Getting Lucky

by Jennifer Seasons

  Shannon quickly compiled a new version of events in her mind, one she liked much more, and suddenly felt better about things. There was no wrongdoing. Just a legendary bloodline, thought lost, but was actually still in existence and stronger now than the industry had seen in over thirty years.

  No wonder her father was suspicious. Suspicious—but completely and totally wrong. Thank goodness.

  She refused to consider why she felt such a fervent need to believe her new truth. She just did.

  Relief flooded her, but the reprieve was short-lived. As they reached the last stall, Shannon glanced in briefly and kept walking. Until what she’d just seen registered. Then she spun back around and dashed to the gate. A sob broke out when she saw what was inside.

  Tim rushed to her side. “What is it?”

  Shannon stared blankly, on the verge of tears. They welled up inside her. “Look.” It was all she could manage to say. How could this be?

  Tim came up next to her and looked inside, swearing instantly. Violently. “Stay back,” he ordered and opened the stall gate.

  She couldn’t have moved even if she wanted to. Her eyes were locked on the horror before her. “Is she breathing?” she whispered.

  Tim took the few steps necessary and crouched down next to the prone little filly with the big white blaze on her face that she’d watched running in the pasture just days ago. Her eyes were closed and Shannon couldn’t see her rib cage moving.

  Oh, God, was the filly dead?

  Next to her, lying in the straw, was a small, disposable syringe with a bent needle. And beside that was a small brown glass bottle. It was empty.

  Dear God, it couldn’t be!

  Fisting her hands to her mouth, Shannon was finally able to move and pushed her way into the stall, crouching down next to Tim, who said gruffly, after checking her breathing, “She’s alive, but just barely.” Then he yanked his phone out of his back pocket and was relaying the emergency to Sean’s vet seconds later.

  “Who would do such a thing?” Shannon whispered. Then she pointed with a shaky finger to the bottle with no label. “And what is that?”

  Tim looked up from the filly, his eyes ripe with sadness. “I’m not sure, but I know what it sure looks like.”

  Don’t say it. Don’t make it true.

  Shannon heard a commotion from the other end of the barn and then, “Where is everybody?” It was Sean.

  Tim’s mouth was set in a grim line when he stood up and called out, waving Sean over. “We’re down here, Muldoon. Hurry.”

  In seconds, Sean’s head appeared above the stall. He took one look at what they were crouched next to and began spewing rapid Gaelic, frowning darkly. What he was saying needed no translation. It was clear he was cursing. Then he was in the stall next to Shannon, hunkered down with the glass bottle in his hand. Bringing it to his nose, he took a cautious sniff and swore again.

  Tim said in a reassuring tone, “Rick’s on his way and will be here in just a minute. Luckily, he’s with the yearlings doing routine physicals.”

  “When did you find her?” Sean asked quietly.

  She glanced slowly between the men and the unnaturally still filly as the ramifications of what she was witnessing hit her. Her body went tight as a cinched corset and her brain began to shut down all functionality. She was very close to having a completely dissociated panic attack. She could feel it closing over her, trapping her, and it filled her with pain. Blinking rapidly, her breath came in fast, shallow bursts as her body began to shake and her mind screamed denial. She viciously wanted to continue believing this new version of events she’d created where Sean wasn’t really drugging his horses and was instead innocent and good. She wasn’t so sure her heart could handle it being any other way.

  Just then the vet came racing into the barn carrying a medical bag. “I’m here. Where is she?”

  Shannon jerked away from Sean and stood up, pointing at the unconscious filly. “We found her a few minutes ago. What is the stuff, Sean? What did somebody inject her with?” Tell me it wasn’t steroids. Please.

  Sean took another sniff of the bottle, his green eyes flat and devoid of emotion when he replied. “I don’t know, exactly.” But she could tell by the way his jaw clenched that he had his suspicions.

  “It looks like somebody drugged your foal,” Tim stated without pretense.

