“Great Danes are wonderful dogs, but I’d suggest you make a list of the qualities you’re looking for in a pet before making a final decision.” Evan startled at the sound of Grace’s voice behind him. He hadn’t even heard the door open.
“That’s what I—” His voice faltered.
Grace’s face was forever imprinted in his mind, so much so, he imagined he could draw it blindfolded. The face staring back at him was not hers. Her freckles had been replaced with high cheekbones and a beauty mark just above full, red lips. Her silver-blue eyes were now a honey-brown color, emphasized with a few wrinkles at the corners—what his mom had always called laugh lines. To top off her new look, chestnut-colored hair framed her face, falling in a cascade of curls that brushed her shoulders. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he never would have believed Grace was the woman standing before him.
“Aren’t you going to say anything? What do you think?” She turned, showing off the designer jeans and pink, floral-print blouse. “Will anyone recognize me?”
“Um...uh...no.”
“I think he’s speechless!” Bridget beamed, pushing past Grace to grab his arm. “Okay, your turn.” She marched him into the cabin, pushing him onto the chair where Grace sat earlier.
“Are you going to be able to make me as unrecognizable as Grace?”
“Of course, silly. You didn’t think I was going to slap a pair of fake-nose-and-mustache glasses on you and call it done, did you?” Bridget giggled. “Give me more credit than that.”
“I honestly didn’t know what to expect,” he said, not taking his eyes off Grace. “But one thing is for sure, I’ll never doubt your ability as a disguise master again.”
Grace’s laughter mingled with Bridget’s and his heart lifted. For the first time all day, Evan actually believed they might pull off Agent Ingalls’s harebrained plan.
* * *
Evan captured Grace’s hand in his own as they walked along the graveled parking area. Leaning in close, he whispered, “Stop fidgeting with your hair.”
She frowned. “It’s hot and itchy.”
“I know. Mine is, too, but we don’t want to blow our cover.”
Evan honestly couldn’t say whose transformation shocked him more, Grace’s or his. When he’d looked into the mirror, he had truly been speechless. His ginger-colored hair had been replaced with a dark brown, short-hair wig. To complete the image, Bridget had attached facial hair with an adhesive she promised would come off with the remover she’d left behind, giving him thicker eyebrows and a close-cropped beard the same color as the wig. His appearance was so altered, he didn’t think his parents or Camden would have been able to pick him out of a lineup.
Evan’s gun pressed against the small of his back, offering a small amount of comfort. “Remember, let me do the talking.”
She nodded. “I’ll follow your lead.”
They approached the guard at the gate. He had hoped Randy Ingalls would have been assigned to gate duty, guaranteeing their admittance, but he wasn’t the one who greeted them. “Tickets?”
Evan handed over the tickets without saying a word. The guard, a tall, gangly ranch hand from the Hamilton ranch, glanced at the ticket, then back at Evan. “You’re not Henry Green. How did you get these tickets?”
“Uncle Henry gave them to me. I’m Theodore Green the Third. Everyone calls me Trey.” Evan held his breath, praying he’d disguised his voice well enough the man hadn’t recognized it.
The guy looked him up and down. “I didn’t know ol’ Henry had a nephew.”
“Actually, if you want to get technical, I’m his great-nephew. You see, he’s my momma’s daddy’s baby brother.”
“Well, Trey, your great-uncle Henry doesn’t have the authority to give you these tickets. See right here.” The man held the tickets under Evan’s nose. “It says ‘nontransferable.’ Henry Green has to be here to use them.”
“But, sir, Uncle Henry isn’t coming. You might have heard, his colt, Knight’s Honor, that was supposed to race today developed a bad case of colic. Anyway, Uncle Henry figured if his horse wasn’t racing, there wasn’t any need for him to be here. It’s not like he’s going to place a bet on a horse that isn’t his, you know. But my wife here likes—”
“Look, Trey, I don’t care what your wife likes.” The man gestured to the line of people behind them. They looked annoyed. “I can’t let you in. Now, kindly leave, before I have you escorted off the premises.”
