all roads lead to you

by Probst, Jennifer

  She relaxed in his arms. And they didn’t talk again for a long time.

  Chapter Twenty

  Home to the Kentucky Derby, Churchill Downs was the Vatican out of all the churches of the racing world.

  People from all over the world dreamed of putting their feet on the same hallowed ground where the most famous Thoroughbreds and jockeys had walked.

  From the moment she entered the gracious white-and-green gates, Harper had been struck by a rich sense of history and southern charm that was bred into every particle of dirt and blade of turf in the track. The twin spires added character, and the overwhelming crowds filled the space with a burgeoning excitement that was almost tangible.

  She’d made it to the big time.

  Emotion choked her throat as she gazed at her team. Elmo was dressed in his silks and meditating in a corner. Phoenix had done surprisingly well with the travel—maybe because they’d left early to give him time to settle in. Maybe because Aidan had been smart enough to take some longer road trips to get the horse used to the feeling of being transported. Captain Hoof helped soothe Phoenix’s nerves, and they’d kept him in a strict routine so he knew what was coming next.

  The only real problem seemed to be the press.

  Aidan had warned her it’d get harder, especially after winning the Champagne Stakes. Phoenix was hot news in the racing world. He’d scored the golden ticket to advance without worry about points or excess fees, and many didn’t seem happy. Gossip zinged through the papers and blogs, and her private life was suddenly cracked open for opinion. She’d turned down interviews and remained solitary, relying on Aidan to take care of the social media aspect, which he did with a deft charm and knowledge, impressing more with each day. Even now, when Harper wanted to steal a few moments bonding with her team, a reporter shoved a microphone in Aidan’s face. Instead of getting pissed off, Aidan smiled and calmly answered questions. The public seemed to devour Phoenix’s rags-to-riches tale, while the insiders of the world seemed to scathingly dismiss the horse as a one-hit wonder.

  Harper studied the regal Thoroughbred waiting to set the track on fire in front of her. He’d changed in the past few months—there was a new maturity and a bit more calmness, as if all their hard work had finally paid off. He was beginning to accept the track and its limits, all in the pursuit of being able to run.

  She rubbed under his chin, smiling as Captain Hoof spent the last few moments pressing his body against the horse’s hooves. “You’re quite regal-looking in your silks,” she said, giving him some extra pressure that he loved. His gaze locked on hers, and for a little while, she was back in the barn when she’d first rescued him, looking at a broken, bruised horse with fire in his eyes and a fuck you snarling from his lips.

  God, he was magnificent. A fighter.

  Hers.

  “We’re ready.” Aidan’s gravelly voice echoed close to her ear, and she shivered, her mind whispering the same mantra when she looked at him.

  Hers.

  She shook her head to clear it. “Hear that, boy? It’s time to show them what you got. We love you.”

  She kissed his nose and stepped back, letting him exit the stall under Aidan’s capable hands. Captain Hoof knew the drill and settled back into his pile of hay to wait for his buddy’s return. Elmo finished his meditation, and they all stood together beside Phoenix. Harper had figured she’d be jumpy with nerves and fear, but instead a peaceful strength flowed through her, and when she met each of their gazes, they shared a smile. Clasped hands for a few precious seconds. And believed.

  It was everything she’d wished for. They sent Phoenix out to race in the Breeders’ Cup Juvenile Sprint with positive energy, love, and acceptance.

  Twelve minutes and three seconds later, he stood in the winner’s circle as a champion.

  Aidan lifted his hands up in front of him.

  He was shaking.

  He stood in the bathroom stall in the greatest racetrack on Earth and tried to get his shit together before he went out to face the crowds again.

  Phoenix had won the race, setting an all-new record for speed. The horse had stood like an Arabian king as bulbs flashed in his face and a crown of roses was placed around his neck. There was none of the skittish fear. None of the fiery temper. He’d brought his battle straight to the racetrack and he’d won.

  For the first time since Kincaid’s Crown had crossed the finish line at the Irish Derby, a sense of purpose filled Aidan. He’d been born to nurture, train, and watch a horse mature into a winner. But sharing the experience with the woman he’d fallen in love with?

