HORSES AND HEROIN (Romantic Mystery) (39 page)
Read HORSES AND HEROIN (Romantic Mystery) Online
Authors: Bev Pettersen
Still, her hurt was overwhelming. “You didn’t even call,” she whispered.
“I had to fix things. Needed to bring your brother back.” His voice faltered. “But I can’t fix this. Ever. I thought… Megan, all you ever did was sell chocolate bars.”
She tried to twist around, but his arms tightened and he pressed her against his chest, his head close to her ear. “I’m so damn sorry.”
A tear trickled down her cheek. She started to lift her hand but he was stroking the back of her wrists, his light touch so at odds with the anguish in his voice. And she didn’t want to move. Not now, not when she’d feared she’d never be close to him again. Maybe his heartbreaking absence hadn’t totally been about Garrett? A nugget of hope sparked in her chest.
“Belinda’s pushing for a release,” Scott went on, his voice still ragged. “I have some guys down there. You’ll have Joey home by next week.”
It took a moment for her to digest that news. Her mother received regular updates and had said officials were extremely cooperative. It appeared Scott’s influence had a long reach, but oh God, she didn’t want anyone else hurt.
“Where’s Snake?” she asked, with a flare of panic.
He paused, as though surprised by her question. “Still at the Baja Tinda. But the Torres cell is broken. You don’t have to worry any longer.”
She hadn’t really worried. Had never thought Miguel’s father would target her for revenge. It seemed more likely he’d go after Scott—the shooter. If she’d known Scott had been working south of the border, she would have been terrified. But at least he was safe now. She shivered with relief. “You came back before Snake?”
“I had to meet you.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. What kind of man would take off to Mexico, recover Joey’s body, participate in some kind of cartel invasion, then honor a date made months earlier? Yet not ever call? She couldn’t understand his thought process.
Yet her chest drummed with hope, and when she opened her eyes the sun seemed a bit brighter, the air sweeter. His hands remained linked over hers, but neither of them spoke. The announcer warned ‘two minutes to post.’ A lady with a shrill voice agonized over her bets, and a pigtailed girl begged for a pony ride. A man with a hotdog dropped ketchup on his shirt. Her hearing—every one of her senses—seemed to have kicked into overdrive.
“I love the track,” she murmured. “The smell of horses, beer, hotdogs.”
“Me too,” he said. “Want some?”
Her appetite had vanished over the last month but now she could almost taste the mustard. Hotdogs were always good here. She didn’t want Scott to move though. Wanted to absorb his presence a little longer. Somehow he’d wrapped himself around her, had tucked her head beneath his chin.
It seemed as if they were the only ones in the paddock. Actually, she peered sideways, they
were
the only ones by the paddock. The horses had disappeared along with the spectators.
“The hotdog and beer I can get you now,” he said. “The horse later.”
Wow. Her knees turned rubbery but it didn’t matter. He was literally holding her up. “Sounds good,” she managed. “But my place is too small for a horse.”
“Mine isn’t.”
“I see.” Her voice sounded breathy, so low she could barely hear it over the hammering of her heart. He acted as though everything was cool between them. Maybe he had a trace of amnesia? “What about Garrett?” she asked.
He slid his hands up her arms, wrapped them around her shoulders and turned her around. “What about him?” His gray eyes were unreadable.
Now she wished she hadn’t mentioned the man. Not today. It was enough that Scott was here, that he had cared enough to come. He was even talking about riding together. They could build on that.
But she couldn’t stay silent.
“You didn’t call,” she said, her voice quivering with the memory of all the sleepless nights. “Wouldn’t even talk when
I
called you. Did you blame me for Garrett’s death?”
He flinched as though shocked. “It wasn’t that. I couldn’t forgive myself. Christ, I cuffed you and handed you over—” His voice broke and the muscles in his throat moved convulsively.
“But then you saved me,” she said quickly. “It’s in the past.”
She could feel the tenseness in his body though and it was apparent it wasn’t in
his
past. His face had stiffened to a stony mask. Oh, God. What if he took off on another job, seeking some crazy kind of redemption? She didn’t want him anywhere near Mexico.
“There is something you can do for me.” She spoke fast, before she lost her nerve.
“You got it,” he said. But he lowered his hands from her arms, his chest so tight she could see the ridges beneath his shirt.
“Eve is having Joey’s baby,” she said. “He’ll need a man in his life, someone dependable.”
“Eve’s pregnant? So that’s why you insisted on riding Rambo.” He paused and tilted his head, eyes wary. “You think I’m dependable?”
