HORSES AND HEROIN (Romantic Mystery) (3 page)

She slid out, wiping her hands and swiping the gravel from her jeans. “There. I’ll just back up, hook on and see what happens.”

He looked rather bemused but did have the presence of mind to check her knot, and she guessed it was a measure of his pain that she’d even been able to grab the rope. He didn’t look like a man who asked for help—more like someone who gave it.

She maneuvered her old Ford into position, attached the rope to her hook, then stepped back into the cab. He gave a thumbs up from the tilted seat of his car. Slowly she pressed the accelerator. One jerk of protest and the Mercedes emerged from the disheveled ditch.

Dented fender, broken headlight, cracked grill. Other than that, the car looked okay. By the time she’d stepped down from the cab and unhooked her end of the rope, he’d already replaced the unneeded shovel and was coiling the heavy rope.

At least he wouldn’t be stuck waiting on the side of the road. And it was a lovely car, banged up but unmistakably elite, even beneath the clinging layer of dirt and grass. “First time my truck has ever rescued such a beautiful car,” she said wryly.

“First time I’ve ever been rescued by such a beautiful lady.”

She shot him a glance, searching for sarcasm, but his expression looked genuine. He really didn’t seem to mind her faded jeans, the messy braid in her hair.

“I’ll be back in L.A. next month,” he said, his level gaze holding hers. “I’d like to take you for dinner. As a thank you.”

She hesitated, uncertain how long she’d be at Joey’s school. This guy probably wouldn’t call anyway. And the prospect of dressing up and driving across the city to a boring restaurant wasn’t very appealing. There was no possibility of an early escape if conversation turned stilted.

“Or just coffee, if you prefer,” he added, obviously a perceptive man.

“It’s not that,” she said quickly. “Really, I’d like to meet you. I live near the San Gabriel Mountains and there’s a racetrack close by with great food. The horses are always fun to watch. April 30th is the last day of spring racing. Maybe we could meet there?”

“Santa Anita. Perfect. One of my favorite spots.” His mouth curved revealing a dimple on the left side of his cheek. Or maybe it was a scar that was more noticeable when he grinned, but whatever he was doing definitely made her insides melt. Jesus. She was staring again, acting like a dork.

She swallowed and slid into the cab, her skin hot and tingly. He closed the door and leaned against the open window of her truck. It was impossible not to notice the muscles rippling in his forearms.

“My name’s Scott. I’ll see you in April, Megan.” He spoke with such assurance she could only nod, sensing he was the type who really would call.

She fumbled with the shift and jerked the truck down the road, barely hearing its noisy muffler over the pounding of her heart. Wow. Her breathing was still in overdrive and despite the cool blast of air conditioning, her palms stuck to the steering wheel.

He was gorgeous, sexy and nice and he was going to call. And although the last five weeks had left her in a wrenching hell, for now she was almost happy. She spent the rest of the drive humming along with the radio. And even smiling.

CHAPTER THREE

“Megan, what is the percentage of silica commonly found in the synthetic track surfaces of California?”

Megan tried not to groan but the sympathetic looks sent by her classmates only increased her frustration. Lydia had been targeting her for the last half hour, ever since she’d rushed in late after towing Scott. Usually she was good at making up answers, but this question was far outside her ranching background.

She shot a look at her roommate, Tami, who only shrugged and gave her trademark eye roll.

“I have no idea,” Megan finally admitted. “I do know Santa Anita switched back to traditional dirt so maybe there wasn’t enough silica?”

Lydia’s eyes narrowed with displeasure. “The correct answer is in yesterday’s study handouts. In the real world, you’ll need to know these details. The reputation of our school depends on each and every one of you. Unfortunately the caliber of our students this year seems vastly inferior.”

Megan bit back her reply, aware it was folly to argue. Lydia didn’t like questions, or debate. Yesterday Eve, the Latina girl with the pixie haircut, had challenged her on a point, and Lydia had summarily punished Eve by assigning extra barn chores.

Megan couldn’t let that happen. She wanted as little schoolwork as possible, needed spare time to trace her brother’s tracks. If he’d slid back into drug use, someone here would know and, if not… She shivered, not wanting to entertain the horrible alternative.

No. He was alive. He had to be. She nervously fingered her pencil, freezing when she realized the brittle teacher had just mentioned Joey’s name.

