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.
“Was anything in the pockets?” he asked.
“A couple of nails,” she said. “Six pennies.”
“So he knocks on your door? Asks for food? How does it work?” He pinned her with his hard-eyed stare.
“It was just one night,” she said quickly. “And he followed me home. I don’t think he’ll come on his own.” Her arms tightened around Kato. “So there’s really no sense in hanging around trying to catch him.”
“But we already know you lie, don’t we, Jessica.”
The bite in his voice made her flinch, but it was also rather annoying. “I didn’t lie.” Her voice rose. “I just didn’t tell you.”
“You certainly lied about buying tampons.” He tossed the jeans back on the bike. “It’s clear you expect the boy to come back. It’s also clear you didn’t intend to tell me.”
She kneeled down and released Kato, not wanting to look at Mark’s hard face. The chill radiating from him was daunting, and she could understand now why people scuttled away when he was in a foul mood.
“Turn out the light,” he said. “Let’s see if he shows.”
“Fine.” She rose, assuming her most aggrieved voice. “But I’m just going to put the cheese outside the door so if he does come and is hungry—”
“Get in the damn bed. Don’t say another word.” He shackled her arm, not rough but certainly not gentle, and this implacable side of him was so startling, she stopped talking and slid beneath the blanket.
The lights flicked out. The cot sagged as he lay down beside her.
“There’s not enough room for you.”
“Shut up.” His hard hand covered her mouth.
No one had ever told her to shut up before, except in the most playful of ways, and she didn’t like it. She tried to bite but his hand was way too big, blocking her nose, and she bucked in panic when she couldn’t breathe.
He loosened his hand but when she tried to complain, clamped it back over her mouth. She lay still, afraid she wouldn’t be able to get any air, not even speaking when his hand finally relaxed. His body was taut and wary as he listened for sounds in the aisle. She tried to assure him the boy wouldn’t come, but his hand flattened over her face again, and he didn’t seem at all concerned that she wasn’t able to breathe.
The thought of being smothered in her own bedroom pissed her off, but she didn’t speak again. Only concentrated on sucking in enough air.
It really wasn’t that uncomfortable, the two of them crammed on the cot. His arms were around her, holding her, but his chest was warm. And if she was silent, the big hand over her mouth loosened. She knew the kid wouldn’t come. He’d probably bolted the track, but she regretted he wouldn’t get the cheese and crackers. Or the new clothes, especially the jeans with the fancy zipper pockets. She figured he’d really like those.
And she regretted Dick was stabbed. She really regretted that. Oh, God, please make him okay. Anguish banded her chest. She should have told Mark about the boy. Should have kept Dick safe. Shouldn’t have been so selfish.
The stabbing was her fault—the admission sent warm tears trickling down her cheeks. She didn’t often pray, but she knew it was the man at the paddock, knew deep in her gut it was the same man with the knife who’d stabbed Dick. For some reason he’d followed her, and Dick’s concern for her safety had resulted in the brutal attack.
Her eyes tickled, and she sniffed. She tried to wipe her face, but he only adjusted his hand over her mouth even as his gentle thumb wiped away her flooding tears.
Chapter Eighteen
Jessica woke with an ache in her neck and the nagging feeling something bad had happened. A horse kicked the wall, someone yelled a greeting and memories flooded.
She jerked up, sensing Mark was gone and the room empty. Turned the light on and checked her clock. Four twenty-five a.m. She didn’t know when Mark had left, but if the boy had visited, she was certain she wouldn’t have slept through the ruckus.
She stumbled to the bathroom, pulled her hair in a ponytail, grimaced at the puffy eyes staring back from the cracked mirror. It looked like she’d cried all night. Maybe she had. She hoped Mark’s shirt was soaked. He’d almost suffocated her with his misguided attempt to quiet her and catch the boy.
Chewing on her indignation, she rushed back to the barn but shot a wary look at his office as she slipped past, hoping he wouldn’t notice the time.
This probably wasn’t a good day to be late.
***
Mark turned Ghost toward the gap. His first set already milled on the track, and his fatigue evaporated as he admired Assets. The mist lent all the horses an air of mystery, but it was clear from the colt’s coiled silhouette that he was feeling particularly good.
The railbirds noticed it too. “That horse is the favorite for the Juvenile,” a man in a baseball hat said.
“Looks good in the dark,” someone else muttered. “Wish Russell would bring him out later so we could see him.”
Mark trotted up beside Jonas, Assets’ regular exercise rider. “Remember, easy gallop. Keep him contained. We’re going to jog two laps again this afternoon on the training track.”
“Sure, boss. He’s feeling stronger since you started the extra jogging, and he’s definitely more relaxed. Man, I ain’t never been so impressed with a two-year-old.”
Mark nodded, but Jonas’ opinion gave his confidence a further boost. Jonas had galloped the Derby winner last year and knew the feel of a good horse. Every one of the colt’s connections, from the hot walker to the groom and exercise rider, were working together to prime Assets for the ultimate goal.
