“One more picture,” Jessica said.
She hid her disappointment as a crude horse emerged. The picture wasn’t detailed enough to identify the animal. In fact, it was hardly recognizable as a horse with an ugly head, knobby knees and a big hump. “Oh, it’s a camel,” she said. “Someone said the man was from the Middle East. Obviously this kid is too.”
They both stared at the boy.
“Definitely not many camels around here,” Maria finally said. “Better give him the cookie.”
The boy snuggled into Maria’s lap and stuffed the cookie into his mouth. He definitely liked Maria. Of course, if he was from the Middle East, her coloring would be more familiar. That had to be the reason, Jessica decided with a pang.
She flipped through Mark’s magazines, searching for an old article, then dropped the page on the floor in front of the boy. His eyes widened, and he shrank against Maria’s chest.
“What did you show him?” Maria snapped as she stroked the boy’s head with a protective hand. Jessica passed her the picture—a line of colorful camels with tiny figures crouched on their backs, surging through the desert sand. “I read about this last month,” she said. “Camel racing is popular in the Emirates, where they use little boys as jockeys. Some of the bigger tracks switched to robots, but apparently kids are still recruited.”
“What do you mean, recruited?” Maria puffed like a mother hen and tightened her arms around the boy, making soothing noises deep in her throat.
“Sold, kidnapped or otherwise persuaded,” Jessica said dryly. “Unless you think maybe he’s the sheikh’s son and got mixed up with his horses.”
They both looked at the boy’s dirty face.
“He doesn’t look much like royalty,” Maria said.
Jessica flipped through another issue of Thoroughbred Times and found a picture of a sheikh in traditional dress. “Here’s something. See what he does when he sees that.” She passed over the magazine. The kid had really attached himself to Maria, she noted with another twinge. Young as he was, he must have sensed Jessica could barely look after herself. She brushed away her sense of loss and focused on his reaction.
He glanced at the sheikh but nothing. Not a flicker of recognition.
“I don’t think we should tell anyone. Not yet.” Maria shoved a strand of lank hair off his forehead. “I could keep him in my apartment for a while. Clean him up, feed him. Teach him some English.”
Jessica sighed. “We have to tell Mark. He’ll be furious if we don’t. He thinks the boy can help find the guy who stabbed Dick.”
“But how can he do that?” Maria asked. “He doesn’t speak English. Or Spanish. He’s just a little boy who’ll be lost in the system. I already know it doesn’t work well for this type of kid.” Her voice heated. “They might send him back to race camels.”
Jessica’s head hurt, and she rubbed the throbbing ache in her temple.
“There’s a guy from Pakistan who does acupuncture for horses, barn eighty-nine.” Maria’s voice turned persuasive. “I’ll get him to talk to the kid. And you’d be helping Mark too. He doesn’t have time for all this extra stuff. But we gotta figure out his name.” She turned to the boy and thumped her chest. “Maria.” Then pointed at Jessica and said her name. After a few repetitions, she pointed to the boy.
“Abdul,” he said.
“Abdul? That’s your name?” Maria grinned. “He’s so smart,” she said over her shoulder to Jessica. “Come on. This isn’t like you. You’re usually the last one to worry about rules.”
Jessica’s head pounded with increased pain, and she tugged on her lower lip. “That was before I saw Mark mad,” she said.
***
Mark’s first set of horses filed from the barn with exercise riders up, most led by their grooms. Predawn was his preferred hour. The track was smoothly harrowed. It was too dark to worry about reporters and what they would or wouldn’t write, and the horses looked elegant, almost mysterious. It seemed he gained a better sense of them, that he was more attuned to their feel rather than relying on sight alone.
Buddy definitely felt good and gave an exuberant buck as soon as he exited the shedrow.
“Jessica!” he called. “Lead Buddy today.”
She appeared with a lead line, said something to Slim that made the rider laugh, and slipped on the line. Buddy lowered his head in cooperation. Probably the horse had bucked so Jessica would walk beside him. Slim had also brightened. The jaunty exercise rider was always happiest when a pretty girl was around.
