Millions To Spare

by Barbara Dunlop

  She was in stark contrast to Brittany, whose blond hair was immaculate, and whose tiny, beaded evening bag matched her mint-green cocktail dress and the sheer scarf she’d draped across her shoulders. Brittany’s shoes were more stylish, as well. Julia sported lower heels with plain leather straps.

  It should have been no contest, but there was something in the animation of Julia’s expression that engaged Harrison.

  “Can I get a quote from you for the article?” she asked.

  He glanced at Brittany, feeling unaccountably guilty, even though he hadn’t done a thing wrong.

  “Perhaps I’ll sit down and have some tea.” Brittany pointed to a group of open-air tables nearby.

  “I won’t keep him long,” Julia promised.

  “You sure you don’t mind?” he asked Brittany.

  “It’s no trouble at all.” She turned away.

  Grateful that Brittany was so patient and even tempered, Harrison turned his attention to the interview. “Go ahead,” he told Julia.

  She raised her pen. “What did you think of the finish?”

  He drew a breath. “It was magnificent. Two up-and-coming stallions battling it out in the homestretch. It doesn’t get more exciting than that.”

  “Were you surprised to see Something to Talk About pull away?”

  “Something to Talk About is clearly a well-bred, well-trained and enthusiastic racer.” Then he leaned in. “Is that the kind of thing you need?”

  She grinned up at him, a glint in her eye that caused a hitch in his chest. It was an annoying and unwanted reaction.

  Then again, she was undeniably an attractive woman. And he was a healthy man. He’d get over it. He always did.

  “Could you work in something about respecting the Prestons?” she asked.

  “Write whatever you want. You can attribute it to me.”

  “Thanks.” She jotted down a couple more notes while his cell phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Harrison?”

  Harrison recognized the American voice, and touched Julia’s arm to get her attention. “Yes?”

  “This is Carter Phillips. I’ve just spoken with the lab tech in Switzerland. Millions to Spare is, was, a half brother to Leopold’s Legacy.”

  “Not a half brother to Picture of Perfection?”

  “Definitely not.”

  Harrison was not only surprised by the information, he was unnerved. This meant there was no way the mistake in Leopold’s Legacy’s breeding was accidental. And the death of Millions to Spare had to be related.

  It put the mystery in a whole new realm.

  “Whoever secretly sired Leopold’s Legacy also secretly sired your stallion,” said Carter. “DNA doesn’t lie.”

  He was right about that. Which left a million unanswered questions.

  “Can we keep this under wraps?” asked Harrison, as Julia’s expression grew curious.

  “Absolutely,” said Carter Phillips. “We’ll continue our research at this end.”

  “And I’ll investigate the poisoning before the trail gets cold.”

  “Thanks,” said Carter.

  “Thank you,” said Harrison, ending the call.

  “What is it?” Julia hissed.

  “They’re half brothers,” he told her.

  “Millions to Spare and Picture of Perfection?”

  “Millions to Spare and Leopold’s Legacy.”

  Julia’s eyes widened. “How can that be?”

  “I have no idea.”

  Chapter Six

  Julia had to practically run to catch up to Harrison as he crossed the winner’s circle. Her mind was scrambling over the DNA revelation. They had a serious clue here. And she might have a very serious story.

  Harrison smiled broadly and held out his hand to Robbie. “Congratulations to Quest Stables.”

  “Thank you,” Robbie responded, and Melanie waved to them from atop the horse.

  Harrison casually reeled Robbie in, his tone going lower, but Julia could still make out the words. “I don’t mean to sound all cloak-and-dagger,” he said, “but keep smiling and pretend I’m congratulating you.”

  Robbie smiled, and Julia smiled along with them.

  “Millions to Spare and Leopold’s Legacy have the same sire. I don’t know who’s watching us together, so I’m going to back off now and walk away. You call Carter Phillips for the details.”

  Robbie nodded, clapping a hand on Harrison’s shoulder. “Thank you very much,” he said, sincerity in his eyes.

  Harrison gave a sharp nod and turned away.

  Julia quickly fell into step beside him.

  “That goes for you, too,” he growled down at her. “You need to stay away from me and go back to America.”

  “I can help you investigate.”

  He gave a snort of disbelief. “You couldn’t get a DNA swab without getting thrown in jail.”

  While that might be true, she had a right to this story. She wanted to help the Prestons. She wanted to expose Millions to Spare’s killer. “I’ll stay out of your way,” she promised.

  “That seems unlikely.”

  “I want the story, Harrison.”

  He stopped. “Julia, somebody out there was willing to kill my horse over all of this.”

  “Maybe I can figure out who?”

  “Go back to America.”

  “But-”

  “Seriously, Julia. Go home. I’ll call you right away if we find anything.” Then he stepped back. “Goodbye.”

  A look passed between them, and she could have sworn it was longing. But he quickly turned away.

  And then he was gone, and Melanie was beside her.

  “How bizarre is that?” asked Melanie.

  “Pretty bizarre,” said Julia.

  Harrison sat down next to Brittany, and Julia found she couldn’t watch them together.