“I’m outta here.” Grace huffed and turned on her heels, her red cowgirl boots kicking up dust. “You promised me I’d get to do some gambling on this trip. What was the point of me taking money out of the safe if I wouldn’t get to have fun? I knew we should have gone to Vegas.”
“What’s going on here?” A big, burly man in his mid-to late-forties with thinning blond hair, wearing a tan Western suit and a Stetson hat, walked up to the gate from inside the event grounds.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Torres.” The guard apologized. “These people were leaving.”
Evan eyed the newcomer. The way the guard was acting, it was obvious this man was important, possibly even the person running the operation.
Putting his hand on the small of Grace’s back, Evan spoke loudly. “It’s okay, honey. I’ll phone the pilot and tell him to get the jet fueled up and ready to go. We can be in Vegas in a few hours.”
“Wait a minute.” Torres motioned for them to come over to the fence, standing off to the side so others could enter. “Why don’t you tell me who you are, and I’ll decide if I allow you to enter or not?”
“Well, sir, like I tried to tell the man at the gate. I’m Theodore Green the Third, from Dallas. We’re visiting my uncle, Henry Green, at Mountain View Ranch. Since his horse got colic—”
“Oh, good grief, Trey. Nobody cares about all that,” Grace interrupted, talking in a syrupy-sweet Southern voice.
She turned to the burly man and smiled sweetly. “I’m Shelby Green.” She nodded to Evan. “Trey’s wife. You see, it’s my birthday, which means I get to gamble. I only gamble twice a year, my birthday and New Year’s Day. That way I don’t get addicted, you know.”
Evan bit back a smile. Grace was having fun weaving her tale, and Torres seemed to be buying it.
She got a serious look on her face, leaned in close, so only he and Torres could hear her. “What that means is my sweet man here gave me ten thousand dollars. I’m either going to gamble some, or all, of it here at your little horse race, or I’m headed to Vegas. The choice is yours.”
“Is this a joke?”
Grace returned the man’s stare, unblinking. “Oh, honey, I never joke about money.”
“Cell phones must be turned off, and no cameras allowed. If you break the rules, you’re outta here, and you forfeit all your bets.” Torres looked to the guard and added, “Let them in.”
Grace squealed and waltzed past the guard, Evan close on her heels.
Now the real test began. How many people in attendance knew Chief Evan Bradshaw and Dr. Grace Porter? Would he and Grace be able to stay in character without blowing their cover?
ELEVEN
Evan surveyed the area. A musty odor of hay, manure and horses surrounded them. The entire match race setup was crude. Horses were being held in a corral instead of a barn with stalls.
As Evan and Grace passed the holding area, a palomino colt neighed and reared on his hind legs. A handler fought to control the animal while another man stood to the side with a syringe.
When Grace’s steps faltered, Evan slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. “Remember, don’t react to anything you see.”
She nodded and averted her eyes from the scene playing out in front of them, her jaw clenched.
The fact the men weren’t even trying to hide what they were doing was alarming. Evan had no way of knowing what was in the syringe,
but he seriously doubted it was full of vitamin supplements. He halted Grace and turned her to face him. Leaning in, he placed his lips near her cheek and whispered, “Time to take photos.”
Pulling back, she met his eyes. Her lip quivered ever so slightly, but she smiled and reached up to grasp his silver-onyx bolo tie. Vanilla perfume assailed him. Her signature scent, bringing back memories of scented notes left in his locker and vanilla-lip-gloss kisses.
Mentally shaking himself, he took half a step to the right, providing a clear view for the camera hidden behind the fake stone. Grace’s fingers slipped behind the oval slide, giving the appearance to onlookers she was adjusting the tie when in reality she was pressing the tiny button hidden on the back that activated the camera.
“I thought you were here to gamble.” Torres walked over to them. “All you’re doing is staring at your husband.”
