Unbridled

by D. Jackson Leigh

  I open my eyes to our reflected image. We lie half on the table, her bare flesh hot against mine, our sweat mingling. I jerk when her fingers, still inside me, twitch with the aftershocks of her orgasm. I feel smug that I made her come, too, even though I regret not being able to watch her face when she climaxed.

  I moan when she withdraws her fingers and wipes them on the cloth napkin I used at dinner.

  “You are so goddamned beautiful,” Marsh says, leaning over me again to kiss my shoulders. My back goes cold when she straightens and steps away. Before I can protest, she’s back with a soft throw from the sofa. She gathers me in her arms, wrapping the throw around my naked body. I lay my head on her shoulder, and we stand there, her holding me for several long moments.

  Finally, she speaks. “I need to go check on things at the barn.”

  Actually, I was surprised when she accepted my invitation to dinner. I know she trusts Alex to handle the stables in her absence, but I’ve observed that her need to be in control isn’t limited to her sex life.

  “It must be killing you not to be there when the kids and horses return from the show.” Neither of us have moved, despite her announcement of her imminent departure.

  “You’re a powerful incentive,” she says.

  I’m pleased enough to release Marsh to her duty, so I raise my head and kiss her. I mean it to be a light, brief kiss, but she deepens it until my head is swimming again. When she gives up my mouth, I step back and out of her arms. “Now go. It’s getting late. I have a book signing tomorrow, but I’ll see you Monday for my lesson.”

  Marsh nods. “You still need to work on posting a trot.” She narrows her eyes at me. “I’m starting to wonder if you’re purposely bad at it.” She picks up her sports bra from the floor and tucks it into the back pocket of her jeans. When she turns to retrieve her shirt, I see a flash of red lace peeking out of her other pocket. I smile to myself. It’s an unspoken gesture of ownership. Who owns whom is the unanswered question.

  “I’m not above that sort of thing if the incentive is spending time with you. But in this case, I really just can’t find the rhythm.”

  “You will,” she says with her usual complete certainty.

  If only I were that certain about her, about this—whatever it is we’re doing.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I loved this book so much, I downloaded the audio version and listened to it after I finished reading the ebook version.” The woman gushes while I sign my latest book for her. Some of the top best-selling authors roll their eyes at this type of fan. She’s overweight, has a bad haircut, and is dressed in a style not outdated enough to be retro chic.

  “Thank you, Emily. I’m so glad you enjoyed it.” I give her a genuine smile, because I love this type of fan. I wouldn’t care if she were wearing a clown suit. She bought my book three times—first in ebook, then audio, and now the hardback version I’m signing for her. “I’m thinking I might revisit that same detective character in another book.”

  Her eyes go round. “That would be so terrific,” she says, breathlessly. She leans over the table where I’m seated and stage-whispers, “But she needs a boyfriend. A big, hunky one.”

  I’ve been thinking the detective needed a hot girlfriend, but I nod earnestly at Emily. “I’ll have to consider that suggestion. Thanks for the idea.”

  The bookstore manager steps up next to me and addresses the line of people waiting to get signed copies of my book. “The store is closing in fifteen minutes, folks. We need to move this along so everybody can get their books signed.”

  This is one of the big chain stores accustomed to author signings and equipped with stanchion posts and black ropes to keep those waiting in an orderly line. While the manager is making the announcement, a store employee is pulling one of those ropes across the entry point and posting a sign telling people they can buy a pre-signed copy at the register.

  I give Emily a little wave as she’s ushered away.

  The store manager reminds me of my eighth-grade French teacher, who used to sit on a tall stool in the corner of the room with her dark sunglasses on during tests to catch anyone who cheated. No dark sunglasses, but he stands a few feet away to discourage any fan like Emily who wants to chat with me. Yet he’s gracious, thanking me after the last person walks away with their signed copy. He waves an employee over to collect the few unsigned books left, so I begin to gather my messenger bag and prepare to leave.