  Sean’s gaze whipped up to him and then to Shannon. “Obviously.”

  Trembling, Shannon started to back out of the stall. The brown bottle he was holding was the same size around as the dust mark left in the medicine locker she’d seen, and it made her want to weep. Just when she’d been so sure of his innocence.

  This changed everything.

  Now she didn’t know what to think. So she didn’t. Couldn’t if she tried.

  Instead she just walked away.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “SHANNON, WAIT!” SEAN called after her. Her face had gone pale and her eyes huge with dilated pupils before she’d spun around and sprinted out of the barn. With his heart beating a punishing rhythm and feeling heartsick over his foal, he rose to his feet, intent on following her.

  But he was stopped when Tim said quietly, “We’ve got a real problem, Sean.”

  Like he didn’t already know. His gut had gone raw and slippery. “I know.” In his heart he knew—and it scared the piss out of him.

  Mickey O’Banion.

  It was the only explanation. He and his boys were the only ones with real motivation to go after Zeke or one of his foals, because they were the only ones who knew the stallion’s real secret—his true identity. Even though his coat had changed from bay to gray as he’d matured and he had no white markings, Sean had obviously been naïve in believing that the change was enough to keep his identity hidden forever. When he’d first agreed to accept the bet that night at Flannery’s, he’d learned of Zeke’s lineage, how his great-grandsire was the legendary Shergar. In fact, it was O’Banion’s men who’d originally stolen Shergar at gunpoint and hidden him away.

  The mob boss hadn’t been kidding when he’d said his new foal came from the finest stud farm in the country—Mickey’s own.

  “Do you think it’s an inside job?” Tim asked, his voice colored with worry.

  He shook his head. “It’s not.”

  “How can you be so sure of that?” The trainer lifted his cowboy hat and scratched at an itch near his hairline. “It’d be easy enough for one of the stable hands to do it.”

  He clenched his jaw. “It’s not them,” he ground out, growing irritated.

  Tim stared at him unblinking for long seconds. Finally he said, “Then it’s the competition—another breeder, a rival farm.”

  Callum Charlemagne came instantly to mind. But Sean dismissed that suspicion. Mostly. On the off chance that it wasn’t the Irish mob that’d done this, he’d be foolish to rule out that old bastard. He’d hated Sean since the beginning.

  Sean nodded once—just once. “Yes. That’s most likely it.”

  “You want me to call the police?”

  He shook his head, knowing he should be the one to do it. “I’ll phone the guards.” He figured having his property crawling with the law would keep anyone unsavory at bay for a while. Long enough to figure out a plan at least, hopefully.

  With one last glance at the foal who’d shown such spunk and promise just yesterday, his heart bruised and aching, Sean made his way out of the stall. “Leave everything as it is, Tim. Don’t touch anything. We want to give the authorities as much to go on as possible.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tim frown. “That might be a problem then. Shannon touched everything.”

  Christ. The last thing he needed was for her to wind up a bloody suspect. “Well, then you can explain that when they get here.”

  Leaving Tim, Sean strode out of the barn into the bright Rocky Mountain sunshine. Squinting against the sun, he pulled his cell phone from the front pocket of his jeans, looked up the number, and dialed
the Fortune police. The line had just picked up and a female dispatch answered when he saw Shannon slip into the trees that separated his house from the barns. Where in the bloody world was she going?

  But before he could go find out, he was distracted by having to answer a ton of questions. When the dispatcher had all the information she needed, he hung up and prepared to be bombarded by the police.

  Lovely.

  Still, as much as he hated it and as uncomfortable as it made him, this was his responsibility. If someone else besides O’Banion really was behind the attacks, then he needed to know. Because he wanted a bloody clear conscience just once in his life when he lay his head down on his pillow at night. Waking up in cold sweats at three a.m. had become his nightly routine, and it was getting really old. When he’d fled Ireland for a new life, it hadn’t occurred to him how draining it would be to spend the rest of his life always looking over his shoulder, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  Or just how much he’d have to sacrifice.

