Racetrack Romance BOX SET (Books 1-3) (80 page)

“I pushed pretty hard. Ribs okay?”

“Yes, no need for the hospital,” she said. “Thanks again, by the way. That’s never happened to me before.”

He unlocked the door, dropped his briefcase on the floor and stalked into the kitchen. She pulled her boots and jacket off, then hesitated. She wasn’t at all hungry so there was no reason to join him. Especially since he was in a foul mood despite just saving her life.

No, it was probably best to duck into the Jacuzzi—he’d understand her chest would be tender and with any luck, he’d either be asleep or in an improved mood when she stepped out.

She eased down the hall. Saw him sprawled in a chair at the kitchen table, glass in his hand, bottle of rum and phone beside him. His eyes locked with hers, and he kicked out a chair with his foot. “Sit.”

She swallowed, walked into the kitchen and sat. He didn’t offer a drink, just swirled the ice in his glass, his blue eyes glittering with resentment. “Where is the kid now?” he asked.

She squared her shoulders and stared back, determined not to look guilty. But he was much better at this, and she was the first to look away. “With Maria and Pedro.”

“Whose idea?”

Oh, God. She gulped. Mark had such strict rules. Even if he didn’t want to, he’d be obligated to fire Maria. And the job meant everything to her.

Her gaze darted to the left and clung to a fridge magnet. She was leaving in a week. It seemed a small lie to protect a loyal friend. But it wasn’t small. Especially when Mark was sitting there, staring at her, acting like the truth was so important.

The kitchen clock ticked in the sticky silence. She tore her gaze from the magnet and back to Mark. “My idea,” she whispered but her heart pounded with such intensity she could no longer hear the clock.

“May I see your knee?”

She scanned his face for a flicker of a smile, but he didn’t seem to be joking. She rose and unzipped her jeans, pulled her leg out and extended her knee.

He kneeled, watching her face while he manipulated her knee. “Any pain?”

“No. It feels great.” She leaned forward, eager at the chance. “I know you don’t want me as a groom, but I could walk hots. I never get tired anymore...I can walk all day.”

He ignored her. Continued poking and prodding. A wrinkle of concentration appeared between his eyes. “Not a bit of swelling now, but you had some when you came.” He spoke so thoughtfully he appeared to be talking to himself.

“Yes. Every two weeks, one of Gramps’ doctors would inject a needle and drain the fluid.”

“How did that work?”

“Hurt for a few days, but after a week it always felt better.” His hair was rumpled, as though he’d been running his hands through his hair, and she resisted the urge to straighten it. If this was a job interview, she didn’t want to screw up. “I haven’t limped for weeks, well, except for a few blisters. But I’m good now. And I wouldn’t braid or do anything you don’t like,” she added eagerly. “Really, I’d be no trouble.”

He smiled then, but it was almost sad. Not reassuring at all. “You need to take charge of your own life, not have me or your grandfather telling you what to do.”

“But I love working with the horses. And I like it when you tell me what to do.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I’m getting much better at listening,” she said, trying not to plead. “I just need a bit more time to get it right.”

“Tell me about the boy.”

“His name is Abdul. He’s from Pakistan and rode camels, and he doesn’t know anything about that man. That’s why we—that’s why I—didn’t think it was so important to tell you. Maria wants to keep him.”

“The kid isn’t a stray pup,” Mark said, and she clamped her mouth shut at his curt tone. He pressed some numbers and she heard him order a security guard be posted outside Maria’s apartment. It’s a good thing he was likely to win the Juvenile, she thought bleakly. He was spending a fortune on security.

His next call was in Spanish, very brief, and she could only pick up a few words but heard Maria’s name.

He closed his phone with obvious regret, and she bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. “Please, don’t fire her, Mark. She loves children so much. You just have to see them together. Abdul is like her little nephews, and she’d be a wonderful mother.”

He ignored her and pressed more numbers on his phone. “Dino, do we know anyone from Pakistan? A woman, not a man. Someone good with kids.”

He glanced at Jessica and switched to Spanish, and she winced. He didn’t trust her. The knowledge hurt almost as much as the fact that he was going to fire Maria.