  “Could I talk you into signing one more?”

  The store manager has gone to manage someone or something else, but the clerk who is collecting the books protests. “I’m sorry, but Ms. Everhart is leaving, and the store is closing. You can—”

  “Tallie, it’s so nice to see you.” I grab a book from his arms and dig my favorite signing pen and my credit card out of my bag. “Of course I’ll sign one for you.”

  I haven’t worked up the courage to tell Marsh about the book I’m working on, so I’ve decided that Tallie will be a fantastic source for the details on how the eventing circuit works. I’ll crosscheck what she tells me, but googling things is just not the same as knowing someone who has actually been involved. I have so many questions for her. I hand the clerk my credit card and begin writing an inscription in the book for Tallie. “Will you ring up this book for me, please?”

  The clerk looks uncertain, then takes the card. “Sure, Ms. Everhart. I’ll be right back.”

  “You didn’t have to do that,” Tallie says when I hand her the signed book. “I can well afford the price of a book.”

  I smile at her. “Consider it advance payment. I need a consultant on the book I’m currently writing.”

  “A consultant?”

  “Do you have time for me to buy you dinner and explain?”

  Tallie smiles back. “Why, yes. I do. In fact, I was going to invite you.”

  “Excellent.” I shoulder my messenger bag. “There’s a Thai restaurant a few doors down.”

  “Perfect,” she says. “Lead the way.”

  * * *

  “The manuscript I’m working on now is set in the eventing world, so I could use someone involved to check my details, answer my late-night questions, give me the inside on how things work…that sort of thing. You can only piece together so much from YouTube videos, and it’s hard to find current information. My questions might be as simple as ‘do you have to wear a certain color blazer when you show dressage’ to ‘what kind of security would they have in a show barn.’ You can waste a lot of time trying to search for details on the internet, and the information you get isn’t always reliable. It’s quicker and easier if you have an expert to consult.”

  Tallie cocks her head, chewing her curried chicken before answering. “I was under the impression you were friends with Marsh Langston and Jules Ransom. They won’t answer your questions?”

  “I am.” I shift uncomfortably. How much should I reveal? “I take lessons from Marsh and met Jules just from her being around the barn.” I didn’t want to reveal that Jules had given me a massage once, because that might generate more questions I didn’t want to answer. “But I asked Marsh once why she doesn’t ride in competition anymore, and she won’t talk about it. She got rather touchy, so I’m thinking it’s better if I find someone else for a consultant.”

  Tallie sips her tea, looking thoughtful. “I’m not surprised she’s closed-mouth about that. It was a nasty mess all around—that horse being found dead in its stall.”

  “I read something about that, but there’s not much information about what actually happened.”

  “Marsh threw away a very successful career in one misguided moment. She’s lucky she’s not in prison. She probably would be if Kate Parker hadn’t stepped in to get her off the hook.”

  I can’t believe it. I’m staring across the table at a gold mine of information. Hot damn. “Kate Parker?” I scoop some jasm
ine rice into my mouth, trying to appear only casually interested.

  “Living this close to Cherokee Falls, I’m surprised you haven’t heard of Saint Kate,” Tallie says. She looks like she’d just eaten something bad in her curry.

  “Saint Kate?” I’m starting to sound like a parrot. “I bought my property less than two years ago and am afraid that—even though Cherokee Falls is only forty-five minutes from here—I’ve only been there once to speak to a class at the college, and then on Saturday for the horse show. So, no, I don’t know Kate Parker.”

  “Kate, and I guess her wife Laura Black Parker, owned the equestrian training center, where the show was held yesterday, until they signed it over to Kate’s heir, Jessica. Anyway, Kate is a hurricane—always stirring things up, butting in where she shouldn’t, and throwing her influence and money around. The Parkers are old money, and Kate gives to so many charities that people around here think she’s a lesbian Mother Teresa. She can afford the best attorneys in the state and golfs with every important judge in three districts.”

