She removed a pointed stick from a toddler’s pudgy fingers and replaced it with a plastic scoop borrowed from the feed room. They desperately needed more toys. Barn utensils were only a temporary solution, and every day more children appeared, shyly clinging to their caregivers’ hands and then embracing the sand pit.
Perhaps if Tizzy finished in the money, she and Rick could drive down the road and find a cheap store. Most backstretch workers were limited, not only with funds and time, but also with transportation. If she could visit a mall, she could pick up some shovels and buckets, real children’s toys, instead of the bulky barn equipment.
And now that she was at a small track, away from Victoria and her stifling rules, she could bring Joey for a visit. Maybe he could even come after his weekend stay with Megan and Scott. Then it would only be nine days she wouldn’t see him instead of fourteen. It would be wonderful to have him close by while she worked, to be able to see him from the moment he woke.
She could introduce him to all the animals, help him build a sand castle, and even put him to bed every night. Best of all, she could let him sit on Tizzy’s back and share the joy of just how wonderful it was to ride a horse.
Certainly some details needed to be ironed out, like finding a good babysitter. But if Megan and Scott came to watch Stinger race on Sunday, they could drop off Joey then.
She pulled in an excited breath, flushed with gratitude. This could all work out beautifully. She also needed to thank Scott in person, for renting the RV and especially for sending Rick. There hadn’t been any more theft since he’d arrived. Victoria had pulled back her horns.
Rick was exactly what the barn needed. What she needed.
Her heart beat a little faster and she glanced toward the tinted windows of the RV. He was so thoughtful, making coffee for the women and having Miguel help bring over ice water for the children. But then he’d disappeared, joking that the men had to rest up: Miguel for his massage of Tizzy, and him for the caps tournament.
But it was almost three o’clock and while she’d seen Miguel head back to the dorms, she hadn’t seen Rick again, not since he’d carried over the last pitcher of ice water.
She walked toward the RV, automatically smoothing back her hair. The door opened as if he’d been waiting for her. He carried work gloves and wire, and a tool belt hung around his lean hips. The heavy belt tightened his shirt, flattening it against his ridged chest, and the impulse to touch him was overwhelming.
She stuck her hands in her pockets. “Moonlighting somewhere?” she teased.
“Going to plug those holes in the fence,” he said, not cracking a smile. “Just a stopgap until security brings in their regular contractor.”
“I see,” she said, a little disconcerted by his flat tone. But maybe he’d learned something this morning. He’d been lingering by the little tack trailer the entire time she was riding. “Did Woody say anything today?” she asked. “About Victoria?”
“He doesn’t think she has many friends here,” Rick said. “Apparently she wasn’t well liked. Mostly he talked about carbing it up for tonight.”
The little boy that was teething let out a cry and Rick’s gaze shot over her head. He seemed aloof. Like a man who’d picked up a woman the night before and now regretted it. But he’d been fine this morning, even grabbing a kiss when they’d been alone on the horse path.
She stepped back, confusion mingling with her hurt.
“Come with me,” he said, his voice almost rough. “To the hill.”
“Sure,” she said, relieved he wanted her company. “I’ve never walked beyond the trees. Do you think someone’s sneaking in from outside?”
“Not sure.” He took her hand and tugged her toward the east side of the woods, skirting the picnic tables. “But if the gaps are fixed, there’ll only be two ways to reach the barn, the horse path and the road. So I don’t want to wait for the contractor to fix it.”
She gave a good-natured shrug. Theft wasn’t a big concern anymore. No one would be foolish enough to sneak into a barn with an RV parked by the door, manned by someone as imposing as Rick. And while they were at the tournament tonight, Miguel would be giving Tizzy a massage. The horses would never be alone.
