by Karis Walsh
Cal laughed. “I’ll tell you a secret. The three words that will win you that trophy.”
“If you say practice, practice, practice I’m hanging up on you.”
“Nope. I was going to say join my team .”
Merissa grinned. She felt some of the effects of last night uncoil inside her.
“Seriously, Merissa, are you surviving?” Cal asked. “Billie didn’t give any details—she’s the epitome of discretion—but she seemed worried about you. I didn’t want to call and bother you, but she said you might want to talk.”
“I do,” Merissa said. She settled back against her headboard. From the first moment they met, Billie had seemed to sense what Merissa was feeling and how best to help her. Of course she was the reason Merissa was getting a phone call she desperately needed. If Merissa wasn’t so relieved to have Cal on the line, she’d be infuriated that she’d been so transparent to Billie. Consistent with her oddly inconsistent and unfamiliar emotional swings, she even found her angry response to Billie arousing. She usually was proud of her even-tempered approach to life, especially after the depth of pain and emptiness she had sometimes felt as a child. Dennis’s murder had set off a chain of cascading moods in her, and Billie seemed to swing between calming them and making them fiery and pronounced.
Right now, Cal and polo and horses might be able to distract Merissa enough to shut off her mind and rest. “Nothing about last night or about the future of my career, please, but just talk. If you have a few minutes to spare, of course.”
“I have as much time as you need,” Cal assured her. “Especially if you’d care to discuss certain rumors about a certain someone who recently imported a fancy new polo pony from Argentina.”
“Are you digging for insider information to help your team beat mine?” Merissa asked. “Because I won’t say a single word about the gorgeous black mare currently trotting around my pasture.”
“Good. Then I won’t mention the fact that I desperately need a new horse for my string.”
Merissa heard a voice tinged with laughter in the background, telling Cal that she absolutely did not need another horse.
“That was Rachel,” Cal said to Merissa. “Love of my life and voice of reason. I listen to everything she says.” She dropped her voice to an exaggerated whisper. “I’ll pay you double what you paid for the mare.”
“I guess I’ll be staying on Rachel’s good side, then, because there’s no way she’s for sale.”
“Rats. Okay, wait. What?” Cal carried on a murmured conversation in the background. “That’s a great idea, Rach. I’m back, Merissa. Rachel says that since you are kindly refusing to support my horse buying addiction, she’d like you to come ride with the team tomorrow. It’s a training day, so we’ll be at the barn in Point Defiance. We can help take your mind off everything, for a couple hours at least.”
Merissa sighed. The thought of a fun day spent with horses and some nice people unrelated to Dennis and the firm was exactly what she needed. She wasn’t sure how she felt about seeing Billie again, but she was interested in seeing her ride. She would bet that Billie’s intuitive way of handling distraught murder victims was part of her nature, which meant she’d connect easily with horses. Prey animals and traumatized people required similar approaches, and Merissa felt a curious tingle in her stomach at the thought of watching the confident and caring Billie in her normal work mode.
“I’d love to come,” she said. The invitation settled her more than the shower had, and she was only able to talk to Cal for a few more minutes before her near-constant yawns ended their conversation. She turned off the ringer on her phone and slid out of her clothes again before falling into a deep sleep.
Chapter Seven
Billie got to the barn early, after missing her ride the day before because of Merissa, and she hooked Ranger to the crossties in the barn aisle. She took her time grooming the patient chestnut gelding, currying him gently to loosen the mud from his thick winter hair. He had the thin, sensitive skin of a Thoroughbred, but as long as she was careful with the grooming tools, he seemed to enjoy her attention as much as she loved lavishing it on him. She used a stiff-bristled brush to flick the mud off him, and then finished the job with a softer brush to bring a shine to his red-gold coat.