She rose and walked numbly down the hall, past the main bathroom with the Jacuzzi and into the little shower in the spare bathroom. She stood under the pulsing water, chewing her fingernails and worrying about Maria. It might be possible to find a job without a reference from Mark, especially with a less prominent barn, but the chance for Maria to earn big bonuses was gone. She’d never be able to afford a lawyer, and Abdul might be sent back to the desert with nothing to eat and no one to love him.

She squeezed her eyes shut, letting the water spray her hot face. She wished Mark wasn’t so rigid, so focused that he couldn’t bend some rules. Probably the only reason he hadn’t fired her yet was because her grandfather owned Assets—Mark would never jeopardize his chance to win a Breeders’ Cup.

She stepped from the shower and pulled on a change of clothes. It was going to be an uncomfortable evening. No way would she sleep with a man who’d just fired her best friend. Indignation made her feel more in control, and she stalked down the hall, pausing outside his exercise room.

Thump, thump
.

She peered in. Mark pounded a leather bag, his muscles bunching. His bare chest gleamed, and sweat dampened his hair. Gray sweatpants hung low on his hips, and his ragged grunts made her think of sex.

She licked her lips and tried not to drool. If he were a horse, she’d buy him in spite of his occasional surliness and strict rules. She must have made some sort of sound, or maybe she really did groan. He looked at the door and swiped his forehead with his upper arm. She thought she knew his body well, had seen and felt him without clothes, but she’d never stood back and watched all those muscles work before.

“I didn’t fire Maria,” he said, his eyes dark with emotion.

“Oh, g-good. That is so good.” Relieved, she turned and hurried to the bed. The thumping noise continued so she laid back on the pillow and studied the room. The noise stopped, replaced with a whirring. He must be on the exercise bike now.

She laid back on the pillow and studied the room. She’d never had much leisure time here. It was pretty bare, just a big bed, a clock and a night table full of condoms. Clothes shoved into an open closet and a collection of cowboy hats placed upside down on a shelf.

The whirring noise stopped, and she fluffed up the pillow, waiting for him to finish. Her heart was pounding, and she couldn’t understand why her throat was so dry. It was much simpler when he just picked her up and carried her to bed. Waiting was nerve-wracking.

The punching started again.

She sighed and turned out the light. If she didn’t agonize about Mark and Abdul and what she was going to do in seven days, she might be able to relax enough to nap before Mark came in. And tomorrow wouldn’t be all bad. Tomorrow Buddy would be her horse. Only a race away.

She felt a swell of guilt that she had to use Mark’s money. But she’d pay him back. She kept a detailed ledger of every cent she’d borrowed, right down to the scarf from Keeneland.

And she’d make Mark and the entire barn proud of Buddy. He might not win, but he was going to look magnificent. She’d braid in two shades of purple. She even had a purple jacket on loan from Dick’s apartment.

“Take anything you want, dear,” Dick had said. “You know the rules. Just return it washed.” He truly was a dear friend. And he loved his new scarf.

She woke up groggy and disoriented. Buddy’s braids had fallen out. Clearly, she couldn’t braid right, and Mark said she had to get up. The shadow by the bed moved. It really was Mark, and she realized it wasn’t all a dream.

“Time to get up,” he repeated before vanishing from the room.

She sat up, rubbing her eyes. Checked his side of the bed. Even in the dark, she could see it was immaculate. Untouched. She scrambled onto the cold floor and quickly made the bed, her chest painfully tight. Probably sore because of the Heimlich maneuver. She absolutely was not going to feel rejected because Mark had anger issues.

The shower in the small bathroom was running, so she slipped down the hall and checked the spare bedroom. No mystery now. The bed was unmade, and the pillow still carried the imprint of his head.

She returned to the main bathroom and stumbled into the shower. The water didn’t wash away her humiliation though, and the tightness in her throat made her cough. She had blithely crawled into his bed, and he was too cowardly to say he no longer wanted her there. Talk about embarrassing. A sob leaked from her throat.

She showered and towel dried, splashed cold water on her face and yanked on her change of clothes. He probably wouldn’t wait if she wasn’t in the passenger seat exactly on time. She jammed her toothbrush and spare clothes in a plastic bag—no way was she coming back here. Cathy could have him.

She set her face in a tight smile and walked down the hall, determined to hide her pain.

He was in the kitchen making noise with a blender. Poured a frothy white drink in a glass and passed it to her, his eyes inscrutable.