“Our school has already taken a big hit because of traffickers like Joey Collins,” Lydia said, her upper lip curling. “Drugs and alcohol are insidious. You must be careful of unscrupulous people who might encourage you to experiment. It was criminal that he posed as an aspiring jockey when he really just wanted to set up dealers.”

The pencil in Megan’s hands snapped. She glowered at Lydia. No one knew she and Joey were related—they had different surnames—but she wasn’t going to let anyone smear him like that. Nothing had been proven. He was missing, for God’s sake.

“Joey didn’t do drugs,” Eve, the girl with the pixie haircut, said.

Megan twisted in her seat. She’d only been here a week and didn’t know all the students yet, but this girl was definitely one she needed to meet. Eve was supposedly a top rider and clearly courageous enough to take on Lydia. Unfortunately Eve was also very reserved, almost haughty. So far, Megan hadn’t been able to engage her in any meaningful type of conversation.

“Joey started school the same week I did. He didn’t do drugs,” Eve repeated.

“For your information, the police confirmed he’d been in rehab,” Lydia said smugly. “Several times, in fact. He’s a crackhead.”

Eve’s chin turned mutinous and she squared her shoulders as though preparing to say more.

Lydia’s eyes narrowed to ominous slits.

“Who’s Joey?” Megan asked, struggling to keep her voice level.

“The student who almost shut down our school,” Lydia snapped. “Dumped the horses in Mexico and deserted our driver.” She shot another dark look at Eve and continued. “But Mr. Baldwin is committed to success and is fighting the stigma. He’s added an addictions class, worth a full credit for university transfer. A famous instructor has been hired. Just don’t expect this man to be as flexible as me.”

Someone in the back snickered, but Megan wasn’t sure if it was because of the flexible comment or because Lydia always flushed whenever she mentioned Garrett Baldwin. She seemed to idolize the school owner, primping and posing whenever he appeared.

Lydia folded her arms. “No one will laugh next week. Mr. Taylor only has a forty percent pass rate. He’ll weed out inferior students. Of course, that’s assuming Mr. Baldwin doesn’t send you home first. He’s requested my candid assessments, and I’ve been very honest. Some new students—you know who you are—simply aren’t cut out to be riders. It’s a waste of time and money to let you stay.”

Tami made a slashing gesture over her throat, but Megan shifted in her seat, fearing her cheeks had turned bright red. Only two students in the exercise rider program were still trotting in the field—doing baby circles with Lydia and the grooms.

And she was one of them.

She glanced over her shoulder at Peter, the other hapless rider. He seemed totally unconcerned, busy flirting with the slim redhead in the back. Of course, he’d already had his meeting with Garrett Baldwin. He’d been approved to stay.

Megan sighed but the minute hand of the wall clock seemed to move slower than usual, dragging along with the afternoon lecture. So much to do. Finish class, pick out stalls, feed, shower, eat and then meet with Garrett. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be an exit interview.

She’d have to try harder. But she was always exhausted. The days were strenuous and it didn’t help that her roommate snored. Seven nights into the program and she still wasn’t used to sleeping with Tami. Wasn’t used to sleeping with anyone.

Lydia finally dismissed the class with a jerk of her head, and they trailed from the room.

“Is your interview with Garrett tonight?” Tami asked.

Megan nodded. “I’m the last one. Peter went this morning. According to Lydia, Garrett sees the best students first, the worst ones last.” She forced a wry smile, hiding her fear. It would be devastating to be kicked out after eight days—she hadn’t learned a single thing about Joey.

“Don’t worry.” Tami poked Megan’s ribs with an elbow. “Rumor is, Lydia makes up most of this stuff, trying to scare us. You really have to suck to be kicked out. And Garret likes pretty girls, so you’ll do fine. You’re the only student with an evening appointment. My interview was at seven in the morning and my eyes were still baggy. I didn’t impress him one bit. Lost any chance of snagging a rich sugar dad.”

She gave such a mournful sigh, Megan grinned despite her very real fear she might be sent home. At this point, she was ranked one of the worst riders here. But she had to stay in order to track down Joey. This was the second time her mother had lost someone she loved, and they needed answers.

“If Garrett doesn’t think I can ride well enough to stay as an exercise rider,” Megan said thoughtfully, “I’m going to request a transfer to the grooms’ program.”

