing.” She peered over the dash, wanting a final peek at the infamous Manuel. “They don’t act much like Mafia,” she added, rather disappointed.

“Oh, Jess.” He spoke so tenderly she almost forgot to ask what he’d learned, but obviously it wasn’t one of his employees who’d been hurt. He was too relaxed, smiling at her in that intimate way that made her thoughts turn fuzzy.

“So? What did you find out?” she asked, once she could talk without any hint of breathlessness.

“Groom from barn eighty-nine. Stabbed outside the dorm and rushed to hospital. Manuel’s cousin said Dick had been around a few days earlier asking questions.”

“Dick? Tricky Dick? The man who has the clothes?”

“Yeah. Know him?”

She stared out the window, blinking furiously, trying to hold back a rush of tears. Not an innocent kid but a kind, generous man. “I know him,” she finally managed. “He’s a wonderful man. Raises a lot of money for Anna House. Is he going to be okay?”

“Sounds like he’ll live. Luckily a neighbor was there.” Mark eased his car into the lot close to his office. “Manuel said Dick was flashing a picture. Keen on finding out if anyone knew some guy.”

“Oh no!” Horror jerked her forward. She gripped her hands so tightly they hurt. “Then it’s my fault.” Her voice quavered. “Dick took that picture when I was sorting clothes. He thought the man followed me…but I didn’t know him. The first time I saw him was by the paddock, just before my phone was stolen.”

“Whoa. Slow down.” Mark frowned. “I saw that guy too. Kid ran right up to him. One of Manuel’s guys told Dick the man in the picture has been around for a few months. Has a kid and qualified for a family apartment. The apartment’s empty now though.” He turned off the ignition and opened his door. “Tomorrow I’ll ask the police to check Dick’s apartment for the picture. They’ll probably want to talk to you. Too bad they haven’t found the kid. Might’ve helped Dick.”

She squeezed her hands and averted her head, wishing the dome light wasn’t so bright. “I did see the boy,” she managed, afraid to look at Mark and see his condemnation. “Last night. But he ran away in the morning before I could tell you.”

“You had all day to tell me.

“But I thought you’d call the authorities.” She looked at him then, trying not to squirm beneath his incredulous stare. “And then he’d have to go back with his father, who might have been the man with the knife.”

Mark said nothing, just stared as though she were a strange species he’d never seen before. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling raw and exposed. “He was good at sorting betting tickets,” she added, her throat thick with misery. “Maybe that had something to do with it.”

Mark slammed his door shut and sat back in his seat. He reached over, his arm brushing her leg as he picked up her Walmart bag. Adjusted the powerful overhead light. Plastic rustled when he opened the bag and examined its contents.

“Kids’ clothes?” Coldness filled his voice, chilling the car. “Clearly you expect him to return. You lied to me.” He tossed the bag on her lap. “Go to your room. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

She sucked in her cheeks, trying to hide her devastation. “I’m really tired. Can’t we talk about this in the morning?” But when she scooped up the doggy bag of leftover cheese and crackers, his mouth flattened in understanding.
Oh shit
. And now a muscle ticked on the side of his jaw.

“We’ll pursue this in your room. Tonight,” he snapped.

***

Jessica rubbed her forehead, trying to block the relentless images of Dick and the brutal attack. But Mark’s belief that the stabbing could’ve been prevented left her aching with guilt. Mark was fluent in Spanish, and it was possible the kid might have identified the man in time.

Possible, but maybe not. Maybe it wasn’t the same guy. Maybe it was some jerk who didn’t like Dick’s lifestyle.

All the maybes made her feel better, and she almost convinced herself that telling Mark about the kid wouldn’t have made the slightest difference. He was just huffy because she hadn’t told him everything.

She heard voices as Mark spoke with the guard, the horses’ soft nickers as he walked down the aisle. A stall guard opened, and she knew he’d stopped to visit Assets. A minute, then two of silence. He was probably checking the colt’s legs now, maybe rewrapping if he thought the bandages were the slightest bit uneven. Or even if they weren’t. Lately he’d been so fussy.

She jabbed her pillow, swept with regret. It was a busy season, and she didn’t know how he managed all the horses, all the people, all the details. Certainly she hadn’t made his life easier. The lesson on Ghost had taken more than an hour, and the extra time spent at his house, the slice of romance—

The hard rap on the door made her shiver. Definitely not a romantic visit now. He opened the door and stalked in, all broody, moody male.

Kato leaped from under the cot.

“Not now, Kato.” She grabbed the cat before he attacked Mark’s leg.

Mark’s mouth curved just a bit but flattened when he spotted the boy’s jeans drying on her bike. He shot her a look so full of reproach, shame filled her. He picked up the boy’s black T-shirt, still damp from her washing, and scanned the label. Searched the jeans.