  “You have a problem with lesbians?”

  “Not at all. It’s well known that you prefer ladies, and I asked you to dinner, didn’t I?”

  I laugh, but being a stickler for details and accuracy, I correct her for no real reason. “I asked you, although you did mention that you intended to ask me before I beat you to it.”

  Tallie’s smile is warm. “I enjoy your books and our new friendship. We’re becoming friends, aren’t we?”

  “Yes. I think we are.” I’m pleased that she understands I’m only interested in friendship. Tallie is maybe twenty years older than I am, but very attractive. If I weren’t so enamored with Marsh, I’d definitely consider her for some recreational sex. Then again, maybe not. Tallie has an edge that surfaces briefly when she talks about Kate Parker, and I wonder who else might put that hard glint in her eyes. “I have to ask you, though, never to repeat anything we discuss. You’d be surprised at how cutthroat the publishing business and the media who follow publishing can be.”

  “I understand completely.” She holds up one hand, her fingers arranged in what I surmise is a “Girl Scouts’ honor” pledge of silence.

  She doesn’t explicitly say she won’t repeat our conversations, but I brush that detail aside because I don’t want to be a diva about the issue. “Back to Kate Parker and Marsh. What’s their connection, other than their interest in horses?”

  “It’s all very incestuous, if you ask me. Kate mentored Skyler Reese, who married Kate’s and Laura’s daughter, Jessica, who manages the equestrian center. Skyler runs the Youth Equestrian Program for troubled and disadvantaged kids that Kate and her mother started. Skyler and Marsh are friends, so I’m sure that’s how Kate got to know Marsh.”

  “Was Marsh part of that program? Is that how she knows Skyler?” I frown. Marsh has never mentioned her family, except for Harrison. Had she been a troubled kid, or disadvantaged?

  “No. Skyler and Marsh were always competing against each other on the eventing circuit and somehow became friends. I think Skyler was Marsh’s connection to Kate, because not long after Skyler and Marsh became friends, Marsh started campaigning a horse or two for the Parkers. I still can’t figure out why Kate came to Marsh’s rescue. It was one of Kate’s horses that was killed.”

  “Oh.” She’d captured my full attention when she’d labeled the situation incestuous, and I’m disappointed I can’t whip out pen and paper to take notes. “You said Kate’s lawyer swooped in and got Marsh off the hook. That sounds like you think Marsh was guilty.”

  “Nobody will ever know. Sheriff Kate rode into town, and everything was okay at the corral again.” That hard glint flashes in her eyes again, then disappears.

  “Except one of the circuits’ top equestrians isn’t riding anymore. I have a really hard time believing Marsh would ever harm a horse. What was the evidence pointing to her?”

  Tallie shrugs again. “I don’t want to gossip. A lot of theories were flying around, and it became hard to separate the truth from rumors.” Her tone is dismissive, but I’m not ready for a change of subject, so I make a show of nodding thoughtfully.

  “But in your estimation, what rumor sounded most plausible?”

  Tallie chews for several long minutes—on the food she’s just put in her mouth and, if I’m reading her stare correctly, on how to answer my question. Then comprehension dawns in her eyes, and her expression changes like someone flipped a switch.

  “You’re basing your next book on this crime, aren’t you? That’s why you’re so curious. It’s not because you have the hots for Marsh.”

  I nod, then shake my head. I still have reservations about admitting the subject of my next book, but it might be more dangerous if I don’t qualify my questions. “I think all books, especially mysteries, start with a grain of truth. Truth rarely makes a great story, so the facts are embellished and sometimes discarded or distorted to make a boring true story into fantastic fiction.” It’s a dodge, for sure. I try again. “Yes, I’m hoping to construct an interesting mystery from the bones of what happened that day. But you’re wrong about the other. I am curious because Marsh and I are involved—sort of.”

  The confession comes with a flitter of nerves and a sense of foreboding. I brush it away as me being paranoid. What possible motive could Tallie have for violating my confidence?

