My phone buzzed with a call. “David,” I said, placing the phone to my ear.
“I’ve got something on the security feed.”
“I’m seeing it, too, but I can’t get a clear visual.”
“Based on build and the way he’s moving, I’d say it’s a man. But the ball cap is shielding his face. It’s too dark to see who it is.”
The man climbed up and sat on top of the plank fence along the back of the farm. He was right next to the cottage just inside the back gate—a gate that hadn’t been in use until I hired a crew to come in and clear out the cottage earlier today. A thought had struck me after discussing the cottage with Brooke, and I had acted on it.
“What are you doing watching the cameras?” I said. “Where’s tonight’s night watchman?”
“He ran late due to an appointment with his wife—she’s pregnant. I told him I would keep an eye on things until he got here.”
David had the ability to watch the security feeds from his own house, which was also on the farm.
“What do you want to do?” he asked. “Whoever it is, they’re trespassing, unless it’s one of your employees, which I doubt. I’m not even sure how he got on the farm.”
The man was just sitting there on the fence. And as I watched, I swore he turned and looked straight at the camera—which I thought was pretty well hidden.
I knew then that it was Romeo. Though I couldn’t make out his face—and even if I could, I didn’t know what Romeo looked like—I knew it was him.
“I’ll handle it,” I said. “Please keep watch on the monitors. Brooke is on her way. I don’t want her to know about this tonight.”
I hadn’t yet changed for the auction, so I set out for the back of the farm dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt, with a Glock tucked into my waistband. Since Brooke had my SUV, I drove the Audi S8—my gift to myself after winning the Bluegrass Derby. It was a rather spontaneous purchase, even for me, but it was damn fun to drive.
When I pulled up in front of the cottage, Romeo was gone. I figured he would be. But I wanted him to know I was keeping an eye on the security feeds.
My phone buzzed with a text from David: He circled around. He’s now at the front gate. He’s sitting on the fence there.
I dialed Brooke.
“Sheesh, you’re impatient. I’m pulling—”
“Brooke. Stop where you are. Romeo is on the property. He’s—”
“I see him.” She hung up.
I stared at the phone in disbelief. “Dammit, Brooke!”
I knew it was pointless to call her back, so I dialed David.
“She’s nothing if not fearless,” David laughed. “But he’s gone. As soon as Brooke pulled over, he leapt off the fence and out of view. She didn’t go after him. I’m assuming he had a vehicle just out of range of the cameras.”
“And she didn’t chase after him? She’s still at the front gate?” I asked in disbelief.
“She’s pulling in.”
My phone buzzed, and I saw Brooke’s picture smiling at me. “I’ll call you back, David.” I switched over to Brooke.
“You’re going to need to get someone out to the main gate,” she said. “There are road stars all over the road.” Irritation coated every word.
“That explains why you didn’t go after him.” I ran a hand through my hair. I was relieved that she hadn’t, even if it was only because he’d laid a booby trap.
She hung up without saying anything else. In addition to never being on time, she was a bit passionate about getting justice. And I wasn’t sure she would ever rest until she caught the man who was now taunting both of us.
I stood in the doorway of the master bathroom. Brooke had just taken the fastest bubble bath I’d ever witnessed. After spreading lotion over her arms and legs, she turned to me, her gorgeous dark hair piled in a messy bun high up on her head. She was still wrapped in a plush bath towel. “I can’t wait to throw that sociopath in a jail cell,” she said through gritted teeth.
“He’ll be lucky if jail is his punishment.”
She angled her head. Something shifted across her face. “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean, if he continues to come onto my property and threaten those I love… Do I really need to finish that sentence?”
“No, you don’t. And you’d be well within your right.” She breathed a sigh of exasperation. “I’m just so mad. Why is he coming after you?”
“Is that what’s got you worked up? The fact that he’s not just targeting you anymore?”
“Of course. Romeo has always been my problem—one I plan to solve. I won’t let him bring his stupid games into our lives. Onto your property and close to your home. That’s not fair to you.” She stopped, let out another breath. “Not fair to us,” she corrected, then turned to the bathroom mirror and began putting on makeup.
Tension spread along my neck and jaw. I balled my hands into fists, but hid them beneath my crossed arms. “So, what? This is your problem to solve?” My Irish temper flared.
“What?” She shifted her gaze in the mirror to meet my stare, holding a makeup brush against her cheek. “Well, he is my source.”
“Was. He was your source. You’re no longer a federal agent.”
She exchanged the makeup brush for mascara, started to lean into the mirror but thought better of it. She turned and dropped her hand. “Yes, Romeo was my source who just happens to be infatuated with me.” She placed a fist over her chest. “I brought him here to Kentucky.”
“I don’t want to fight with you, Brooke.”
“Then why are you picking one?” She turned back around and began applying mascara.
“God, you’re beautiful,” I said, and when she looked at me this time, I smiled. “Infuriating, but beautiful.”
She finished with the mascara and tossed the tube back in the bag. She stalked toward me. “We are going to stop Romeo. But you can’t blame me for being upset that he came onto your property tonight. He’s only in your life because of me. The police have no clue how to find him, and the FBI’s trail ran cold after Governor Spencer’s death. But I’m going to figure out who he is. And when I do, he won’t be able to watch me so closely, because I’m going to plaster his picture everywhere.”