She waved at the women. But they didn’t even notice her departure. They were clustered around Ashley’s blond hair, their conversation a mixture of Spanish and English, punctuated with giggles and bawdy massage jokes. The posters would be funny, if nothing else. Hopefully the flyers wouldn’t be too suggestive, or security might order that they be removed. Although Ashley, who was so tight with the guards, could probably hang anything she wanted.
“They’re adding massage to the hair business,” Eve said, trying to keep up to Rick’s long strides. “Should be a good side business. Maybe in a few months it will develop into something more. Juanita’s cousin is amazing. Did you notice the haircut on the boy in the striped shirt—”
“The first hole is just over there,” Rick said, holding back a branch so it wouldn’t poke her in the face. “I’m not sure what’s on the other side, but there’s definitely a path. Looks like it was well used at some point.”
He was clearly focused on more important things than haircuts, and she glanced past him, searching for the hole. The break at the bottom of the fence didn’t look new. In fact, the steel mesh was curled with age, leaving a two-foot gap. Beyond, a narrow footpath cut through the field and disappeared over the hill.
“You think someone comes this way?” she asked. “Looking to steal tack?”
“Maybe.” Rick bent and tested the wire. “It’s loose. Anyone could fit through here.”
“I wonder where it goes,” she said, intrigued by the path leading over the ridge.
“Let’s find out.” He unbuckled his tool belt, dropped it on the ground and held up the mesh. “After you.”
“Okay,” she said gaily. “Maybe we’ll find my bridles. Or a cache of saddles.”
She slipped beneath the fence, then stopped and held up the bottom of the mesh, waiting for him to edge beneath the wire. Her gaze kept shooting toward the mystery hill, her imagination racing.
Maybe they’d find more than tack. Possibly even a stolen horse. Or maybe it would lead to a ring of thieves who collected Thoroughbreds capable of winning stakes races, or Kentucky Derbies, or even the Triple Crown. She’d read every Dick Francis mystery, and things like that always happened in England. It could happen here.
“Maybe we should have weapons,” she said. “Maybe take a wrench or something. Or I can use that pointed rock over there—”
“Maybe,” he said, rising and pulling her into his arms, “you should just stick close.”
He tucked her head against his chest, and she could feel the thud of his heart, and it was clear that whatever had been distracting him earlier was no longer a factor. He certainly didn’t feel like a man who wished he hadn’t made love to a woman. No doubt she’d let Ashley’s comments stir up her uncertainty, something she wouldn’t let happen again. Mind games didn’t interest her. And she sensed Rick wasn’t into them much either.
“I don’t mind sticking close,” she whispered. “For as long as you’re around.”
His arms tightened. He seemed to have forgotten all about climbing the hill and checking for thieves. “Maybe when this meet is over,” he said, inching back and studying her face, “I could ask Scott for work closer to Santa Anita.”
She gave a little nod, too stunned to speak. She’d feared he regretted sleeping with her. But now he was talking about moving so they’d be closer. This relationship might last a lot longer than she’d dared to hope.
She nodded again, much more emphatically. “That would be great.” Then she tilted her head, her initial happiness dampened with worry. “But do you need to stay somewhere small? Should we avoid the city? Is there a gang looking for you?”
“No.” His chuckle was slightly rueful. “But I appreciate your courage. And that it wouldn’t scare you away.”
> “So you were just in a riding club?” she asked. “Nothing illegal…lately?” She didn’t want to ask details about his prison sentence. Would save that question for another time.
He skimmed her cheek with his thumb, his eyes tender. “I worked different types of undercover. But it’s been almost two years since I rode with a motorcycle club. I came here directly from a job with Scott, tying up some loose ends. Some of that work was south of the border, a cartel case. It’s over now.”
“But when did you do the biker job? You only worked with Scott for a year. And you don’t have a full PI license.”
He hesitated and his tanned throat rippled. “I was with LAPD for nine years.” He spoke so low she could barely hear. “Gang and Narcotics for three.”