Mark stopped Ghost by Dino. “From now until Breeders Cup, make sure all grooms lead the horses to the gap. No exceptions. There’s too much traffic, too much excitement, even for horses like Buddy.”
Dino nodded, and Mark turned Ghost and led the line of horses to the gap. He watched as they broke off, following his instructions. The little chestnut filly moved into a jog; she was excitable and needed to get right to work. The seasoned bay mare was to walk half a mile then jog. Two-minute lick for her today.
He softened as he looked at Assets. The colt gleamed under the track lights and exuded vitality. Too bad the race wasn’t today. He nodded at Steve, confirming a four-furlong work, and turned to check Buddy.
Slim puffed out his chest as he rode Buddy past a rapt brunette who watched from the rail. “I braided him just for you, babe,” he called, and the girl giggled as Slim and Buddy strutted past.
“Four furlongs, but keep him contained,” Mark said to Slim. “He’s in a claimer in three days.”
“Sure thing, boss.” He cast a backward glance at the girl by the rail, looked at Mark and lowered his voice. “Gotta tell you, Buddy is a my pickup horse. Chicks love his braids.”
“That’s not how you felt last month,” Mark said, adjusting his stopwatch.
“I’m not afraid to admit when I’m wrong.” Slim gave the brunette a cocky wink before moving Buddy into a lively trot.
Mark stiffened as his last horse, a chestnut colt, jogged off, lame in the right hind. He pushed Ghost into a lope and caught the rider. “Damn, Tommy, can’t you feel that?” he said to the bleary-eyed man. “Horse only has three wheels. Take him back to the barn. Don’t ride him back either.” His scowl deepened when he caught a whiff of Tommy’s potent breath. He reached down and grabbed the colt’s reins. “Thought you stopped drinking,” he snapped.
“Wife left me, boss. Couldn’t take the gambling.”
“Go to the chaplaincy and get some help,” Mark said. “We’ll find someone to fill in.”
Tommy nodded, shoulders slumped with despair.
Mark led the horse back to the gap and handed him over to the waiting groom. His gaze drifted to Jessica who stood at the rail on the right side of the gap. She gave a guilty start and averted her head, and he automatically glanced up the track to check Buddy. Horse was moving fine, gaudy purple braids glinting under the light, and Slim showing off for all the women. Situation normal.
But Jessica rarely displayed guilt, so there had to be something major.
Ghost felt his tension and started to prance; his irritation mushroomed. He slapped the horse on the neck then immediately regretted it. “Sorry, fellow,” he said, and let the horse lope on the outside rail to the finish line, trying to compensate for his impatience. Ghost always loved an excuse to stretch out.
“Morning, Mark. Who you working today?” one of the clockers called.
“Ambling Assets is going four furlongs. So is My Best Buddy.”
“That’s Sheikh Khalif’s horse coming now,” a man behind him said.
Mark edged Ghost closer to the watchers on the outside rail. A big bay thundered down the stretch. Nice, even stride. Switched leads when asked. Carried his head low. Blinkers. Rundown bandages. Galloped out impressively.
“That’s your main competition in the Juvenile, Mark. What do you think?”
“Wasn’t really watching,” he said without turning around. He sat on Ghost, keeping his face impassive as he waited for his horse.
“Is this Assets’ last work before the race?” the same voice asked.
Mark saw his colt break away at the quarter pole and was preoccupied with his stopwatch.
Assets was a smooth blur as he covered the ground. Steve sat chilly, not asking for more but not holding him back either, exactly as Mark had instructed. So far, so good. Assets seemed to be moving slower than the sheikh’s horse but definitely effortlessly.
“Wow,” someone said.
Mark pressed his watch as Assets blazed across the finish line. A shade over forty-six seconds. Perfect. He softened with relief. Ghost lowered his head and rested a hind leg, ever in tune to his rider’s mood, and Mark scratched his shoulder while he waited for Buddy. Didn’t bother with his stopwatch. He’d leave this one to the track clockers. Besides, it was just a freshener. He’d told Slim to keep Buddy under wraps; didn’t want the old gelding going into a claiming race with too impressive a work.
A dark shape sizzled down the track, and Ghost’s ears pricked as though aware it was one of his barn mates. Purple sparkled under the main lights. Was Jessica using fluorescent colors now?