“Well, we haven’t been married long, so sometimes I find myself looking at him wondering if it’s real.” Grace laughed. “But I’m glad you’re here, Mr....Torres, was it?” She paused, but the man neither confirmed nor denied his name. “Can you tell me anything about the horses racing today? So I can pick one?”
“You’ll find flyers at the betting booths listing the horses and their stats.” He motioned to the four booths stationed around the three-quarter-mile oval track. A man, wearing a black T-shirt with Security written across the front, walked over and whispered in his ear.
When Torres turned, his jacket flapped open, revealing a holster. “The first race starts in fifteen minutes, so place your bets,” he said over his shoulder as he walked away.
Once the man was out of earshot, Grace whispered, “Did you see the gun?”
“I did, but don’t focus on that.” Evan squeezed her hand. “You did great. Now, we need to go to one of the booths and look at the flyers.”
Her eyes widened. “We’re not really going to place a bet, are we?”
“No,” he assured her. “But we have to make it look like we are.”
Evan took Grace’s elbow and guided her toward the booth. He pulled a flyer out of the holder on the small wood shelf under the ticket window then leaned both elbows on the shelf as he pretended to study the form.
“Which horse would you like to bet on?” the woman behind the window asked.
“Not sure yet. We need to study the stats first.” He pulled Grace aside and motioned for the next person in line to go ahead of them. They slowly eased away from the booth, trying not to draw attention to themselves.
Dressed in a black Security shirt, with a baseball cap pulled low to obscure his face, Agent Ingalls walked up and leaned on the metal fence railing beside them, his back to the track as he scanned the crowd.
“Don’t acknowledge me. Just listen. You will find fake betting tickets stuffed inside the toilet paper roll in the last Porta Potty.” He briefly made eye contact. “Nice disguises. Wouldn’t have recognized you without the photo you sent earlier.” And then he was gone.
Grace had clutched Evan’s hand when Randy Ingalls appeared, and her nails bit into his skin. He pried his hand free. “I’m sorry,” she gasped.
“It’s okay.” He laced his fingers through hers and smiled. “Now, let’s get those tickets.”
They walked to the row of Porta Potties and got in line for the one on the end. Finally, it was his turn.
“I want you to stand right outside the door,” Evan said. “If you need me, yell.”
“Believe me, I will.” She smiled. “Loudly.”
He entered the small, plastic water closet, holding his breath as he worked to quickly remove the roll of toilet paper from the holder. The tickets were exactly where Ingalls had said they would be. There were tickets for each horse in each race—smart thinking on the agent’s part. This way, no matter who won the race, Evan and Grace could pretend to lose. Dividing the tickets, he slipped them into his pocket.
There was a knock on the door. “Honey. The race is about to start.”
Something must have startled Grace. She wouldn’t have knocked otherwise. He put the roll of paper on top of the holder and then slipped outside, taking a deep breath of fresh air.
He put his arm around her shoulders and turned her toward the track. “Everything okay?”
“I saw someone who resembled Avery’s coloring and build, but I couldn’t see his face.”
Excitement charged through him. Avery Hebert had showed up. “Which way?”
“Over close to the corral.”
Evan turned in that direction. “Well then, lets make our way over there.”
They wove their way through the crowd. The first of three match races was about to start, so most of the people were vying for places to stand with the best views of the track. Evan would estimate there were close to five hundred people in attendance.
They were less than twenty feet from their destination when he saw him. But it was the person with Avery that had Evan stopping short. He looked at Grace to see if she’d noticed. Her facial expression told him she had.
“Val—”
He pulled her into his arms and claimed her lips, silencing her words. The action had been impulsive, intended to protect their cover, but in that instant, Evan knew he was in trouble. Her kiss was as sweet as he remembered, but it was an indulgence he couldn’t afford.
“I’m starting to regret letting you two in here today,” Torres’s voice boomed behind them.