  A frown instantly replaces Tallie’s smile, and her eyes harden. “How involved? You know she has a stable of women, right?”

  I force out a laugh and lie like I’m CIA. “Of course I do. I’m just having a little fun. Well, a lot of fun because that woman has skills. And I have my own stable, thank you. A willing woman at every book signing.” Okay. I’m stretching the truth a little too much, but she has no way of verifying what I say.

  Tallie turns her head to look at me sideways, amusement playing over her features. “So, you’re using Marsh, then?”

  I sputter. “Nuh-n-no. I wouldn’t call it that. Not at all.” I start shoveling a load of shit to get out of the corner my lie has backed me into. “I should have said that we’re mutually enjoying each other. Nothing more.”

  She turns back to me. “Good. I wouldn’t want my new friend to fall victim to the circuit’s biggest Lothario. Where were we?”

  “Rumors.” This is the information I’m waiting for, but all I can think about is what Marsh might be doing right now and who she might be doing whatever with. I must be covering my turmoil well because Tallie seems oblivious to it.

  “So, as I said, Marsh was contracted to ride Kate’s horse at the show but flirting her ass off with me.”

  “You dated Marsh?”

  “Marsh doesn’t date, and I wasn’t interested in a hookup. So, no. I think she was infatuated with me because she’s always been able to seduce whoever she wants.” The hard glint returns to her eyes. “In fact, Marsh came to me the day before the horse was found dead in his stall and offered to ride my horse. That was no surprise because I had a better one than the Parkers, and Marsh hates to lose. But I already had a rider familiar with mine, and she didn’t take being turned down by me again very well.”

  “That could be a motive for an unstable person, but I’ve never thought of Marsh as unstable.”

  “I’m not saying she did it, but I had to tell the police when they asked. I didn’t really think it would matter because I also told them I didn’t think Marsh had it in her to kill a horse.”

  “Okay. What else?”

  “The horse was being fed a selenium supplement, which is pretty common for show jumpers. It helps their leg joints and is safe in small doses taken orally. However, the vet who did the necropsy on the deceased horse said lab specimens showed levels of selenium in the horse’s blood stream so high, it had to have been injected. According to the security guard assigned to that stable, Marsh was the only visitor to the barn that night.”
>
  “What about security cameras?”

  “Each of the two premium barns where they house top tier competitors is equipped with one surveillance camera that shows if anyone comes in the barn and walks down the center corridor.”

  “Did the stalls have exterior-access doors?”

  “Not in those two barns. You’d have to walk in front of that camera to get to a stall, but the camera in the barn where the horse died was out of order. So, while the guard was assigned to watch over two barns, he stayed in that one all night and watched the other one on a security monitor.”

  “Why was the security camera not working?”

  “They said a rat or something had chewed through the wiring that ran along the rafters to the barn’s office. It went out that evening, and a repairman was scheduled to fix it the next day.”

  “This all seems very circumstantial. Even a mediocre lawyer could have had the charges against Marsh dropped.”

  “They also found a box of latex gloves and syringes in her trunk.”

  I’m puzzled. Marsh drives a truck. Did she drive a car back then? “Trunk?”

  Tallie leans forward over the table, her eyes glittering. I think she’s enjoying this retelling. “Every horse travels with a trunk that holds their tack, blankets, leg wraps, and basic first-aid stuff, along with any special medicines, vitamins, and supplements the horse might be taking. The gloves and syringes are unusual. A veterinarian, not the trainer or rider, would treat any injury requiring injectable drugs or gloves.”

  “And Marsh’s fingerprints were found on these items?”

  “Other than leaving them in plain sight, Marsh isn’t stupid. There were no fingerprints, but the box of gloves was open, and several were missing.”

  “Still circumstantial.”

  Tallie shrugs and sits back. “I’m sure there must have been other incriminating evidence the rumor mill didn’t circulate. Why else would the police arrest her?”