“I’m not trying to fight with you, but one more question—a change of subject.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Why do you refuse to call this your home?” When she looked at a loss for words, I added, “Several times during our… conversation just now, you referred to this as my home and my property, never ours.”
Her face softened. She tried to look away, but I touched her cheek and forced her to look at me.
“Maybe because it’s so big,” she said with a smile.
I returned the smile. “That’s not true. I’ve seen photographs of your grandfather’s farm. It was twice the size of this one.”
“You’ve seen pictures of Wisteria Lane Farm?” Her eyes lit up just saying the name.
“Yes, and I know you called that home for a time.”
“And how do you know that?”
“Your father mentioned it once. And this is not the point.”
“What is the point? Because we’re running late, and I still need to get dressed.”
I grabbed her shoulders. “Yes, you do.” I leaned in and kissed her hard. “I’m sorry I picked a fight. That’s not what I was intending.”
“You’re forgiven.” She squeezed past me and moved toward the closet. “You said something about a dress?” she called over her shoulder. “And a surprise? If it will help me get ready fast—” She stopped mid-sentence as she saw that a new dress and shoes were already displayed for her.
I walked to the closet. “I’m assuming this dress and those shoes are satisfactory?”
Mrs. G had chosen a lovely bluish-gray dress with a black floral design hand-embroidered into the fabric. The shoes were black patent, peep-toe heels from Jimmy Choo.
She whipped aroun
d and pointed a finger. “Stop spoiling me.”
I placed a hand on her hip. “I’ll stop spoiling you if you’ll promise to let Romeo go. Stop trying to track him yourself. Call your friends at the FBI and let them handle him.”
She stared at me a couple of beats, stood on her toes, and gave me a kiss on my cheek. “Fine. Buy me all the shoes you’d like.”
She started to pull back, but I grabbed her and brought her closer. “He’s testing us. If you’re not going to get help from your FBI friends, promise me you’ll be careful.”
“Promise. Now can I get dressed? We’re going to be late.” She batted her lashes.
I smiled down at her. “Yes. I had Mrs. G choose an A-line skirt in order to better hide your weapon beneath it. It’s not my favorite fit, but I like knowing that you can protect yourself at all times.”
“And you,” she added with a smile. “I like knowing I can protect you, too.”
This time, I couldn’t stop a laugh from escaping. “Of course. Though I’m pretty sure I’m covered.”
“Are you carrying, Mr. O’Roark?”
“I may have a trick or two up my pant leg,” I said. Ever since I’d realized that Brooke attracted the likes of outlaw motorcycle gang members and informants-turned-stalkers, I had begun wearing an ankle holster on a regular basis. It wasn’t that I didn’t think she couldn’t protect herself, I just knew everyone needed someone to watch their back.
She kissed me again. “Now, didn’t you say we needed to get to Kensington by a certain time?”
“Yes.” I looked at my watch. “We need to leave in the next ten minutes.” I pulled a tiny box from my pocket, wrapped in white with a pale pink box. “Plenty of time to give you this.”
“What the hell is that?” she said, horrified.
I smiled. “Apparently, not what you think. Open it.”
She stared at the gift like it might leap off my hand and bite her. “Did Mrs. G. bring that when she brought the clothes?”
I furrowed my brow. “No. This is all me.” I grabbed her hand and lifted it. “Open your hand, Brooke.”
She did as I commanded, and I set the box on her opened palm.
“You’re making way too big a deal about this,” I said.
Her eyes met mine. “Oh, fine.” She turned her back on me and proceeded to untie the ribbon.
I looked over her shoulder. When she opened the even smaller box inside the initial box, she found a pair of diamond drop earrings.
“They’re beautiful,” she whispered. She whipped around and held them out. “They’re too much.”
“Don’t insult me,” I warned, deciding I needed to appeal to her Southern manners. “I thought they were simple enough to go with anything you might wear, but elegant enough that you could wear them even on a night like this.”
She stared at them for a few more seconds, then moved in and slid her arms around me. “Thank you. They’re perfect.”
I smiled and kissed the top of her head. “Now we have five minutes.”
She backed away and slapped at my chest. “Then I’m going to need you to stop touching me and let me get this dress on.”
I lifted her hand and kissed the back of it. “I’ll wait downstairs. I need to speak to David before we go.”
And it was time I brought Dimitri back into the fold. If anyone could help us track down Romeo, it was Dimitri Tobias.
Chapter 12
David dropped us at the main entrance to the sales pavilion. We were a bit overdressed for the sales, to which most people wore jeans and button-down shirts, but we wouldn’t have time to change before the after-party.
Declan tucked his sales book under his arm and reached for my hand.
“It’s about damn time,” Aidan said when we entered the bar area outside the pavilion. “Good evening, Brooke,” he added when Declan gave him a hard stare.
“When are you going to learn?” Declan asked.
He shrugged. “I’m sorry.” He looked at me. “I’m sorry, Brooke. I did bring you something tonight.”