By the time the others began to arrive, she was cleaning his hooves with a metal pick, and she’d worked out most of the remaining tension from yesterday. She had worried about leaving Merissa alone, but once she’d discovered that Cal knew her and would call and check up on her, Billie had relaxed. Better to have Cal contact Merissa than Billie. She was attracted to Merissa on the surface, and she appreciated the intelligence and strength she’d noticed in her, but their relationship was a work-related one and didn’t need to seep into Billie’s personal life. Merissa was an idealist—and who could blame her, given the mansion in which she’d grown up? Billie was a realist. She’d lived in hellholes and through hell during her years in the army. Most of her childhood had been spent as an unwanted guest in other people’s homes. Opposites might attract, but they probably wouldn’t have much to talk about after the initial fireworks were over.
Billie went into the tack room and got her saddle. She seemed to be spending a lot of time and energy convincing herself that she was better off without Merissa. Last night, she had nearly handcuffed her wrist to the bed and thrown the key across the room to keep from driving back to Gig Harbor and knocking on Merissa’s door. The handcuffs might have come in handy then, too…
Billie forced her attention back to the task at hand. The police unit needed her to be fully present these days, since the new horses and riders joining the team meant every training session was mission critical. Everyone was here today except for Clark, who was away for an afternoon of departmental training. He’d been riding Legs lately since his horse Sitka had been injured the month before, pulling a suspensory ligament when he slipped while he was turned loose in the arena. All of them realized they or their horses could be injured in the line of duty, but the freak accident in the relatively safe confines of their stables had come as a surprise to the entire team. Clark would be rotating out of the mounted division at the end of their season anyway, when he would be promoted to sergeant, and he had bought the injured gelding from the woman who had leased him to the police department. After a few months of rest and rehab, Sitka would be sound enough for trails and light riding. Clark hadn’t been the most horse-oriented of the riders when the unit was formed, but each of them formed an undeniable bond with their equine partners.
The gray Thoroughbred Legs had been in the police string for two months now. Abby had ridden her at the Puyallup Fair, where she’d been well-behaved except for the minor issue of putting their lieutenant in the hospital with a fractured wrist. The team would bring on one rider for her, to replace Clark next spring, as well as expanding to include a fifth member. And after Sitka’s accident, Rachel and Abby had gotten permission to have a sixth horse trained and on standby in case another was injured.
Billie came out of the room with her bridle over one shoulder and her saddle balanced on her other arm. She saw Abby, Rachel, and Cal huddled in the parking lot, discussing something with large gestures and animated faces. Every once in a while, one of them would glance at Billie with a suspiciously conniving expression. Billie sighed as she smoothed the navy saddle blanket on Ranger’s back. She recognized plotters when she saw them. She had no clue what they were talking about, but whatever they had in mind, she wouldn’t go along without a fight. If they were up to something good, they’d come right out and talk to her without the obvious subterfuge.
Don led his pinto mare, Fancy, to the crossties near Ranger and started to groom the homely but impeccably behaved little horse. Billie had ridden her a few times since the mounted unit was formed almost a year ago, and she was sure she still had bruises on her ass from Fancy’s rough gaits. Don loved her, though, and the two of them had surprised everyone with their talent both in mounted polic
e work and search and rescue.
“I heard about your neighbor, Carlyle,” Don said. “They’re calling him a flight risk and holding him for twenty-four while they try to find some solid evidence against him. D’you know anything about that?”
Billie shook her head, checking to make sure the other riders were still in the parking lot. “I talked to him yesterday, after Merissa ID’d his car. He claimed he didn’t do anything, and I didn’t get the sense he was lying. His alibi won’t back him up even if he was telling me the truth about where he was the night before, though.”
Don stopped brushing Fancy and looked at her. Billie avoided his gaze because the more time they spent together, the more adept he was becoming at reading her.
“What aren’t you saying? What else did he tell you?”
Billie sighed. She’d been a private person since she was very young, and had grown more so after Mike’s death and her return from the Middle East. Being part of this mounted team had initially been appealing to her because of the horses, but she’d grown closer to the people in her unit as well. The connection to them, the way they really seemed to look at her and see her, was still foreign to her. She was uncomfortable with the sudden visibility, but part of her liked it.