She blinked. He wasn’t a biker at all, but a cop. It was amazing she hadn’t picked that up. Generally she had a radar for police, and it usually sent her bolting in the opposite direction. But Rick didn’t walk or talk or think like a cop.
“But you have prison tattoos,” she said slowly. And then she groaned. “Now I understand. You don’t have a record at all. The tattoos are just for show.”
She must have sounded disappointed, because his voice strengthened with amusement. “Sorry,” he said. “No record.”
A squirrel scolded from a nearby tree, but their eyes remained locked, neither of them speaking while she struggled with the implications. He was a cop. She was sleeping with a cop. She rolled that thought around for a moment, trying to absorb it, wondering if her lip was curling with distaste.
“I never thought I’d hook up with a cop,” she finally said.
“Ex.” His eyes twinkled.
“I suppose that’s okay then. At least it was undercover, no uniform.” Her eyes narrowed. “You didn’t wear a uniform, did you?”
“Well, yes, I did.” He chuckled. “But only for the first two years. Sorry, sweetheart.”
“At least you don’t wear a uniform now,” she said, trying not to smile, but it was hard not to feel happy when he called her sweetheart. It didn’t sound like a casual term of endearment either, but something he sincerely meant.
Besides, he’d probably been a good policeman. That was definitely a safer job than working undercover and dealing with the constant fear of having your throat slit. Her heart kicked with empathy.
“It must have been terrifying living with criminals,” she said. “Wondering if this is the day you might get caught. Worrying that someone you know could say hello. And accidentally give you away.”
“I was pretty deep,” he said. “Didn’t run into many acquaintances.”
“So you lived with outlaws. Laughed and talked and made friends.” A lump clogged the back of her throat. “And then you had to turn them in. That must have been hard.”
“It wasn’t too bad. Most of them were murderers.” He shrugged, but she could feel the muscles cording in his arms.
“But not all of them,” she said. “And I know that must have hurt a kind person like you.”
He stared down at her, and for a moment he let her see everything in those dark eyes. The regret, the anguish. The way a muscle spasmed on the corner of his jaw. “It did,” he admitted.
He looked away, abruptly engrossed with the scolding squirrel. Then he pressed her head against his shirt, his fingers splaying beneath her hair, and it was clear the talking was over.
Her heart ached for his obvious ambivalence, but it was significant he’d even confided about his work. And for now, that was enough.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Rick turned at the crest of the hill and studied the scene below—the barn, the RV, Eve’s car. If he had his binoculars, he’d probably be able to spot the orange cat sunning itself beside the barn.
“What a great view,” Eve said. “You can see everything from here… Her voice trailed off and it was clear her quick mind understood the implications. “So that’s how they always knew when we were gone,” she added glumly.
He gave her slim hip a comforting squeeze and checked the other side of the hill. It was a beautiful property and clearly had once been a well-loved farm. A driveway led to a sturdy farmhouse with a sweeping verandah, then curved down the hill to a dirt road. Obviously the track had leased the barn but didn’t want the house, and had separated them with a chain link fence.
But someone had visited recently. The long browning grass was flattened by tire tracks. The vehicle had parked below the crest of the hill, above the farmhouse but out of sight for anyone in Eve’s barn.
He studied the squashed grass. Not wide enough for a tractor or farm vehicle. And there were several larger areas where the vehicle had parked, and then turned. Something glinted in the sun. He bent and pulled a bottle cap from the tangle of grass.
“Someone was cocky enough to enjoy a beer while they were watching you,” he said, studying the cap. “A Corona. Probably not teenagers. They’re more inclined to toss the bottles. Let’s see if we can find anything else.”
He tucked her arm beneath his and they walked along the grass, checking the ridge. Insects droned and butterflies fluttered, but there was no other sign of people. Whoever had parked here had been very careful, which was puzzling in itself.
If Victoria had begged or bribed an acquaintance to cause trouble, he would have expected a more rushed job, something they did when they weren’t working at the track. Yet the person, or people here, had been very patient. And judging from the grass, they’d been here many times.