“Oh yeah?” I knew I needed to make more of an effort with Aidan if I planned to stay in Declan’s life. But I’d think about that after I decided to stay in Declan’s life. If I ever decided that once and for all.
A voice spoke behind me. “Brooke, you’re here.”
I turned and found Marti in a lovely red dress. Her long blond hair hung in waves. She was wearing ridiculously high heels, and I loved them to death.
I gave her a little hug. “I had no idea you were coming.”
“We better get in there,” Aidan said. “Declan cut this one a little too close.” He gestured for Declan and me to go ahead. I caught him giving Marti a strange look. Marti giggled in response.
I eyed Aidan, then Declan. “Why do I feel like I’m missing something?” I looked at Marti, who stopped smiling and shrugged.
“Don’t look at me,” she said. “I was just told to put on a pretty dress.”
“Which you did, and you look lovely.” Aidan slid a hand to Marti’s back, then leaned in and kissed her neck in a rare public display of affection.
Before I could react, Declan grabbed my hand and tugged. “Aidan’s right. We need to get in there. I’ve had my eye on a lovely yearling since the sales books were published. I don’t want to miss the auction.”
“These are some high-priced animals,” Aidan said to Marti. “Do not raise a hand or make any sudden movements during the auctions, or you could find yourself the proud owner of a multi-million-dollar one-year-old horse.”
Marti gaped, and I laughed. But Aidan was serious. These auctions were fast, and the spotters were looking for even the slightest movement from buyers.
As we took our seats, Declan handed me his sales catalog so he could remove his suit jacket. I began flipping through the book. It had been a while since I’d attended the sales; the last time was with my grandfather at another Kentucky venue.
“Sold. Three point five million dollars,” the auctioneer said with the slamming of the gavel. “Next, HIP six-twenty-seven. Chestnut filly by All That Jazz. Let’s start the bidding with—”
“I forgot how much I loved horse sales,” I said as I found HIP 627 in the sales catalog.
Declan leaned close to my ear. “What do you love most about it?”
“The thoroughbreds themselves, of course,” I said. “They’re just so beautiful. But I also love the energy, the competition among buyers, and the money. So much money changing hands. I always wondered how men, with all their testosterone, didn’t end up way overspending. Especially on yearlings.”
“Yeah,” Marti said. “Millions of dollars on an unproven one-year-old animal?”
Aidan laughed. “They spend all right, and I’m just glad they do. Well… I’m glad Declan does, and then brings those unproven animals to me to make athletes out of them.”
“Well,” Declan said, “good horsemen don’t go into an auction blindly. They study pedigrees closely, hire good veterinarians and other experts, then examine the animals for themselves.”
“True,” Marti said, “but come on. How can you be sure about a yearling?”
“Sometimes you just know,” Declan said. They were the same words I’d heard my grandfather mutter once upon a time: Sometimes you just know.
The auctioneer brought down the gavel on another sale, and I turned the page to HIP 628. “Oh my gosh,” I said when I read the name of the horse’s “dam”—its mother. “There’s a colt out of Lily’s Blossom.” Lily’s Blossom was the horse I had ridden as an exercise rider when I was working my way through college. I was her full-time rider the year she won all three legs of the Triple Tiara, a series of three prominent Grade II horse races for fillies. She had been retired as a racehorse two years later and was now a highly sought-after broodmare.
“And wow,” I added. “That’s an impressive sire. Lily’s Blossom is the horse—”
“Let’s begin the bidding at one point five million,” the auctioneer sai
d.
Aidan slid a bidding paddle over to Declan.
A man across the pavilion immediately raised his paddle. Then another man raised his paddle at two million. This went on for several bids until one of the two men dropped out.
That’s when Declan lifted his paddle.
I stared at him. “This is the horse you came to purchase tonight?”
Declan lifted a finger to his lips, shushing me, then lifted his paddle again as the auction price rose to three point five million. Another man joined in the bidding. There were now three bidders. And the price was going up quickly. Until…
“Six million one hundred thousand going once. Twice. Sold to paddle seven thirty-three.”
I was staring at Declan, my mouth hanging open, when he turned to me. “That was certainly exhilarating. Ready?”
“Ready? For what?” I was in shock.
“To go to the cocktail party. It started thirty minutes ago.”
I turned to ask Aidan if he had known what Declan had been planning to do. But he and Marti were already climbing the stairs toward the exit.
I whipped back around. “We only came for one horse? That particular horse? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Yes, we—I—came for one horse, that particular horse. And I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t aware you would have an opinion about what horses I planned to purchase. And it was supposed to be a surprise. Would you like to know which yearlings I plan to purchase tomorrow?”
I started to speak, but closed my mouth. “No, I guess not.” It was none of my business, really, what horses Declan purchased for his racing stable. True, I had a history with horses, and could have offered an opinion, but that was no longer my thing. It was his.
My thing was investigating people doing bad things.
I handed Declan the sales catalog, then hurried to catch up with Marti and Aidan. Declan followed.
The sounds of the auction continued behind me. The energy in the building was electric. Some of the young horses went for hundreds of thousands, some went for one or two million, and a select few, like the colt Declan had purchased, went for record-breaking amounts.
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