Tami’s nose wrinkled. “Loser! You’d be stuck riding in the field and all the cute guys are on the track. Most of their lectures are at different times too. You’ll never get to hang out with anyone cool.”

“True,” Megan said. Tami made no secret of her interest in the jockey students—an interest that rivaled Megan’s own but for totally different reasons. Joey had been in the jockey program for almost seven months. The people that knew him best were the jocks.

“If Garrett offers you a drink, you’ll get to stay,” Tami proclaimed. “And it wouldn’t hurt to wear a low shirt. Maybe wear that silver and amethyst necklace too. I’d kill for jewelry like that. It must have cost more than your truck.”

“You can borrow the necklace whenever you want,” Megan said. It was the only one of her designs she’d brought with her, except for her turquoise studs and coral teardrop earrings. Everything else remained at home. The school had suggested barn clothes only, although she wished she’d been better dressed when she’d met Scott. A girl didn’t mind primping for a guy like that.

“I can borrow it? Sweet!” Tami’s sharp squeal made Megan wince. She felt ancient around her roommate. Of course, designing jewelry was a solitary career, and she hadn’t let many people into her life. Seemed she felt old around everyone.

“Maybe I’ll borrow it tonight,” Tami went on, giving a hip-swiveling hop. “No, you’ll need it for your meeting. You better look your best, just in case. And don’t tell Lydia you have an evening appointment. She doesn’t like girls and she’s only mean keeping you in the field. Everyone knows you’re a better rider than me.”

“She didn’t like that guy who disappeared either,” Megan said, grabbing the opening. “Jamie? Or was it Joey?” It seemed sacrilege to mangle her brother’s name, and she stooped to tighten her bootlace, needing a second to regain her composure.

“Joey,” Tami said. “Joey Collins. And Lydia liked him well enough. But one of the grooms said Joey was sleeping with Eve, and Lydia wants every good-looking guy for herself.”

Megan forgot her bootlace and stared up at Tami. This was exactly the type of information she needed and even though a roommate cut into her cherished privacy, Tami was always full of gossip.

“He was sleeping with Eve?” Megan straightened. “Is Eve the girl with the short dark hair, seems feisty? You’d think they’d have talked to her—”

“Who? Who would have talked?”

Megan shrugged off the question, but found it puzzling that neither the police nor the school had bothered to question Eve. “Lydia acts like she knows so much about Joey when obviously she doesn’t know anything at all,” she said slowly. “Eve said Joey wasn’t involved with drugs. And she should know, especially if she was sleeping with him.”

Tami giggled. “But people don’t talk much during sex. And I wouldn’t mind hooking up with a guy here. We’re so isolated and everyone is too tired to go to town. Be nice to have a single room though. More private, you know.” She eyed Megan hopefully. “Don’t suppose you’re a sound sleeper?”

“I can hear a pin drop,” Megan said, keeping a straight face.

“Fine.” Tami shrugged and shoved a strand of hair behind her ear. “By the way, thanks for making the chocolate run today. Sorry it made you late but we have enough bars to last the week. I think we should sell them for three bucks though. We’d make way more money.”

Megan shook her head. “No. We’ll sell for two. Everyone needs chocolate. I don’t mind covering the gas.” And today had been well worth the drive. If she hadn’t gone to the store, she’d never have met Scott.

She pictured his intelligent eyes, those lethal cheekbones. He was damn hot but guys like that always had plenty of girlfriends. Probably a good thing she avoided messy relationships. However, a day at Santa Anita would be fun. Lots of fun.

Tami tilted her head. “You’re rather happy for someone who strolled into class late and was reamed out by Lydia. I’m glad you went to the store though. You’re one of the few students with wheels, and selling bars is a great way to meet people.” She snickered. “Lydia’s going to freak out wondering why the grooms and exercise riders are gaining weight.”

But not the jockeys, Megan thought ruefully. They hadn’t met any jockeys yet. They must have willpower. She’d already talked to most of the grooms and exercise riders—many had dropped by their room and bought a chocolate bar or two. However, the jocks stayed away, despite the limited cafeteria menu.

Grooms ate like normal people and the diet of an exercise rider wasn’t too restrictive, but the jockeys had it tough. Lydia made them stand on the scales everyday, constantly preaching about how racing meant a lifetime of vigilance. Jock students always crammed in the sauna before morning weigh-in.