Even Steve had shown up to jockey him in his works, the fast gallops necessary to keep a horse conditioned and on the muscle. Now Mark wanted to teach the colt to relax. His main concern was that Assets didn’t always settle when pinned on the rail. A big field and a bad post would leave him vulnerable.
Still, the colt’s race last month had been a breakthrough. Not only had he rated from an inside position, he’d dug in bravely when asked and beaten the sheikh’s horse by four lengths.
“Slow gallop today,” Mark called out, switching his attention to the other horses as Buddy trotted past. The gelding looked jaunty with his typical turnout of braids. Mark was still uncomfortable with the flamboyance, but as long as it kept Jessica and the horse happy, he’d decided to ignore it. And the color did deflect media attention from Assets. Buddy was much more accepting of the spotlight than the young colt. In fact, the old horse relish
ed it.
As did Jessica.
He kept his gaze pinned on the horses but was acutely aware she stood by the gap, watching Buddy. Goddammit, he’d been mad last night. A kid who someone was trying to kill—a kid mixed up in God knows what—and she’d virtually adopted him. Most people would have been spooked after an encounter with a knife-wielding assailant, but she didn’t seem to consider the danger.
The quicker that kid was caught, the faster police would track down the mystery man, and everyone would be safer. Manuel had also been a little tense, not happy that a stabbing had occurred in his backyard. A Middle Eastern man, they’d said. And he really didn’t have time to worry about this. He had horses to train.
Shaking his head, he straightened his thoughts and swung Ghost to the outside, where Carlos hunched over the rail, trying to hide from two reporters and their huffing camera man. Breeders’ Cup buzz had truly started, and soon there’d be no escape for his horses or beleaguered staff. Most of them, like Carlos and Maria, hated dealing with the media.
Mark leaned down over Ghost’s muscled shoulder. “Pretend you don’t speak English, Carlos,” he said. “I’ll ask Jessica to help.”
Carlos nodded, and a relieved smile cracked his face.
Mark wheeled and stopped Ghost by Jessica. “Can you distract those reporters so Carlos can get Assets back to the barn?”
She nodded and instantly headed toward the reporters. Smart, competent, savvy. He liked how she could argue over the most trivial things but knew when time was critical. And then simply buckled down and did her job.
And did it well. As Assets walked toward the gap, Jessica flashed an animated smile at the reporters and gestured up the track. Probably spreading outrageous lies about Buddy. Whatever she said definitely drew their attention, or perhaps they were smitten by her looks. The photographer almost tripped in his haste to snap her picture.
Mark scowled as he trotted past the idiot photographer, not sure why he was so grumpy. Probably just tired. It had been a sleepless night waiting for the boy to come, holding Jessica while she cried. She felt responsible for Dick although she’d never admit it. Would never admit she was worried about the kid, the clothes or even the stupid cheese.
And Belmont was a big place. Maybe the kid couldn’t find the barn again. Maybe he had to see Jessica, and then he’d pop out from his hiding place. Probably be a good idea to send her on some errands later this morning, use her to flush out the kid. The security guards had been alerted; it shouldn’t be difficult to catch one little boy.
Carlos stepped up and slipped on Assets’ lead, smiling now that he’d escaped the media rush. Mark shot a last scowl at the men still clumped around Jessica. He’d asked her to distract them, but they didn’t have to fawn like she was some kind of princess. Christ, she wasn’t even holding a horse.
He blew out a disbelieving sigh and mechanically continued his training routine.
***
“Egg McMuffins! You’re a hero.” Maria wrapped her arms around Dino in an exuberant hug. “Come late and bring breakfast every morning.”
“Aw, shucks. It was nothing.” Dino adjusted his cowboy hat then hugged Jessica and two more hot walkers, taking his time with each embrace. “And now, ladies,” he gave his irreverent but handsome grin, “I gotta admit Mark told me to bring the food. He also told me to come late since I’ve been covering for him more than usual.”
He glanced at Jessica. “Maybe you owe me another hug, sweetheart?”
“Maybe you should get over to the track with the last set,” Mark said as he stuck his head in the door. “And Jessica, once you finish eating, run to the kitchen and bring back three coffees. Check with Tina first. See how she takes it.”
Dino gave Jessica an unrepentant wink, turned and followed Mark.
“Anyone know who Tina is?” Jessica asked as she unwrapped her Egg McMuffin. Just the smell made her mouth water. She squeezed her eyes shut and took a big bite. It was delicious. They must have changed the recipe. She couldn’t remember them ever tasting this good.
“Tina’s a reporter, the one doing the article for The New York Times.” Maria spoke between mouthfuls. “They were here last month taking pictures.”
“I thought Mark wasn’t letting the press in the barns,” Jessica said, remembering how he’d asked her to distract the media earlier. He’d also asked her to run an irritating number of errands, sending her traipsing all over the backside, picking up a halter from barn thirty-three, some special vitamins from a guy way over in barn sixty-eight, a ring bit from a lady in barn twenty-four, and now coffee from the kitchen. Usually he was satisfied with the coffee in his office, but obviously he was trying to punish her for last night.