“Is that a Breeders’ Cup horse?” someone asked.
Dammit. Slow him down, Slim, Mark willed.
Slim’s arms and legs were braced as Buddy blasted across the finish line. Mark swore under his breath, turned Ghost and galloped after him. Slim stood in the stirrups, wrestling with Buddy, trying to slow him to a canter.
Mark charged up beside him. “What the hell were you thinking?” Mark yelled as he snagged the horse.
“Horse got away from me, boss. Ducked his head, pretending he was scared of some pigeons, grabbed some rein and bolted.”
“Christ, Slim. You’re riding like shit. This is the easiest horse in the barn.”
“Used to be easy,” Slim said, unabashed. “He’s a tiger now.”
“A very old tiger,” Mark said, hearing Buddy’s labored breathing. “Make sure you dismount by the gap and grab his front leg. Look upset. Get the groom to look after him, and everyone will notice.”
Slim nodded and pasted on a bleak look but wrecked the impression by singing the words to “Pickup Truck” as he diligently scanned the rail for pretty girls. Mark shook his head but waited until the old mare finished before heading back to the gap to meet his second set.
And there they came. He always felt a stir of pride when his horses walked onto the track, wearing saddle pads in his distinguished brown colors. Every groom now led a horse; Dino had passed the word quickly. Jessica accompanied her new mare, My Silent Miss, but her face was strained and her eyes—
Damn. Something was wrong. Maybe she thought Buddy was really hurt. He trotted Ghost to the gap, called out his directions, then wheeled to the side and dismounted. “Can you help me over here, Jessica?” he asked, hooking his stirrup over the horn.
Her cheeks glistened with tear tracks, but she hurried over to help.
“Buddy’s in a claiming race in two days,” he whispered, hating to see her upset. “He’s not really hurt. Whatever Slim did or said was for show.”
Another huge tear rolled from the corner of her eye.
“Aw shit, Jess, I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted Slim to pretend Buddy was hurt. Look,” he added, “I heard you and Maria were planning to bus it to the hospital. Once the office work is cleared up, I can drive you two over.”
She nodded with obvious appreciation, but he wanted more than gratitude. At least she had Buddy’s purchase money now. He needed her with him because she wanted to be—not because of a horse, a job or an old boyfriend.
She was definitely more complicated then he preferred. Before, if a woman had a snit, he didn’t stop to analyze. Just labeled her as difficult and moved on. But Jessica was like a promising green filly that was worth some extra effort.
A lot of extra effort, he thought wryly.
“It’ll be great to see Dick,” she said, “now that he’s finally allowed visitors.” But another plump tear rolled down her cheek, and something twisted in his gut.
“Then stop crying. Please.” He yanked his cinch tighter, needing something to occupy his hands, anything to keep him from touching her. There was no way he could console her here, not at the gap, not where everyone watched.
He stepped back on Ghost, feeling off balance and frustrated. “Please don’t cry,” he repeated, leaning over his horse’s shoulder, conscious of the curious press but reluctant to leave. “I gotta go, but you’re killing me here.”
She gave a watery smile. “Don’t be silly. I’m just happy.”
Silly? Hardly the trainer’s image he wished to portray. But he lingered, ignoring the clicking cameras, and even reached down and grazed his thumb over her cheeks before riding away.
***
“Just a sec, Dino,” Mark paused by the barn door and glanced at Jessica. “Did you ice Buddy where everyone could see?”
“Twenty minutes,” she said, “plus Doc stopped to talk so his truck was outside for a while.”
Mark nodded and turned back to Dino. “So Assets worked in forty-six and change and they got Buddy going almost as fast? Dammit.”
“No one’s going to claim an old gelding like Buddy,” Dino said with a grin. “Especially one with obvious leg problems.”
“Just the same, bump him up to eighteen thousand. Be the fourth race on the card.”
“Tough competition, though,” Dino said. “And you always run to win. He won’t have a chance in that company. It’ll screw up our win percentage.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Mark scowled. “Emma Rae is riding. She’ll take care of him. I just want the horse to go out sound. Understand?”