She nodded. Tears stung the back of her eyes. He was the most dependable, the most decent man she’d ever met.
But he just stared, so still he didn’t seem to be breathing. He certainly made no move to close the gap.
She crossed her arms and pretended an interest in the paddock screen. Two galloping horses strained for the wire. Looked like number three, the Rambo look-alike, would win. She couldn’t bring herself to care, not with this clawing fear that paralyzed her body.
Scott’s withdrawal was ominous. No doubt she’d scared him with talk of a baby. Sure, he’d take a bullet for her—but he was a natural-born protector. That’s what he did. It didn’t mean he wanted to be around for the long haul.
She fumbled with her program. Spectators trickled back to the paddock as the horses arrived for race two. In a few minutes, the area would be crowded again. She scanned the entries but the writing was indecipherable, and she realized she was holding the pages upside down.
“Forget I asked that,” she said. “I know it’s a big commitment…” Her voice trailed off in misery. She couldn’t stop blinking, desperately fighting the prick of tears.
He cursed. Pried the program from her distressed fingers and pulled her along the concrete, moving against the flow of racegoers.
They rounded a corner. He turned, pantherlike, pressing her against the wall. It was much quieter here but she could still hear the loudspeaker, the crowd…Scott’s ragged breathing.
He raised his hands and cupped the sides of her face, the center of his eyes as dark as his gunslinger stubble. “You need to know, right now, that I love you, Megan. I was a goner since the day you wiggled under my car.”
He cleared his throat. “And I’m honored as hell to help in any way I can with the baby. I wish I could have known Joey.”
She stared up at him, suddenly lightheaded. Tenderness blazed in his eyes along with a strange uncertainty. He loved her. In spite of everything? But he didn’t know everything. However, his thumb stroked her cheek and as usual, his touch made it difficult to think.
“I…” she sucked in a quivery breath, not certain if he’d even hear her confession over the thudding of her heart. “I experimented with drugs when I was younger,” she said in a rush.
“So did I.”
“I ended up in Juvenile Court,” she said. “After Dad left I was a bit of a rebel.”
His eyes flashed with amusement. “I know, sweetheart.”
She stopped talking. Of course, he knew. At some point, he’d been investigating her. But he wasn’t revolted? Garrett said Scott hated drugs, and anyone who ever used them. Something warm flooded her chest. “I do not wiggle under cars,” she added, her voice so thick with joy, it sounded unfamiliar.
“Baby, you have an irresistible wiggle.” His thumb skimmed along her jaw, trailing seductively over her collarbone, making her shiver. “You see, like that.” His voice turned fierce. “And I
will
make you love me.”
“That’s not something you have to do.” She rose on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck. “In fact, it’s way too late. I already bought a bigger sofa.”
His entire body stilled. A group of teenagers rushed past, so close someone muttered an apology, but he didn’t take his eyes off her face. “You mean a sofa that fits you, Rex…and me?”
“That’s exactly what I mean,” she said. “I love you.”
He tunneled his hand through her hair, still staring. His head swooped and his mouth covered hers in a kiss filled with passion and promise. A kiss that left her breathless and slightly dizzy and totally loved. And when he finally lifted his head, his own eyes gleamed, but it was hard to really see because everything blurred through her happy haze of tears.
“Let’s go home, sweetheart,” he said softly.
Home. She already felt home, along with something else…a presence she hadn’t sensed for a very long time. And she was swept by a profound sense of peace, knowing that somewhere Joey was smiling.
OTHER BOOKS BY BEV PETTERSEN:
Jockeys and Jewels
Color My Horse
Fillies and Females
Thoroughbreds and Trailer Trash
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Many thanks to Ulf & Barb Snarby, Val Dyer, Becky & Archie Mason, Pat Thomas, Anne MacFarland, Nathaniel Mason, Cathy McDonald, and Ben & Liana Mason.
About The Author
Bev Pettersen is an award-winning writer and two-time finalist in the Romance Writers of America’s Golden Heart® Contest. She competed for five years on the Alberta Thoroughbred race circuit and is an Equine Canada certified coach. When she’s not writing novels, she’s riding. Visit her at
http://www.bevpettersen.com
Author’s Note
I hope you enjoyed reading Horses and Heroin. If so, would you help others enjoy it as well. Lend it (this book is lending enabled so you can share it with a friend), recommend it, or leave a review. If you’d like to know when the next book is available, please sign up for my mailing list at
http://www.BevPettersen.com
Sincere thanks! - Bev
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