by Karis Walsh
Merissa raised her eyebrows in surprise, and Billie saw hurt and shock in her expression. “Thanks for the riding lesson, but I do just fine when I play polo. I’m new to this team, so maybe I don’t appear to belong with them as easily as Cal does. You might have more experience with your police horses than I do, but I’ve been playing this sport since I was a child. If I want advice on improving my game, I’ll hire a professional.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Merissa rode Aggie into the arena for the next chukker without gloves and with a tight hold on the reins. The gelding shook his head in frustration as she sent him down the field after Cal and the polo ball without loosening her grip.
“Sorry, boy,” she whispered, getting control of herself and softening the reins so he had more freedom to move. Damn Billie, getting her upset right before she had to ride. What did she know anyway? How many polo matches had she been in during her short riding career?
Merissa galloped aimlessly up and down the field for a few more minutes, following the ball in play but not actually doing much to help either her teammates or herself make a goal. Billie’s advice slowly seeped into her brain, and Aggie’s fast canter soothed her agitated thoughts. She missed an easy pass from Cal and mouthed yet another apology as the tumbling mass of players and horses rushed past her.
If she were to be completely honest, she’d always been envious of the way Cal’s team seemed to click intuitively with one another. Her own team, while each player was excellent in her own right, had never been able to find the same rhythm she witnessed when watching Cal and her group ride. Merissa had blamed their personalities and their lack of time to spend hours practicing together and becoming friends off the field, but maybe she just hadn’t tried hard enough.
Merissa swung her mallet and blocked an opponent’s shot, but the impact made her jolt in the saddle. She’d never be this stiff in the practice ring, but she usually felt a little less secure in the saddle when she rode in a match. Performance anxiety, she had told herself. Everyone was a little less flexible and relaxed when they’re competing.
Billie had seen the difference in her match riding as something abnormal, though. Merissa glanced over at her as she and Aggie careened by. Billie’s hands were clasped between her knees, and there was clearly tension in her shoulders and posture. Merissa had no doubt Billie would never tell her something about her riding out of spite or meanness. Merissa returned her focus to the game playing out around her. She hadn’t contributed much this chukker, but instead of rushing into the fray and trying to make up for lost time, she remained a little on the outskirts of play, observing the others.
Cal was obviously the leader, in her spot as number 1. She called out encouragement and advice, and she was always on hand to block an opponent or pass the ball to a free player. She had made two of the team’s four goals so far, but that was because she was a better shot than the others and made more of her attempts than they did and not because she monopolized the play. Amy and Laura were less experienced, but they were constantly watching out for each other and for Merissa and Cal, too.
As Merissa watched them connect on the field, she realized that more than half of their play was devoted to assisting another player. She shook her head as the bell rang and the scoreless chukker ended. Her own style of play was much different—when she wasn’t controlling or chasing the ball herself, she tended to fade into the background. She had always thought it was because she didn’t want to interfere with other players, but maybe she was trying to protect herself from being interfered with .
She slid off Aggie’s back and handed his reins to Billie, who wordlessly gave her Mariposa’s in return. Merissa only had a few seconds to apologize, so she started talking right away.
“I’m not a team player,” she said. “That sucks, and it was hard to hear. But I shouldn’t have gotten angry with you because you told me the truth. I’m sorry, Billie.”
Billie gave Merissa’s shoulder a squeeze. Even the brief contact reached Merissa deep inside. Billie’s words made sense to her now, but she learned more about connecting to someone through Billie’s touch than anything she might say. Billie’s hand on her shoulder held residual memories of Billie catching her when she fell out of Dennis’s window, comforting her the morning after his shooting, sliding down her belly in the dark night…Sex and saving and sharing. Becoming a team of two.
“You’re used to taking care of yourself,” Billie continued, letting go of Merissa and straightening the cheek piece of Mariposa’s bridle. “Whether you’re on horseback or not. It’s great to be strong and independent, but sometimes it’s better to need other people. To rely on a team.”
“Yeah, you’re one to talk,” Merissa said with a grin as Billie lifted her onto Mariposa’s back. Billie was right about her, and not just when it came to polo—even when she had tried to learn more about Dennis’s killer, she had felt an undeniable urge to make her own decisions and go off in secret. Trusting someone else to have her back wasn’t natural for her. Her grandfather had taught her not to trust anyone, and her parents hadn’t been there for her when she needed them to fight for her. She had confidence in her horses and in Jean-Yves, but no one else. Until Billie.
Billie kept her hand on Merissa’s thigh after she was in the saddle. “I agree. I have a hard time trusting other people and believing they’ll be around when I need them. But I’m learning. With my unit and my friends. With you.”
“Maybe change is possible,” Merissa said with a hopeful lift of her shoulder. She covered Billie’s hand where it lay against her leg and pressed it tightly against her thigh, feeling her flooding response to Billie’s touch. Even when her mind was reflecting and spinning with information, her body’s connection to Billie managed to override everything else. Instead of fighting against it, she let her body absorb Billie’s strength and let her sizzling nerve endings energize her. “I’ll give it a try.”