  “Hey, Sean!” came a shout from behind him. Turning his head, he spotted his stable hand Stew coming toward him. The guy was pure Texan with his handlebar mustache and ten-gallon hat. He had an awful habit of chewing, but was magic with the horses. “I just came back from a ride on the front forty, and ya ain’t gonna like what I seen.”

  There was more? Could the day get any worse? “What’s out there?”

  The wiry horseman stopped a few feet away and hooked his thumb over his shoulder back in the direction of the highway. “There’s a news reporter set up down at the gate. When he saw me, the reporter started asking me some mighty pushy questions about Something Unexpected’s injury at Belmont, so I told ’em I didn’t know what the devil he was yammerin’ on about. I told him he was plum crazy.”

  Why was a reporter sniffing around about Zeke’s injury? Just what he needed. Christ. What a goddamn mess.

  Scrubbing a hand over his face, Sean inhaled deeply and said, “Thanks for the heads-up, Stew. Why don’t ye go on and check on Zeke—maybe stay with him for a while. He was acting surly earlier, and I think he’s feeling pent up and restless. He could use the company.”

  There was also the added benefit that having someone sitting with him would make him less vulnerable.

  The Texan nodded briskly. “Ya got it, boss.”

  Just then the distinctive sound of wheels on gravel permeated the air and he closed his eyes, took a deep breath. He could do this. He could give the guards a statement and show them the crime scene. And he could keep it together.

  Nobody had to know that inside he was shaking.

  HE’D MADE IT. He’d survived.

  Those were Sean’s only thoughts as he watched the last squad car pull out and head down his driveway early that evening, the sky overhead dark and foreboding with an impending storm. Thunder threatened in the distance. When had that come in? It’d been nothing but clear skies an hour ago.

  He shrugged. Such was weather in Colorado.

  Before anything else could stop him, he went to find Shannon. It had been hours since she’d run out of the barn and he was worried about her. Her eyes had looked so dark and anguished.

  Sean stepped onto his front porch as the sky opened up and started dumping rain, but he wasn’t prepared for his screen door to swing open with a screech as Shannon came out, her arms crossed and her eyes puffy. It was obvious she’d been crying. Christ, he’d been afraid of that. And he’d been worried about it for the past hour.

  Before he could stop himself, he reached out and yanked her to him, hugging her hard. The instant his body came into contact with hers, she started shaking. “Hey now, a mhuirnin,” he whispered softly.

  For a long moment, she hugged him back, her head against his chest and her fingers curled into his back. But then she was shoving away, demanding, “Tell me it’s not true.”

  He searched her gaze, confused. “What are you talking about? The filly isn’t going to die, if that’s what you’re asking, Shannon. She’ll live, thankfully.”

  She raked a hand through her hair, turned to walk away, then came back to him, eyes dark and wounded-looking. Stopping in front of him, she tilted her head and said, “Was it a drug overdose?”

  “It appears it was, yes.” He nodded.

  She exploded. “Why, Sean? Why the hell are you pumping your horses full of steroids? Is winning that big of a deal?”

  Shock froze him in place and he stammered, dumbfounded at the accusation. “You—you think I did this? That I’m doping me runners?”

  “I do.” She had her arms crossed tightly and nodded curtly, her lips pressed in a tight line.

  “What kind of piece of shite feck do you take me for, Shannon?” How could she even ask such a thing?

  “I don’t know, Sean. You tell me.”

  “Tell me what you’re doing in my house, first,” he countered, feeling defensive. He wasn’t the type of arsehole who’d shoot up his horses just to win a few races. Aside from the fact that postrace drug testing was mandatory and hiding that sort of abuse would be incredibly hard, he simply wouldn’t do that. Bottom line. And he was suddenly starting to get pissed that she thought so little of him.

  Spinning on her heels, she threw her nose in the air and disappeared inside his home just like she owned the place herself. If he weren’t so offended at the moment over her accusations, it would have warmed his heart to see the woman he was mad for treat his home with such familiarity. As it was, it just drove him batty.