  Fucking priceless.

  He needed to focus on the next few hours of madness. He didn’t want Harper alone for too long with the vultures. Now that the big win was behind them, things might get nasty. They’d made a name for themselves from nothing. An abused horse. An unknown farm. A foreign trainer. A jockey with no grade-three stakes wins under his belt. America might love an underdog story, but the insiders who lived and breathed within the world of horse racing might decide to do whatever was possible to stop them.

  Good thing Aidan knew that nothing was stopping Phoenix.

  He grinned, left the stall, and washed his hands. Swiping his fingers over his face, he stared into the mirror and reminded himself he was finally getting everything he’d ever wanted.

  Redemption.

  He headed back to the stables. Phoenix was happily settled, munching on iced oatmeal cookies while Captain Hoof attacked the hay. Harper was talking animatedly to her phone, so he figured she had her siblings on FaceTime to go over every last detail. He grinned and began walking over when he heard his name called.

  The voice sounded too familiar. Crisp and clean, with a slight Irish brogue. Dread pooled in his gut. Trapped in a nightmare he never saw coming, Aidan slowly turned and faced the man who’d betrayed him.

  Colin Flynn.

  His best friend. His surrogate brother. His business partner. A man he’d drunk with, cried with, laughed with, and dreamed with. A man he’d put his trust in, only to have it ripped apart.

  Even now, his blue eyes held not a shred of regret or pain. Just stared back with a cool resolve, his face chipped in stone. Money looked good on him. He’d upped his game and wore a custom-cut gray suit. His stylish hat was tipped low over his brow. With a stocky build, red hair, and pale skin, he was a favorite in Ireland—a true homeboy who brought fame and esteem to Kildare with each win. But Aidan knew the truth. Colin cared about nothing but himself and how big his name could get with his stables. His plan to become one of the most famous trainers in Ireland had taken precedence over something Aidan couldn’t have sold.

  His soul.

  Aidan refused to pretend to be civil and didn’t want this man near Phoenix. “What are you doing here?” he clipped out.

  Colin rocked back on his heels, his sharp gaze narrowed. “Is that how you greet an old friend and partner?” he asked.

  “You’re neither of those now.”

  “But I was, until you made the decision to leave.”

  Aidan shook his head, his laugh full of bitterness. “You always did like to rewrite history. Just tell me what the hell you’re doing here.”

  “I’ve come to congratulate you, of course.” He spread his hands out in a gesture of surrender. “Only you’d be able to take an unknown horse and get him all the way to a Breeders’ Cup win. Plans for the Derby?”

  “No.”

  Colin chuckled. “Liar. Just be careful. You don’t get to the Triple Crown by playing it safe. That’s what ruined you before. I tried to help, but you always were stubborn. Are you sleeping with the owner? She’s quite fresh. Different than your usual type. Rachael still asks about you, by the way.”

  Rage battered his body, but Aidan kept it under a tight lock. Colin knew every weakness to poke at, and for some reason, he was intent on making his presence known. But why? What was his goal?

  Aidan pretended like he didn’t give a crap and assumed a b
ored expression. “Get tired of Ireland already? Decided to slum it for a day in the States, or do you have your eye on a new recruit?”

  Those blue eyes revealed a glint of greed. “Maybe. Can’t say yet, but I received an interesting call. I decided to make the trip to research the possibility. Imagine my surprise when I find your name blowing up the papers. I guess I did a favor letting you go.”

  His mind spun with the possibilities. Could Colin be stepping in to train another horse for the Derby? Or was he just trying to mess with him? Aidan opened his mouth to tell him to get the hell out, but Harper stepped up beside him with a smile on her face.

  “Sorry, Ophelia and Ethan had a million questions. Hello, I’m Harper Bishop.” Assuming they were friends, she extended her hand, and Colin shook it. Aidan had to bury the primitive howl that almost burst from his chest at the idea of the man even touching her.

  “A pleasure. Colin Flynn. I’m an old friend from Ireland. We used to work together.”