She stretched, pretending utter insouciance. “I slept so well. What a comfortable bed you have. Thank you.” She accepted the glass, took a big sip and gagged. It was thick, gooey and disgusting, and she rushed to spit in the sink. “What was that?” she finally gasped.

“Egg and milk,” he said.

She bent over the sink again, still gagging, forgetting about trying to look happy and carefree.

“Protein powder too,” he said.

“If that’s what you have to drink to get muscles,” she reached for a tissue and wiped her mouth, “I’d rather be skinny.”

“You’re not skinny, honey. Come on.”

She stared at his retreating back. The affection in his voice shocked her, and relief smoothed the jagged edges of her pain. “Do I have time to brush my teeth again?” she managed.

“No,” he said.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

“For immigration? So Abdul pretended he was the man’s son?” Mark asked. “Thanks.” He closed his phone and stared across the desk at Dino.

“Sounds like we need more coffee.” Dino rose and refilled their cups.

“The Pakistani lady you found did a good job. Abdul relaxed. Talked willingly.” Mark glanced at his notes. “He came on a plane with a man called Haddad. Was told his throat would be cut if he didn’t do exactly what they said.”

Dino shook his head. “And we thought spanking was bad.”

“Abdul said it was warmer but some of the leaves were already red,” Mark went on. “He thinks he was with Haddad about twenty nights before he overheard them planning to kill him. Apparently they didn’t need a boy anymore. He’d become a liability, so he bolted.”

“And Jessica helped him get away,” Dino said. “That couldn’t have made our man, Haddad, very happy.”

Mark wheeled and glanced out the window.

“She’s okay,” Dino said, his voice solemn. “Still in Buddy’s stall. Guards at each end.”

Mark sank back in his chair, studying the blackness of his coffee. “It doesn’t seem like the carrot incident was related to the boy. Abdul said there’s another man called Karif who talked about a noble mission. Punishment for Muslims who violate Islamic law.”

“Something to do with racing then,” Dino said. “Anything odd happen to other Breeders’ Cup favorites?”

“Spud’s horse coliced last night.”

“Jesus, no! His Smart Strike colt?” Dino’s hand jerked, spilling his coffee. “Horse going to make it?”

“Doesn’t look good,” Mark said. “And the second favorite in the Classic belongs to the sheikh.”

“So either the sheikh is playing dirty, or someone’s trying to make him look bad.”

“My guess is that Haddad and Karif don’t like the sheikh.” Too edgy to remain seated, Mark rose, returned to the window and stared at his barn.

“Think the media will pick it up?” Dino asked.

“Not from us. And Spud’s too devastated to talk.”

“Understandable. Imagine having a favorite in a Breeders’ Cup race—the Classic, no less—and then, splat.” Dino smashed his hand in his palm. “You got nothing. Hard to recover from something like that. Spud might never have a big horse again.”

A muscle twitched in Mark’s jaw, and he didn’t dare turn around. “Yeah,” he said softly, “it would tear out a man’s heart.”

“We owe Jessica,” Dino went on. “Could have been our horse in that clinic.” He gave a low chuckle. “I forgot, you
have
been thanking her every afternoon. Wish I could give her my personal thanks too, you know, as assistant trainer. Maybe I could cover for you sometime—

Mark whipped around. “That’s enough, Dino.”

Dino stepped back and raised his palms, but his eyes narrowed. “Just checking the lay of the land. So this is a little more serious than I thought? Think that’s wise? Better be careful, buddy.”

“I said that’s enough.”

“Whoa, relax. Your woman. Hands off. I get it. And between now and Saturday, I won’t take my eyes off Assets or Jessica. Carlos and I can give the guards piss breaks. We’ve too much riding on this to let some feud fuck it up. What the hell are the police doing?”

“They’re coming back for more interviews,” Mark said. “And they went to the hospital again and talked to Dick Snow. Maria wants to keep the boy, but it has to go through the legal process. I have a couple psychologists lined up who’ll say he shouldn’t be removed from someone he trusts. The big knock is that Maria and Pedro live at the track.” He paused. “Now where is she going?” he muttered, forgetting about Abdul as Jessica sauntered from the barn. Her hips rolled in a graceful walk, and even the stoic day guard craned for a better look.