Microsoft Word - DeadHeat_wrp356.doc (12 page)

“No. I have two sisters. They leave an entire

wardrobe for when they visit.”

“Really?” She settled back in the seat. “It must be

nice to have brothers and sisters. I don't even have any

cousins that I know about.”

Rye reached over and touched her leg again. “What

happened to your mother?”

She brushed his hand away. “I never knew her. She

ran off with a jockey wannabe soon after I was born. Dad

told me they were both killed in a car accident a few years

later.”

Jenna didn't want to talk about herself. “How about

your parents? Are they alive? Still married to each other?”

“Yes and no. My Dad has a small horse farm about

twenty miles north of here. He still enjoys working with

horses, so he takes racetrack turnouts and makes enough

money to keep the farm going.”

Jenna noticed the now familiar muscle twitch beside

his mouth.

“Seems you and I have more in common than a love

for race horses. My mother didn't like ranch life. She left

us when I was about fifteen. Her departure hoisted a lot

of responsibility on Brett's and my shoulders. I have no

idea where she is now, and that’s the way I want it.”

Maybe Jenna was lucky her mother had left when

she was a baby. At least she didn't have years of

memories to eat away at her. “And your sisters? Where

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are they?”

“Kim lives with Dad. She's a lawyer. Marlene is in

Wyoming working at a dude ranch.”

Now might be a good time to broach the subject of the

argument she and Dani interrupted. “Were you and Brett

arguing about me this morning?”

The comfortable camaraderie between them

vanished. Jenna didn’t care for the negative vibrations

that suddenly filled the interior of the SUV.

“I told him that I wouldn't let you meet with Kincaid

alone. He didn't like me messing with his plans.”

She turned her body sideways as best she could

under the seatbelt. “I'm not afraid to meet with Charles. I

don't know why you're getting so worked up over it.”

He drove through the gates to his farm, pulled over

to the side of the drive and faced her. “There's someone

making death threats against you. I saw the way Charles

treated you yesterday. The conversation didn't sound very

warm and cozy. What is it that you can't understand? You

think because you two were lovers that he wouldn't harm

you if you had something he wanted?”

“No, it's just that...”

“If you insist on meeting the lunatic, then I want to

be within hearing distance. That's all I have to say about

the matter.”

A cold determination settled over his features. Jenna

accepted that arguing would be pointless.

The SUV moved on. Her eyes burned with fatigue.

All she wanted was a soft bed. She'd worry about

everything after a long sleep.

****

at a small white clapboard cottage closest to the main

house. A well-beaten path wound through a stately stand

of oaks from the cottage to the farmhouse. By road, it was

further.

“Here we are.” He forced cheer into his voice, even

though he was as cheery as a gambler who'd just lost his

last buck in a Vegas slot machine.

Jenna scrambled out. “Who else uses these cottages?”

“Guests, clients, family. Sometimes clients who bring

mares to be bred would rather stay on the farm than go

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Dead Heat

back to town and find a hotel.”

The door creaked open. Rye stepped aside, allowing

Jenna to enter a small living area. He gauged her reaction

to the sparsely furnished room.

“There's a kitchen here?”

“Yes, but you're more than welcome to eat up at the

main house.”

She turned her gaze toward him, and he almost

groaned out loud. Those big eyes were starting to haunt

him. He wanted to tangle his fingers in her hair. “I guess

I'll have to until I can do some shopping.”

He moved away before he kissed her senseless. “I'll

bring a car around for you tomorrow. Later, I'll come by

with some clothes. Try to get some rest.”

Once back in his SUV, he leaned forward and butted

his head on the steering wheel. What was so special about

Jenna Green? This obsession had to end. He started the

engine and slowly drove to the house.

A bed with a comfortable mattress called his name as

soon as he entered the hall. Halfway up the stairs, Brett's

voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Where's Jenna?” The chill in his voice told Rye that

his brother was still pissed.

Rye turned on the step and faced him. “I left her at

one of the cottages.”

“You think that's a wise move? Leaving her alone?”

Rye frowned. “Say what’s on your mind.”

“The gate keeps honest people out. Don’t think it

would stop a criminal. Anyone can get here on foot

through the woods.” Rye kept silent, and Brett continued.

“I'd feel better if she stayed up here.”

“I gave her a choice. She wanted her own space.”

“I'll stay with her in the cottage. I can sleep on the

couch.”

A wave of possessive jealousy sparked Rye's

response. “No, you won't. I will.”

A flicker of humor came and went in Brett's eyes.

“Man, you have it bad.”

Rye didn't crack a smile. “I'll take a quick shower and

head down.”