  She forced herself to concentrate on the crowds and the horses and jubilant shouts instead. She nudged Melanie in the shoulder. “You won.”

  Melanie beamed. “I did.”

  Juggling her bag, her pen and her notebook out of the way, Julia pulled Melanie in for a hug. “You actually won. It was fabulous. And Harrison gave me a quote. And I’m going to file this article. If we’re lucky, some of the daily newspapers will pick it up.”

  The smile faded from Melanie’s face. “What do you think is going on? How did a horse end up dead?”

  Julia shook her head. “I have no idea. But I’m going to stay behind and find out.”

  Melanie’s expression registered surprise. “You’re staying in Dubai?”

  “I am. The clues are here.”

  Harrison might object, but it wasn’t Harrison’s decision to make.

  Melanie hesitated. “Are you sure it’s safe?”

  “The only person causing me any grief was Harrison. I think he’s over that now.”

  Melanie gave a slow, considered nod. “Then keep the hotel room. Quest will pay.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Robbie and I have to travel with Something to Talk About. You’ll be helping the family out by staying here.”

  “I’m also doing it for the story.” Julia wanted to be honest.

  “I know you are.” Melanie squeezed Julia’s shoulders. “You deserve the story. Now, I have to head for the barns. The last thing we want to do is mess with Something to Talk About’s schedule.”

  “He was a good boy today,” said Julia.

  “He was a very good boy. My brother is over the moon.”

  The following evening, it was easy for Harrison to see that Brittany was the consummate hostess.

  It was four o’clock, and a few of the out-of-town guests were arriving early to the party. She cheerfully and easily greeted princes, generals and captains of industry. She laughed and chatted in several languages, introducing one guest to the other while keeping half an eye on the servers to make sure none of the guests were neglected.

  Alex appeared at Harrison’s e
lbow. “The pipeline meeting is set for five o’clock.”

  “Good.” Harrison kept his eyes on Brittany.

  Alex was silent for a moment.

  “So she’s the one?” he asked.

  “She’s the one,” Harrison confirmed, more convinced than ever.

  “Hmm.” There was something in Alex’s tone.

  “What?”

  “I’m not so sure.”

  “What’s not to be sure? She’s perfect.”

  “You think?”

  Now what the hell did that mean?

  Alex reacted to Harrison’s astonishment. “There seems to be an edge to her.”

  “An edge? To Brittany?”

  “Sarcasm, hostility.”

  Harrison snorted in disbelief. “What have you been drinking? Look at her.”

  “She does present well,” said Alex.

  “I do believe you’re jealous.”

  “Not.”

  “Come to think of it, get your leering eyes off my future fiancée.”

  “Believe me, Harrison. I haven’t the slightest attraction to your future fiancée.”

  “Now I know you’re lying. Check out her eyes, her hair. Or look at those legs-long, toned, straight.”

  “Are you talking about a wife or a broodmare?”

  With a start, Harrison realized he had been thinking of her perfection as a mother, rather than imagining those straight legs wrapped around him.

  It had to be his innate respect for her. That was the only explanation.

  Then his mind involuntarily flashed to Julia. Seeing her in that bathing suit that left so little to the imagination, he could easily picture her legs wrapped around his waist. And when he conjured up that particular image, he didn’t feel respectful at all. He felt…

  “Let’s get a drink,” he said to Alex.

  Sitting in the back of a taxi as it pulled up to the Jumeirah Beach Hotel, Julia caught sight of Pamjeet the doorman trotting up to meet them.

  There was something lurking in his dark eyes, and a funny feeling tripped along her spine.

  They’d barely stopped, when he opened the back door, blocking her way out, leaning in to talk to her.

  “You must not come in to the hotel,” he said in an earnest low tone, close to her ear.

  “What-”

  “Go now. The police were here.”

  Everything inside Julia stilled as her memory flashed to the dismal jail conditions.

  “What do I-”

  “Do you have your passport?” He kept his voice low so the driver wouldn’t overhear.

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “The airport,” he called to the driver, drawing back.

  “Now?” Julia’s frightened eyes met Pamjeet’s.

  He gave her a nod and slammed the door, turning back to his duties as if nothing untoward had happened.

  The taxi pulled into traffic and sped toward the airport in the waning daylight.

  Julia tried to wrap her head around what she’d just heard. The police were looking for her? Harrison’s bribe must not have worked as well as he’d thought.

  She strained to see out the back window, checking for signs of pursuit. There was nothing but regular downtown traffic-sedans, delivery trucks and the occasional limousine.

  Her luggage was still in the hotel room. She couldn’t really afford to replace all those clothes, not to mention her small jewelry collection. Still, anything was better than going back to jail.

  She watched the skyscrapers whiz by as the driver expertly navigated his way through intersections and traffic circles on the way to the airport. She’d switched her plane ticket to the middle of next week. Would they let her change back? Would they have any available seats?

  She could get on the first plane to anywhere, she supposed. What did it matter which route she took home? And what did it matter how long it took her to pay off the credit-card bill? The only thing that mattered was that she get out of the country.

  After long, tense minutes in traffic, she breathed a sigh of relief as the planes and lighted hangars of the airport came into view next to the wide, divided highway. They were almost there.