She popped the last of her Egg McMuffin in her mouth, pocketed another for lunch and wished she had her bike fixed. If she had her bike, the old blisters on her heels wouldn’t have rubbed raw.
“Might as well take another one for supper, kid,” Maria said. “They’re good cold. And by the time you walk over to the kitchen and back, there won’t be any left.”
One of the hot walkers murmured in agreement and tossed Jessica another Egg McMuffin. She caught it and headed off to fetch the mysterious Tina a coffee.
***
“So, Mark, it’s incredible you’re cruising into your first Breeders’ Cup with the overwhelming favorite.” The reporter accompanied her question with such a fawning smile, it made Jessica cringe. “How does it feel knowing your horse is expected to beat the sheikh’s runner, an animal that was purchased for three million dollars at the Keeneland sale?”
“Assets has to show up and run his race,” Mark said, “but he’s training well. I wouldn’t trade places with anyone.”
Tina flipped off her recorder, still showing two rows of pearly white teeth. “Thanks so much. I’ve got enough material now. We’ll take a few more pictures, and hopefully you’ll have time to join me for lunch. Just a couple more questions…”
Blah, blah, blah. Jessica sat cross-legged on the grass listening to the lengthy interview, waiting for a chance to deliver the coffee. Tina was pretty and hadn’t stopped smiling, but her interest in horses seemed artificial. Clearly she was only after the human interest angle, with a specific interest in Mark.
Jessica sighed and took another sip of Mark’s coffee, surprised to see it was almost empty. She hadn’t intended to drink it all, had trudged back from the kitchen with three cups just as Mark had directed, but by that time the interview was in full swing. Rather than let the coffee chill, she’d pulled out an Egg McMuffin, sipped on the coffee and enjoyed a rare and relaxing picnic.
She tilted her face, enjoying the autumn sun. It had been a good morning despite the rocky start. Buddy and Missy had galloped perfectly, and, best of all, Dick was going to recover. He’d be allowed visitors by week’s end, so she and Maria were already checking bus routes to the hospital.
Deep in her reverie, she didn’t realize Mark was calling until he gave a rude whistle. She stuffed the empty food wrapping in her pocket, rose and picked up the cardboard coffee tray.
“Two cream for you,” she said to Tina. “Black for you.” She smiled at the camera man. He hadn’t been a bit condescending—unlike Tina who hadn’t even thanked her for making the trek to the kitchen.
“This is yours, boss. Sorry, it spilled.” She handed over the depleted cup but couldn’t meet his eyes, slightly intimidated by the memory of that relentless hand. Still with two media people around, she figured she was pretty safe.
“Get me another,” he said.
Resentment flattened her mouth. Errand running wasn’t exactly part of a groom’s job and while she wanted to be agreeable, there was a limit to anyone’s tolerance. Plus, her boot blisters still hurt from all the earlier walking.
“Get me another too. Mine is cold.” Tina’s lips curved in an aggrieved pout that magically disappeared when she turned to Mark. “Let’s do some shots in your office and a final one with that gray horse, the one yo
u and Dino roped on at Congress. If you wear your jacket pictured in my earlier feature, we can tie it in with career highlights.”
Oh, shit. Jessica shoved her hands in her pocket and turned toward the kitchen, forgetting the painful blisters on her heels. “I’ll get that coffee now,” she said brightly, eager to be somewhere else when Mark stared hollering about his missing jacket.
When Jessica walked into the track kitchen, Maria and her friends were crammed in a large corner booth.
“Come sign Dick’s card,” Maria called as she waved a crude cutout of a horse. “And help us with the poem. We need a line that ends with throat.”
Jessica winced. Dick had thirty-nine stitches. His carotid artery had been nicked, but a neighbor’s quick response had saved his life. It was temporarily diverting trying to think of words that rhymed with Prada and Gucci but when the women switched to Spanish, she gave up and left.
Besides, Tina was no doubt thirsty.
She trudged back to Mark’s office lugging the fresh coffee, including a third one for the nice camera man. Should be perfect timing. They’d almost finished so it would be quiet for her afternoon nap—one she definitely needed since Mark had kept her up almost all night, stubbornly waiting for the kid, although it was obvious he wasn’t going to show.
She stepped into the office and placed the coffee tray on the corner table. “Saddle up Ghost and bring him out, Jessica,” Mark said, his gaze not leaving Tina’s face.
“But he’s lying down,” she said in dismay.
“Then you’ll have to brush him first, won’t you.” Mark spoke as if she were a five-year-old. “And make sure the silver is spotless. Use metal cleaner.”
Heat burned her cheeks as she turned away from the camera man’s sympathetic smile, away from Tina’s giggle. She limped into the barn, past the day security guard and into Ghost’s stall.
Racetrack Romance BOX SET (Books 1-3) Page 53