  He followed her inside and let the screen door shut with a resounding slap. “Well?” He growled after her. “What’s your bloody reason?”

  She stopped in front of the living room fireplace but rounded when he neared. “I couldn’t be in that building, okay? I needed somewhere else to be,” she suddenly shouted, her hands fisting at her sides. Shannon’s eyes turned on him, round as saucers and swimming with emotion. “She was just a baby.” Her voice broke on a sob.

  Something inside him responded to her anguish and he went to her, pulled by an irresistible need to give her comfort. “Hush now. The vet is doing everything he can. With a little luck she’ll be right as rain very soon.” And he wrapped her up in his arms again. She was still shaking and his heart broke a little. Today’s travesty had been really hard on her. For many long moments he simply held her to him, giving and receiving comfort. Slowly, her fists unfurled against him, her fingers digging gently into his lower back. Then her breathing slowed and became steady. “That’s it,” he crooned softly against her hair before inhaling the lemon scent of her shampoo.

  Yearning reared up inside him, swift and strong. Christ, he wanted this woman in his life. He couldn’t have her, but he bloody well wanted her anyway. Even if only once. Because he’d begun to realize something. Something profound.

  His heart had chosen Shannon.

  He didn’t want to die without knowing what it was like to be with her, selfish as that might be. This whole time he’d been keeping her at arms’ length thinking it was in her best interest. But was it really?

  Shannon shifted and mumbled something against his chest that he couldn’t understand. Pulling back, Sean asked gently, “What was that you said, love?”

  Lifting her head, she met his gaze with her gorgeous brown eyes and his chest went tight, making him wheeze slightly. “I said that I needed to know the truth.”

  Still short on breath, he was a little surprised that he managed, “What truth?”

  Her big brown eyes bore into him, branding his soul. “Are you using steroids on your horses?”

  “I’m not,” he said softly, definitively.

  For what seemed like forever, but was probably only a few seconds, she simply stared at him in silence. Then she must have decided something because her shoulders slumped and she curled into him, tucking her head under his chin.

  “I shouldn’t believe you,” she whispered.

  “Why not?” It was a real question. What reason did she have not to believe him?
Well, other than the fact that she’d found a used needle and empty bottle with the injured foal. That looked suspect, he had to admit.

  “I have my reasons.”

  “Don’t we all?” He murmured into her hair.

  “Mine are really good.”

  That got a chuckle out of him. “Want to share?”

  She shook her head against his chest, her silky hair rubbing against him with the movement. “Nu-uh.”

  “You certain?” he replied almost absently as his body began to stir with desire. The way her breasts were pushing against him was slowly starting to drive him crazy.

  “I don’t want to share,” she said, her voice sounding a little breathy. “I want to do something else.”

  Before he could respond, she lifted onto her toes and did something completely unexpected—and totally arousing.

  She kissed him. Hard. And in that instant, Sean made a life-altering decision.

  Tonight, Shannon was his.

  Chapter Sixteen

  ABANDONING CAUTION, SHANNON surrendered to her feelings. The way Sean’s demanding mouth moved over hers made it impossible to do anything else. There was such a raw honesty in the way he kissed her, the way he held her. It touched her very core. Good God, how she wanted this man.

  Like nothing she’d ever wanted before.

  A tide of emotion crashed over her, and Shannon dug her fingers into his back, riding a wave of need. Heat poured like molten gold into the pit of her belly, and she pushed against him, the sudden sensitivity between her legs begging for his touch. He responded with a throaty groan and grabbed her ass with his large, work-hardened hands and pulled her full against him, grinding slowly.

  With an equally slow and arousing tug of her bottom lip, he pulled away to whisper in a voice gone rough and unsteady, “I’ve got to be with you. I can’t wait anymore.” He trailed his lips along her jaw, making her shiver with desire, until he reached her ear and whispered darkly, “Let me have you.”