“There’s this guy, Percy. Druggie. He borrowed the car for the night and said a buddy of his needed it. Carlyle told me Percy would probably stay away from his usual spots in case Carlyle sent the detectives after him, but he told me where he might be found on Ruston Way.”
“And you’re going to try to find him?”
“I promised Carlyle,” she said. Plus, she wanted to understand the reason behind this shooting. If Dennis had just driven into the middle of a messed-up drug deal, she would be sad about his fate but relieved to know Merissa was safe. If Dennis had somehow been targeted, Merissa might be in danger, too. The imperative to follow orders and respect the chain of command was strong in her—drilled into her by the army—but she was ready to launch a brief investigation into Percy’s whereabouts if it meant she’d have a chance to reassure herself about Merissa’s safety and to protect Carlyle if he was innocent.
“Fine. And I’m going with you.”
“No way, Don. I just want to talk to the guy, see if Carlyle’s story checks out and find out who Percy’s buddy is, if there even is one. In and out.” What she planned to do wasn’t technically against any rules since she had as much right as anyone to talk to someone on the streets of Tacoma. However, if the detectives found out she had withheld information by not giving them Carlyle’s name, and then had used that information to interrogate a possible murder suspect…well, she wasn’t dragging Don into this. She put her hands on her hips and stared him down, putting as much forceful determination as she could into her look. During her army days, she’d scared the secrets right out of tougher men than Don with the intimidating expression she’d perfected.
“Oh, Lieutenant Hargrove,” he called loudly, not breaking eye contact with Billie. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
He raised his eyebrows as their boss walked toward them. “Fine,” Billie whispered in a hiss. He was probably bluffing, but too much was on the line for her to take a chance. “You can come with me.”
“What’s up, Don?” Abby stopped next to him. Even in Billie’s slightly miffed state, she couldn’t help but recognize the changes Abby had gone through in the past two months since she’d met and fallen in love with Kira. Her thick auburn hair, usually bound in a tight chignon, was instead caught in a ponytail with a few loose strands waving along her cheekbones. Her face had softened, losing some of the taut determination she used to show, as if she was fighting a battle against the whole world and doing it alone. Now she smiled more easily and she often rode with her team when they trained, instead of bossing them around from the ground. Still, as different as Abby was from the woman they’d called Hard-Ass Hargrove, Billie didn’t want to be on her shit list and she was relieved when Don came up with a reason for calling her over that had nothing to do with Billie.
“Fancy needs a new bridle. The one she has is rubbing her cheekbones. Do we have money in the budget?”
“Sure, Don,” Abby said, with the same indulgent tone they all used when talking to Don about his beloved mare and something he’d decided she needed, like another piece of equipment or change in diet. “Just have Rachel put in a req form.”
“Will do,” he said with a wink in Billie’s direction. She gave him her best scowl, but he just laughed.
Billie led Ranger away from Don’s laughter and out to the practice arena. Cal had made an obstacle course for today’s session. Billie looked it over as she mounted Ranger and adjusted her stirrups. There was a tarp that had been cut into strips and hung so the horses had to walk through it, and a bridge that rested on a round pole so it would teeter back and forth as the horses walked over it. None of the obstacles would pose a problem for her and her experienced gelding.
Cal and Rachel came over and stopped her before she could walk into the arena. They were a striking couple, with Rachel’s dark and wild good looks and Cal’s golden hair and elegant bearing. “Change in plans,” Rachel said. “We want to work the new horses through the course, and each one will be paired with one of our seasoned mounts. Cal thought you’d do well with Juniper.”
“Oh, okay,” Billie said, sliding to the ground again. She was pleased to be put on the challenging young mare, but she had to force down her possessive desire to be the one to ride her own horse. “Who’ll ride Ranger?”
“Merissa. She sounded like she could use a distraction after what she’s been through, and she’ll have fun with this course. She’s a great rider, so don’t worry about how she’ll handle him.”