“You’re a beautiful rider on your own, and you’re on a stunning horse. With Cal and her team on your side, you’ll be unbeatable.”
Merissa grinned. “You are the best groom ever,” she said as she leaned down and kissed Billie on the mouth. She meant to give her a quick thank you—to be continued later, of course—but she lingered for a moment, gliding her tongue along the corner of Billie’s mouth. She sat straight in the saddle again, pleased to see the flush on Billie’s cheeks and neck before she turned away and rode back onto the field for the fifth period.
“Bodyguard,” Billie called after her in a husky voice. Merissa’s smile widened but she didn’t turn around.
With Billie’s compliments ringing in her mind, Merissa attacked the fifth chukker with the intention of being part of the team, not necessarily winning or scoring any goals. Mariposa was a dream to ride, never shying away from close contact or rough play and faster than most of the other horses. Merissa found herself in control of the ball early in the chukker, and instead of following her own path toward the goal, she veered toward Laura and let her clear the way for Merissa to score the tying goal. In the final seconds, Cal got the ball but was heavily guarded as she galloped to the goal line. Merissa and Mariposa squeezed between the line of the ball and the defending player, neatly pushing her off course and out of Cal’s way.
“Excellent job,” Cal said as they rode off the field together when the bell rang. “You finally rode well enough to deserve that amazing horse of yours.”
She smiled in a teasing way as she spoke, but Merissa knew the words were true. She hopped off the mare and was rewarded with a kiss on the mouth from Billie.
“Amazing,” Billie said. “You made everyone on the team better because you were there. I’m proud of you.”
Merissa was speechless as she got on her dark gray mare for the final chukker. Cal’s words had meant a lot to her, and she had certainly heard enough praise about her riding to last a lifetime from instructors and trainers who were always hoping to please the daughter of a multimillionaire, but Billie’s
simple statements were heartfelt and deeply meaningful.
“You make me better because you’re here,” she said, meeting Billie’s eyes and hoping Billie could see how seriously she meant those words. They stood close for a moment, not needing touch to feel connected, before Merissa turned Misty toward the field.
The mare was her most experienced horse, although not her most spectacular. She’d never be as agile and fast as Mariposa, but she knew the game inside and out, and she gave Merissa every opportunity to try out her new team player philosophy. No one scored in the final chukker—giving Cal’s team the victory by a narrow margin—but Merissa had more fun playing polo than she had since college.
The newfound camaraderie lasted as they brought their horses back to the barn and got ready to leave. She and her regular team usually packed quickly and in silence before heading back to their busy lives, but today she enjoyed lingering with Billie, Rachel, and Cal. Especially Billie. She was hoping to have a few moments alone with her to properly thank her for the kick in the breeches, and when she saw Billie walk Misty around the corner of the barn and toward the van, she grabbed Mariposa’s lead rope and hurried after her. Rachel and Cal were in the next stall, playfully arguing about a trip to South America, as Merissa left.
She got to the van, but Billie was nowhere in sight. Merissa led Mariposa up the ramp. She’d tie the mare in her stall and then search for Billie. She had only taken a few steps toward the back of the trailer when the door slammed behind her, most likely blown shut by the increasing wind. She turned around and pushed on the door, needing the light from outside to help her secure Mariposa properly, but it was locked.
“Very funny, Cal,” she called, assuming she was the prankster. She jiggled the door again, but instead of hearing Cal’s laughter and the rasp of the metal opening up again, she heard the ramp slam against the back of the trailer and the bolt lock into place.
Merissa ran to the side window, pulling Mariposa after her, and tried to see who was outside the trailer. She slammed her fists against the sidewall and screamed for Billie, for Rachel or Cal, for anyone to help her. The van’s engine started with a loud roar, and Merissa was thrown to the floor as it jolted forward. One of her friends might teasingly lock her inside for a brief time, but they would never take a joke so far and endanger her or her horse.
Mariposa whinnied and danced across the floor, her metal shoes thudding on the rubber mat dangerously close to Merissa’s head. She grabbed the loose lead rope and got to her feet again, bracing herself with legs far apart as the van took a steep turn and drove off the farm’s property.
The van accelerated quickly once it came to the paved road, and Mariposa shied again, throwing Merissa against a steel partition. She grunted in pain and staggered back a few steps to stay out of the frightened mare’s way. Her stomach turned as shadows of fir trees flashed past the windows at what felt like dizzying speed.
The mare called out again, and Merissa coaxed her slowly toward the front of the van where she managed to enclose her in one of the stalls. As soon as she was confined in the familiar space, Mariposa settled down. Merissa’s stomach wasn’t nearly as cooperative, and she fought off waves of nausea as she tried to imagine how to escape. She groped along the wall again, searching for handholds to help her remain steady, and came to one of the windows. She might be able to squeeze through it if the van slowed enough, but the latches were on the outside of the trailer to keep the horses from accidentally opening them. Aluminum bars covered them as well, meant to keep the animals from dangling their heads outside where they could get hurt. The back door was out of the question, and the tack room was only accessible from outside the van.