“Oh, I understand. I definitely understand.” Dino’s gaze shot to Jessica, and he clutched at his heart.
Mark scowled and wheeled away from Dino’s smirk. Stomped into his office and checked his messages. Nothing from the police. Obviously Bruce hadn’t seen the picture yet. His cop friend has been impossible to reach lately. He sent another message: ‘pls check pic asap. 2 more bc seats.’
He called Sophie and Devin. It was a relief when they didn’t answer, and he left a message that Buddy would run on Friday. Dino had pinned up a note that the starter wanted extra gate work on the Storm Cat filly, and the race stewards insisted on a meeting tomorrow at eleven. He called the chaplain to see if his exercise rider had dropped by for a chat. Breathed easier when he was told Tommy had registered in the addictions program. Dutch’s horse was arriving on Sunday and was allergic to straw, and the Breeders’ Cup committee wanted him to host a fan fest breakfast on Wednesday.
Damn, maybe he shouldn’t have told the girls he’d drive them to the hospital. It would take hours, since traffic always snarled in that area. He dropped his head in his hands and blew out a sigh. Heard the light footsteps.
“Anything I can do to help?” Jessica asked quietly.
“Sex would make me feel better,” he said. Her laugh energized him, but he didn’t know why she thought it was a joke. “A lot of stuff piled up while we were in Kentucky,” he added, “and Dino deserves an afternoon off. You and Maria need to give me another hour.”
“Maria can’t come.” Jessica turned her back and studied a picture on the wall. “She’s busy with an acupuncturist from Pakistan.”
“That reminds me,” he said, not really listening as he scrawled another note, “I need to double the chiro sessions on the chestnut in stall six.”
“I can help with some of this. If I can’t handle it, I’ll write it up. Especially the Breeders’ Cup stuff. That makes so much extra work.”
“Yeah. A shame we’re in it.” He regretted his comment as soon as the words slipped out, as though somehow it might draw bad luck.
But she knew when to ignore him and merely slapped a coffee in his hand, slid a mound of paper to her side of the desk, and he was finally able to make the calls he’d postponed.
At some point she confiscated his phone and arranged for deluxe bales of dust-free shavin
gs for Dutch’s sprinter. She was good at detail stuff and excellent with people on the phone. Much better than him. He wandered over to the cot and stretched out, feeling pretty good now that the office work was getting done. Dino would be impressed.
It was also relaxing hearing her confident voice in the background. The only time she hesitated was when Cathy called, wanting to know when he’d have an available stall for TV Trooper.
“I’ll call her in a few days,” he mouthed, then listened while Jessica distracted Cathy by talking about the excitement of owning Thoroughbreds. He didn’t know what qualified Jessica as an expert, but she was a damn good talker.
It probably wasn’t good policy to have an old and new girlfriend getting chummy, but he shut his eyes and fell asleep.
***
“Your snoring is interfering with my phone calls,” Jessica whispered in his ear, prodding him awake.
“I know a way to stop it.” He tugged her on top of him. She was still talking, and he took advantage of it, slipping his tongue in and exploring her sweet mouth. “Tastes like you found my private peppermints,” he said, keeping his eyes shut, too content to risk opening them.
“Feels like you found something private too.” Her voice was husky. She didn’t make any effort to pull away; this was the way he enjoyed her best, all sweet and soft and cuddly. No prickly moods.
“Think you’re safe here, don’t you?” he said, moving his thumb to her nipple.
“I’ve heard about your no sex rule,” she said, “from many sources.”
“True. So there’s no need to move.” He slipped his hand under her shirt, loving the feel of her smooth skin, the curve of her hip, the way she smelled. She had sensitive breasts, and he knew what she liked. A perfect time to extract some answers.
“What was wrong yesterday? In the hotel?” he asked as her nipple pebbled beneath his fingers.
She wiggled in reaction, almost kneeing him in the groin and he rolled sideways, clamping her against him.
She pushed against his chest, but he had her pinned, and she knew it. “First you wouldn’t give me a job.” Her voice was so low he had to strain to hear. “Then you paid me off with Buddy’s money. It…hurts that you don’t want me.”
Racetrack Romance BOX SET (Books 1-3) Page 60