  “What time is your flight, ma’am?” came the driver’s voice.

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure.”

  He nodded. “There seems to be a traffic delay. I hope it will not inconvenience you.”

  She shifted to the middle of the backseat, sitting straight to look out the windshield at the main terminal building. So close, yet so far away.

  “Can you tell what it is?”

  He nodded to the road ahead. “A roadblock.”

  “An accident?”

  “I don’t believe so, ma’am. It’s a checkpoint. The police.”

  “Is this common?”

  “Not common.”

  Uh-oh. “What are they checking for?”

  “I do not know.”

  It couldn’t be.

  But her pulse started to pound in agitation.

  She was running from the police, and they had a roadblock at the airport? Coincidence?

  She tried to calm herself down. There was no way they’d call out the SWAT team for attempted horse theft. The mere thought was ridiculous. She was letting herself get freaked out over nothing.

  She forced herself to sit back, swiping the beads of sweat from her forehead.

  They’d be through the roadblock in a few minutes. She’d buy a ticket to, well, anywhere. And she’d be on her way out of UAE.

  “Do you have your passport, ma’am?”

  “Why?”

  “The police will require identification.”

  Julia’s heartbeat thickened. She inhaled, and she could swear she smelled the stale, gray dress from the prison. She saw the wriggling centipede, felt the sharp pressure on her bladder.

  “Turn around,” she said to the driver.

  “Pardon me, ma’am?”

  “I…” She pretended to paw through her purse. “I forgot something. I need to go back.”

  “To the hotel.”

  “No! Not the hotel.” Think, think, think. Would the embassy help her? Could they help her? She didn’t dare risk it. “To Cadair Racing. It’s north, on Route Eleven. Past Ajman.”

  “As you wish, ma’am.”

  The driver signaled and painstakingly moved one lane to the right. But there he was trapped by a panel truck.

  Julia trained her eyes on the road ahead, praying for some kind of exit.

  There it was.

  The driver jockeyed back and forth, trying to get around the truck in the snail-paced traffic.

  She glanced at the flashing lights on the looming roadblock. She clenched her jaw, clenched her fists, willed a spot to open up in the right-hand lane.

  Her driver signaled, and inched, and honked and nudged.

  When he successfully switched to the exit lane, she could have shouted for joy.

  Brittany was in her element.

  She’d always known this was the life she wanted-interesting conversation, gracious service, elegant surroundings and breathtaking fashions from around the world. Helping her parents with parties had always been fun, but it was nothing compared to the rush of being the hostess herself.

  She caught Harrison’s smile from across the room, and she could tell she was making him proud. She asked Ambassador Beauregard a question about his family, grateful yet again that her parents had sent her to school in France for two years. One of the Saudi princes came toward them, and Brittany drew him into conversation, introducing him to the ambassador and mentioning their mutual interest in impressionist painters.

  Then she politely excused herself, having spotted the wife of a German diplomat standing alone near the terrace door.

  “Very polished,” came a deep voice beside her.

  She glanced behind her and came face-to-face with Alex Lindley. “Thank you.”

  “I’m not sure it was a compliment.”

  She wasn’t going to let him mess wit
h what was a near-perfect evening. “I’m going to take it as one anyway.” She kept walking.

  “Want me to crack the facade?”

  No chance of that. “You disappeared for a while.”

  He smiled, voice laced with self-satisfaction. “You noticed?”

  “No. I noticed that Harrison disappeared. You were more of a…” She timed a significant pause. “A byproduct.”

  “That is a crack in that facade,” he said.

  “Not at all. You don’t count since you’re not a guest. Something I can help you with?”

  “You know that Harrison thinks you’re perfect?”

  Brittany didn’t answer. There was really no need. She and Harrison enjoyed a great deal of mutual respect. It was why their relationship was going to work.

  “So are you in love with him?”

  She stopped, and drew an exasperated sigh. “You weren’t brought up around nice people, were you?”

  “I spent many of my formative years with the U.S. navy.”

  “That explains a lot.”

  “Where you probably went to the finest schools money could buy.”

  “Some of them,” she acknowledged.

  “So what’s your excuse?”

  “I need no excuse. I’m not being rude.”

  “Oh, yes, you are.”

  No. She wasn’t. She was simply responding in kind to his provocation.

  “Mr. Lindley,” she told him. “You can expect to get out of a social interaction that which you put in.”

  “You’re turning me on.”

  Brittany’s jaw dropped open. She was honestly speechless. Did Harrison have any idea what kind of a boor he had employed?

  “I’m just saying,” Alex continued smoothly, leaning slightly forward, his eyes dancing with obvious delight, “if I’m getting out of this conversation what I’m putting in…”

  Then, Harrison caught her eye.

  He was heading toward them, looking none too happy.

  “I believe your comeuppance is on its way,” she informed Alex.

  “We’ve got a problem,” Harrison said to Alex.

  They certainly did.

  “What do you need?” asked Alex, his demeanor instantly changing.

  “Julia’s at the front gate.”

  That caught Brittany’s attention.