Evan pulled back, avoiding eye contact with Grace.
“A kiss for luck, that’s all,” Grace said, her voice husky.
Had the kiss affected her as much as it had him, Evan wondered, or was she simply embarrassed at being caught?
Whatever was the case, it didn’t matter. Right now the only thing that mattered was catching Avery. Nothing else.
* * *
Grace’s heart fluttered in her chest, as if it were a hummingbird searching to escape its cage. She took a few steadying breaths, willing her nerves to calm. Whatever had possessed Evan to kiss her, here of all places, in front of so many people?
She looked around, getting her bearings. Torres huffed and walked over to Avery, who now stood at the metal fence, observing the track, Valerie at his side.
Oh. Grace touched her lips, the warmth of Evan’s kiss still on them. That’s why he’d kissed her. She’d almost blown their cover. Shelby Green from Dallas, Texas, wouldn’t know a veterinary technician from Blackberry Falls, Colorado.
“I’m sorry. I did the first thing I could think of—”
“To shut me up.” She forced a smile, but her heart felt like it was sinking in quicksand. “It’s okay. Let’s finish what we started. I won’t mess up again.”
“Are you sure being here, pretending to be someone else, isn’t too hard for you?” Concern laced Evan’s voice.
She nodded, and he clasped her hand. “Okay, hang on tight. I don’t want to lose you in this crowd.”
Evan pushed through the throng, stopping to whisper something to Ingalls before nudging his way over to where Avery stood.
When the starting pistol sounded, Grace found herself standing right beside her employee. Was this woman whom she thought of as family involved in the attacks on her and Chloe?
While the crowd around them cheered, urging the two riders to the finish line, Grace observed Avery and Valerie. They laughed and cheered with the onlookers, Avery’s hand on her back. Grace couldn’t believe their beloved employee was mixed up with Avery and his illegal dealings. Valerie’s words came back to her. You saw the attacker’s face. Can you identify him? It all started to make sense. Though she hated to believe her friend would betray her, Grace knew Valerie would have had the opportunity and skills to falsify the medical reports.
Evan nudged her, nodding at the track. She’d been staring. Ugh. She needed to focus and not let her emotions rule her actions. If sh
e blew their cover, it could mean their lives.
The horses were coming around the last turn, and Evan cheered beside her as if his life depended on it.
“Come on, boy! Faster!” Grace yelled, purposely omitting the horse’s name.
Evan had warned her before they’d arrived not to yell out the name of a horse when cheering, because if the horse won, people would wonder why they didn’t claim their “winnings.” If anyone asked which horse they had placed a bet on, they’d dodge the question by replying they didn’t want to jinx themselves by saying. Instead, they would wait until the race was over to announce their pick and act disappointed because they had lost.
As the horses crossed the finish line, the crowd erupted in a chorus of cheers and boos. Avery swept a giggling Valerie into a big hug. “See, darlin’, I told you Freckled Charmer was a winner. Now let’s go get our winnings so I can take you out for a nice dinner.”
Valerie looped her arm through Avery’s and said, “Let’s go.” The pair headed to the nearest booth, walking past Evan and Grace without recognizing them.
Whew. Grace released her breath. Bridget’s disguises had worked.
Torres turned to them. “Well, how did you do, birthday girl?”
Grace frowned. “I lost.”
Evan made a show of pulling the fake betting tickets out of his pocket and tearing them up. “Well, Shelby, looks like we’re done here.”
The burly man smirked. “Too bad. But there are still two more races. Better luck next time.”
“No next time today.” Grace sighed and turned to Evan. “You told me not to bet it all on the first race.”
“You bet all ten thousand on the first race?” Torres questioned.
“I really thought we’d win.”
The man’s smirk turned to a full belly laugh. “Looks like your birthday ain’t so lucky, after all.” Torres walked away, headed to the betting booth.
“Let’s get out of here, before he finds out we didn’t place a bet.”
Rocky Mountain Revenge Page 12