  “You did?” Harper glanced back and forth between them, obviously catching the swirling tension. “Well, this must be a nice surprise. Do you have a horse entered?”

  Aidan couldn’t take another second. Grabbing her wrist, he forced a tight smile. “Sorry, we better get going. We have an interview scheduled soon, and Phoenix needs some time.” She shot him a puzzled look but allowed him to lead her away until his chest finally loosened and he was able to drag in air.

  She lifted a brow, her face amused. “Gonna assume that guy was not a friend of yours?”

  “Not anymore.”

  He opened his mouth to tell her they needed to talk, but a swarm of press surrounded them. Within minutes, he’d be forced to deal with them, so he turned on the smile and nodded with enthusiasm. The social blitz was important in the horse-racing world—as important as it was in any sport where sponsors, networks, and potential owners could sway odds, report stories, or a hundred other minor details that were critical to get ahead of. He motioned for Harper to step away, giving her some space, and swore to himself to tell her the entire story of him and Colin tonight.

  She deserved the truth.

  It would all work out fine.

  “Congratulations on your win.”

  Harper turned, her gaze narrowing at the stylish Irishman who’d claimed to be Aidan’s friend. It was obvious he had sought her out and had something to say. Her instinct told her to walk away and ask Aidan about their relationship, but her curiosity took hold and kept her feet locked to the floor.

  Curiosity, it seemed, did kill the cat.

  “Thanks.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest and waited. She refused to ask questions or tempt him to confess his truths. If he wanted to say something specific to her, it’d be on him to make the effort.

  A smile rested on his lips. “You’re involved with Aidan, aren’t you?”

  She quirked a brow. “Why do you want to know?”

  His smile grew. “I bet you’ve been good for him. He seems to lose himself in the thrill of the chase.”

  She nodded. “I’m not the jealous type, Mr. Flynn.”

  He chuckled. “Sorry, I meant for horses. Always on the hunt for the next possibility. He thrives on the unknown.” When she remained quiet, he continued. “Of course, his last lover, Rachael, was also a horse owner, but she didn’t involve herself in the mechanics like you do. She just liked to show up at the races in a pretty dress and hat and take her place in the winner’s circle. At least you love the industry as much as he does. I’m sure it’s a special bond between you.”

  “I don’t love the industry,” she said. “I love the horses.”

  “Hmm, a quality to be respected. Especially in today’s times. Too many people are focused on the win, no matter what the consequences.”

  “You building up to something of interest, or can I politely take my leave now?” Her clipped words came from a deep sense of foreboding. She didn’t trust this man, but so far, she couldn’t seem to pinpoint exactly why.

  His face changed. Assumed a trace of grief and disappointment that threw her off guard. Colin took a step closer, creating an intimacy that made her uncomfortable. Not from a physical threat. No, this was worse. This was an emotional attack she’d never be able to forget.

  But she was too late.

  He began talking.

  “I thought about keeping my silence. But if I did, I’d regret not giving you the option of deciding for yourself. Phoenix is an amazing horse. Aidan’s trained many talented horses in his career, but I can tell this one is special. Reminds me of Kincaid’s Crown.”

  Harper kept her voice cool. “Aidan got that horse to win the Irish Derby. He’ll do the same for Phoenix.”

  “Let’s hope he doesn’t use the same tactics.” Colin rubbed his head. Regret carved out his features. “I’m sorry, but you need to know. Aidan and I were business partners for many years. Not only partners, but close friends. Almost brothers. We trained horses together, built our business from the bricks up, and grew our reputation over time to be one of trust. Reputation in the horse business, you see, is everything, and ours was stellar.” He paused, as if caught up in the memories. “When we got the opportunity to train Kincaid’s Crown, we both decided he could be our turning point. I sensed something was off, but I never wanted to dig deeper. I was afraid of what I’d discover, but after he won the Derby, I couldn’t pretend any longer.” His blue eyes filled with sympathy. “Aidan was caught doping the horse in order to improve his performance. I found out he’d been doing it regularly.”