Merissa slowly sank to the floor and wrapped her arms around her bent knees. She’d just made steps to trust other people to help her today, and now she was all alone. She hadn’t been trying to go off on her own when everyone was working hard to protect her. She had just wanted to follow Billie. She rested her forehead on her knees and gulped for breath. All she got was a lungful of diesel fumes. She choked back a sob. She was helpless and alone. Too sick to think clearly. At the mercy of whoever was driving the van.
Mariposa stomped her foot, and Merissa lifted her head. Was she really alone? She had her horse here, an animal that was relying on her for protection and safety. She had Cal in her mind telling her to get her head out of her ass and do something. Most of all, she had Billie inside, pleading with her to make a plan, gather information, and do her best to escape back to the safety of her bodyguard’s arms.
She pulled herself to her feet again and peered through the mesh covering the windows. She saw farmland and cows and another lane of traffic. She banged on the window and waved as a car passed them, but no one even looked in her direction. Where were they? She finally saw one of the few and far between signs: I-101, just a few miles outside of Shelton, heading west toward the ocean beaches. She was tearing at the thick mesh with one of her short nails when the van slowed and turned off the highway at an exit where there was nothing more than a gas station and an out-of-business diner. Within minutes, they were on an isolated road leading to nowhere.
Merissa choked back a retching cough when the van swung off the macadam and onto an unpaved road, the gravel pinging off the undercarriage like gunshots. They must be nearing their destination, and she didn’t want to stick around and find out what was in store for her there. She untied Mariposa and looped the lead rope around the horse’s neck as makeshift reins. As soon as she was outside of the van’s stall, the mare got edgy again, probably picking up on Merissa’s fear. Merissa fought to control her emotions and transmit only calm, confident feelings to her horse, but the battle wasn’t an easy one. She gasped out loud when the van jerked to a stop, and she twisted her fingers tightly in Mariposa’s mane. She’d have one shot at this, and she had to make it work.
She heard the footsteps crunch on the gravel, heard the ramp’s hinges squeak as it was lowered. As soon as she saw a sliver of daylight at the door, she swung herself onto Mariposa’s bare back and urged her forward. The mare’s polo training told her exactly what needed to be done—she barreled forward and a push from her shoulder swung the door open and sent the man who was standing outside it flying off the ramp. Merissa caught a glimpse of a slender guy in a ski mask, but she didn’t stick around to notice any identifying features. She kicked Mariposa forward and they galloped down the gravel road, back the way they’d come.
Merissa was tempted to veer off the open road where they could be followed by the van or shot at if the kidnapper had a weapon, but she didn’t want to risk a fall in the dense undergrowth. After they had run for about a mile she slowed the mare enough to look behind her. No cloud of dust to signal the van’s approach. No sound of pursuing footsteps or vehicles. When she turned to the road ahead again, she saw a flash of white streak by her in the woods. A sign, on one of the trees. She’d have to take a chance and stop long enough to read it in the hopes that it would give her a clue about where she was and how to contact help.
She pulled Mariposa to a halt and stared down the road for a long moment. She hated the thought of heading back toward the van and captivity, but she trotted back to the sign.
Play . Written in bold black letters. Given the amount of rainfall in the Northwest and the potholed, dusty condition of the road, any sign out here would soon be dirty and torn. Merissa faced away from the van again and noticed another sign almost a quarter of a mile away. She jogged toward it.
The . Her hands shook as she grabbed a fistful of Mariposa’s black mane and cantered her to the next rectangle of white.
Game .
It’s a game, Merissa, and you have to learn how to play it , Lemaine had said to her.
A shudder ran through her. Had he arranged for her to be kidnapped and brought here? To be frightened like a chained animal, and then allowed to escape only to be given this message? The idea of being led through this charade like a puppet made her feel furious and weak at the sa
me time. He obviously wasn’t afraid of letting her know who was behind all this, and when faced with his gutsy move, she felt the sense of power her escape had given her fizzle away in an instant. He must be so far removed from the abduction that he was confident she’d never be able to blame him for it. She had no proof, except for the words she had heard him say when they were alone. She wiped angrily at the tears on her cheeks, and then she aimed Mariposa toward the main road again and jogged slowly along it until she got to the run-down gas station.
Chapter Twenty-two
Billie left Merissa in the stabling area with Cal and Rachel while she took Misty to the van. Instead of going directly across the parking lot, she took a detour around the barn and down a different aisle, keeping an eye out for anyone suspicious or out of place. The day had gone smoothly so far, except for her short-lived spat with Merissa, but Billie figured the chaotic time after the matches would be ideal for any troublemakers.
She was leading the gray mare back from her recon trip when she saw Merissa and Mariposa pass by the end of the barn alone, heading toward the van. She clucked to Misty and walked faster. Merissa must have seen her leave and was following her, without realizing Billie had veered off course.
She pulled Misty to a halt when a horse in front of them shied away from a water hose and stepped into their path, but they moved on again as soon as the way was clear. They turned the corner at the end of the aisle just in time for Billie to see Merissa’s van pulling away from its parking place and heading toward the exit. She hurried Misty into a jog and they ran toward the departing van.