Merissa was coming today? Billie—usually calm and single-minded during training sessions—felt tension rise from her twisting stomach to her tight throat, and Ranger fidgeted in response. She didn’t want Merissa here, riding Ranger, but she wasn’t sure why. Was she jealous? Worried Merissa would be a better rider and outperform her on Ranger? No. Billie had no doubt Merissa was a high-class equestrian. She’d assumed as much after seeing her barn and before Cal had told her what an excellent polo player she was. And of course expensive trainers and lessons had been part of the massive equestrian complex her grandfather had built for her, while Billie’s own training was limited to therapy lessons for a year and the schooling she’d gotten from Cal and Rachel. But she didn’t mind having her riding compared side by side with Merissa’s. She had no illusions about her level of expertise and was always happy to learn from riders with more experience.
She knew the real reason behind the clenched fists holding Ranger’s reins. She wasn’t prepared to spend more time in Merissa’s company. The barn was her place of refuge. Merissa’s presence had brought a turmoil of conflicting emotions into Billie’s life yesterday, and Billie wasn’t sure she wanted those feelings to invade this healthy space. Merissa sparked passion in her—unexpected and overwhelming—both the passion of attraction to her and a passionate desire to argue against her and her plans to destroy Billie’s neighborhood.
“Well, I’ll get Juniper ready,” Billie said. She’d have to keep control of herself not only for her own well-being, but also for the young mare and for Merissa, who would be dealing with the fallout of her traumatic night with Dennis for a long time. They both needed Billie to be the calm one. “Can one of you hold Ranger until she gets here?”
Rachel reached for the reins, and Billie managed to loosen her grip and let Rachel take them. “Wait a sec, Billie. There’s more.” She exchanged a glance with Cal. “You know we were going to send the horses to Cal’s farm for a month of rest and then a month of training before we start patrolling again in the spring.”
Billie nodded. She loved riding on the trails and lovely polo fields at the farm. She’d been looking forward to the change of scenery for her benefit, as well as Ranger’s.
“We’ve decided to ask Merissa if she’ll take them instead
. Her barn is closer for most of the riders, and she’s got plenty of space for them.”
Billie snorted at the understatement. Merissa had plenty of space for the entire Royal Canadian Mounted Drill Team to perform on her front lawn alone. “Whatever you think is best for the horses,” she said. The commute would be easy for her and she wouldn’t mind a chance to get an up close and personal look at Merissa’s horses. She started to turn away when Cal put a hand on her arm.
“There’s more,” Cal repeated Rachel’s words. Billie rolled her eyes. The two of them communicated with looks alone, finished each other’s sentences, and now were echoing each other. The whole lovebird thing was cute to an extent. Right now, Billie was finding it annoying as hell since she seemed to be on the outside while they shared some secret that had something to do with her. “Spit it out in unison, you two. What’s going on?”
“We don’t talk in unison,” both Cal and Rachel said at the same time. Rachel blushed and gestured toward Cal, letting her share their news with Billie.
“We’d like you to be in charge of the horses while they’re at her farm,” Cal said. “They’ll need grooming and some light riding for the first month, and the newbies will need desensitizing work. Merissa and her grooms have their hands full with her polo string, but at the same time, we don’t want to have a bunch of riders descending on her property every day. You seem like the ideal choice.”
Rachel nodded. “You’re great with the nervous horses. And, well, with people, too. Merissa needs a friend right now, and someone who will be there while she processes what’s happened.”
“And she’s beautiful,” Cal added. “And single.”
“You weren’t supposed to say that part out loud,” Rachel said, playfully shoving at Cal.
Billie watched their impromptu wrestling match for a few seconds before she had to stop them. “Save it for tonight, when you’re alone,” she said. “Look, I’m flattered that you think I’d be good enough to be responsible for the horses, but I don’t think I’m the right one to help Merissa beyond what I did yesterday.” She struggled to find the right way to express what she was trying to say. Merissa wanted to tear down Billie’s home, her neighborhood. They didn’t seem to understand each other on a fundamental level. Too much contact on a daily basis with a trauma victim might be damaging to Billie’s soul. Too much Merissa might overwhelm her heart. “You’ve seen my apartment, and you’ve heard about her estate—”