“I hope they wasted three weeks of their life sitting here,” Eve said. She wrinkled her nose like she did when she was disgusted, but it was clear she was a little spooked.
“No one’s been in the barn since I arrived,” he said, cupping her arm a little tighter. “So it’s more of a nuisance than anything else.”
But even as he rushed to reassure her, something didn’t sit right. It felt like he was missing a link. Maybe he wouldn’t fix the hole in the fence. That way he could sneak up the hill and catch the creep.
He didn’t want her worrying. She had enough problems dealing with the horses and her wimpy boss. Scott had already warned it was critical that Eve’s horses run well this weekend.
“Is Tizzy ready to race?” he asked, steering her away from the bruised grass. “It looked like he galloped well today.”
She gave a grateful nod, as if aware he was changing the subject but happy to do so. She’d sent Tizzy for gate training, and everyone had been all smiles afterwards. It was interesting that she thought the horse would try harder with a female jockey, but it made sense. If he were a horse, he’d prefer a woman rider too.
“Miguel’s our secret weapon,” Eve said. “He’s going to rub Tizzy tonight. We’ve tried different masseuses and chiropractors, but it’s Miguel who always gets results. His massage might add an inch to Tizzy’s stride. And if that happens…” She shrugged but her face glowed with anticipation.
“I’m surprised your boss doesn’t hold Miguel in higher esteem.”
“Jackson won’t admit it,” she said. “He prefers to think it’s his training that makes a difference. But I ride in the morning, and it’s always apparent when Miguel has been rubbing a horse. He’s too arthritic to give many massages and he’s busy with all his other duties. But Dex and Dani—Tizzy’s owners, they think Miguel makes a difference too.” Her eyes sparkled. “It’s going to be a great race. Especially if you win the tournament tonight and Tizzy gets to wear a normal bridle.”
“Then let’s hope Tizzy and I both win.” He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, amused his worries now revolved around massages and tossing a beer cap. And he was happy about that. Life at the track was utterly absorbing, leaving no time to brood about past mistakes. His head was too crammed with horses.
Or maybe it was filled with the woman by his side. Now that he’d told her about his work, he felt lighter, as if he finally had the chance to start fresh. He hadn’t been truly open with anybody since leaving the Police Academy.
“Getting hungry?” he asked, swinging Eve around and nuzzling her neck. “Let’s go back and order supper. Woody recommended pizza, but warned me not to eat or drink anything after five.”
She laughed, fitting into his chest as if she’d been built for him. “Woody’s sure serious about winning. There’ll be a lot of teams though. You’ll have to keep your eye out for someone who drinks Corona and knows Victoria.”
“I’ll be keeping my eye out for a lot of things,” he said, “but I do plan on winning you that gift certificate.”
“Good. And I’ll cheer you on. But shouldn’t we check the farmhouse first? Just in case my tack’s there?”
He could already see the house was deserted. The grass around the building was undisturbed, the doors and windows boarded and dust covered the steps. But if she wanted to explore around the house, then he was all for it. In fact, he was all for anything that made her happy.
“Sure.” He obligingly veered to the left. “Seems like the house is still solid. Even the roof looks good. That verandah could hold a lot of people.”
“It’s a beautiful property but my favorite part is the field.” She blew out a wistful sigh. “Joey would love it here. We don’t have a yard where we live.”
His chest tightened. What the hell? A boyfriend? But he kept his voice level, his eyes studiously fixed on the house. “Who’s Joey?”
He felt her look at him, felt her pretty smile, but he just stared at the house, feeling like somewhere an axe was flying through the air, heading toward his back.
“Joey’s my son.”
“Oh,” he said, staring at the house like a roofer counting nails. But his mouth turned bone dry and the front of his head began to throb, and he couldn’t manage another word.
Backstretch Baby Page 14