  She shook her head, not even allowing the unease to hit. “Aidan would never hurt a horse.”

  “Of course not! I’m not saying he did—he loves every horse he trains. But the need for a win became too strong for him. Kincaid’s Crown began slipping. Losing power. Lost a big stakes race. Aidan believed he was helping everyone by giving him the drug. When I confronted him, he defended his actions. Looked me dead in the eye and explained he’d kept the dose low. Low enough not to get detected. Low enough to enhance the horse’s natural talent, he said.”

  “This is impossible,” she said. “I don’t believe you.”

  Colin nodded. “I understand. I wouldn’t believe me, either. Aidan’s not only passionate, but charming, and focuses completely on the horse he picks. Did he tell you he had a gut instinct that shows him his next horse? That Phoenix picked him, and they were meant to train together?”

  He must’ve caught the surprise in her expression, because he nodded again.

  “He’s quite careful who he chooses. The horse has to own natural speed but also be adaptable to a drug that’s not easily detected. When I found out, I threatened to expose him and our business unless he stopped. We had a blowout—things were said that couldn’t be taken back—and I forced him to leave. I didn’t want Kincaid’s Crown to suffer for his actions. The owner agreed with me, and Aidan decided to head to the States.”

  “He’s not a cheater,” Harper clipped out. “Why are you telling me these lies? What do you get out of it?”

  “I’m very sorry I upset you.” He ducked his head. “I just don’t want the same thing to happen to you. Watch him, Ms. Bishop. In his mind, it’s not cheating or hurting the horse. It’s helping the horse be the best possible—a racing machine who will win at all costs. He will choose the win every time. Please don’t forget it.”

  He tipped his hat and disappeared into the swallow of the crowds.

  Harper tried to calm her wildly beating heart. Of course, she believed nothing the man said. Knew it was lies, because she knew Aidan O’Connor and the man he was. He’d never dope a horse or rely on drugs to win. That was obvious.

  The real problem Colin had hit on?

  Aidan’s voracious need to win.

  She’d spotted the gleam of hunger in his eyes when he watched Phoenix run. The almost-drunken sheen of greed as he stared at the winner’s circle. The thirst for the spotlight and flashing cameras and reporters screaming his name. The
stinging failure and anger directed at himself in Saratoga after their first loss.

  Aidan craved the win. It was as if his entire sense of worth was built around the horse’s success. How could a woman hope to compete?

  The man she’d fallen in love with had a need to win at all costs.

  Just like his ex-partner had stated.

  The flare of hurt bothered her the most. Just because they were sleeping together didn’t mean they were required to share their secrets. Yes, she’d told him about the bullying and her attempted suicide, but it’d been her choice. Aidan must not have wanted her to find out about the doping scandal, or the details of the breakup of their partnership. She remembered one conversation at the barn, when she’d asked what had sent him running from Ireland. His answer danced in her memory, and all the pieces clicked together.

  “Something did happen back home. I got my heart broken, so I came here to put myself back together again.”

  Rachael? Or his old partner? Why hadn’t he told her the truth? He’d looked her family in the eye when asked about the business he’d left behind and lied. Oh, not technically. He’d been clever to blur the line so he could claim he hadn’t lied. But it came out all the same, didn’t it?

  He’d covered up his past, lying by omission about an important part of his life that reflected his goals and priorities when training a horse. By refusing to trust her enough to listen and make her own judgments, he’d stripped the choice from her, leaving her ignorant and exposing Phoenix to someone who might not be who she would’ve chosen as his trainer if she’d had all the information up front.

  Anger stirred and simmered. The confrontation had tainted the glory of Phoenix’s win. She refused to let any further races happen until Aidan told her the truth. All of it. Then she’d make the decision that was right for both her and Phoenix.

  Swallowing past the lump in her throat, Harper squared her shoulders and headed toward the circle of reporters.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Who’s Rachael?”

  Aidan stilled. Pivoted on his heel and stared at Harper, who regarded him with a raised chin and cold eyes. Ice slithered down his spine, along with the sting of regret.