In less than forty-five minutes, Rye let himself back

into the cottage. He carried an armful of clothes, a box of

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food, along with a blanket and pillow. He flipped the

deadbolt and put the food away in the kitchen. A groan of

misery escaped when he sat on the couch cushions. Damn.

He'd meant to replace this couch, but kept forgetting.

Prepared to toss and turn all night, he stretched out,

drifting off to sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

The sound of running water woke him. Soft light

from the bedroom spilled into the small living room. He

swung his legs to the floor and sat up. His headache had

become a bad memory, although he figured it wouldn't

take much to bring it back.

Jenna walked into the room. “What are you doing

here?”

“It was either me or my brother,” he answered in the

middle of a yawn. “Brett didn't want you down here alone.

I thought you'd be more comfortable with me.”

His eyes drank in the sight of her wearing nothing

but a T-shirt that ended a little higher than mid-thigh.

“I found the pile of clothes you brought,” she said, her

voice sounding breathless. “And the food. I'll go change.”

Definitely a nervous filly. Not that she didn't have

reason to be. He rose and stretched his hands towards the

ceiling, and then bent forward, touching the floor with his

fingers. While bent over, he glanced at his watch. They'd

slept for six hours. He'd like to sleep for another six.

By the time Jenna returned, Rye had an omelet

ready. “Hope you like eggs,” he said, pouring orange juice

into two glasses.

“I'm hungry enough to eat anything. The clothes are

a perfect fit. One of your sisters is my size.”

He chuckled. “That'd be Kim. Marlene's petite.”

“Yum,” Jenna said between bites. “Omelet's great.

Good thing you made it and not me. I'm not too talented

in the cooking department.”

“You're talented in other areas.”

She stopped chewing and glared at him.

He had a hard time not smiling at the anger in her

eyes. “You're a great horse trainer.”

“Oh.” She dropped her gaze to her plate. “Thanks.”

She continued eating with an enthusiasm that

amazed him. Then again, who knew when she last had a

meal?

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Dead Heat

After she took her last bite, Jenna squirmed in her

chair. He made no effort to ease her tension.

“Can we go for a walk?” she asked. “I'm not sure I can

go back to sleep right away.”

“Sounds good to me.”

She sprang from her chair. “I'll do the dishes.”

He picked up plates and silverware. “Leave them in

the sink for now.” No need to mention that a maid cleaned

the cottages each morning. “You'll need a jacket. There's

one somewhere in that pile of clothes.”

Clouds dimmed the moonlight and a fine mist filtered

through the air when they stepped outside. Rye used a

flashlight to light their way along the path through the

woods. He could walk the trail blindfolded, but wanted to

make sure Jenna felt comfortable. They circled around the

front of the house and headed to the paddocks and barns.

“You've got quite a spread here,” Jenna commented.

“How long have you owned this?”

“About eight years. I was lucky enough to get my

hands on a proven stud. He made me a lot of money in a

short period of time.”

“Rushing River?”

This woman's knowledge of thoroughbreds continued

to astonish him. “Wow. I'm impressed. Been doing some

research?”

She shook her head, and her hair brushed against his

arm, giving him a clean scent of shampoo. “My father

mentioned the horse several times. He's done well. Do you

board racetrack turnouts here also? Or is it strictly a

breeding farm?”

“Just a breeding farm as far as the public is

concerned. I've got enough of my own turnouts to deal

with.” He stopped and gestured to the right. “Here's the

main office. Looks like someone's still here.” Curious

about who'd still be working at this hour, he took Jenna's

arm and steered her toward the lit building.

“Rye!” Pete Jones jumped from behind the desk like

he'd been caught looking at pornography on the internet.

“What are you doing here at this time of night?”

“I was just about to ask you the same question.”

The old foreman's weathered face turned gray, and

he shuffled papers on the desk. “I was checking on horses

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due to return to the track in the next few weeks.”

Although the excuse sounded plausible, Rye knew

Pete too well. Something was off. “I'm showing Jenna

around the farm, so you head to bed. I'll close up here.” He

drew Jenna forward. “Have you met my foreman, Pete?”

Pete stepped forward and eagerly held out his hand.

“Glad to meet you, Jenna. Welcome aboard.”

“Thank you.”

“Well, I'll leave you two to finish your tour.” Pete

made a hasty exit out the door.

“What was that all about?” Jenna asked.

“I wish I knew.” Rye moved behind the desk and

checked out the computer. The next day's race card

showed on the screen; each race, all the horses entered,

their post positions and expected starting odds. He

sighed. Nothing strange about that. Because of all the

weird happenings, he must be seeing boogey men where

none existed.

“Let's head back to the cottage.”

Rye walked the return trip on autopilot, his mind

preoccupied with Pete's strange behavior. Pete lived on

the farm, but his job was foreman at the track.

“Rye? Hello?”

A hand waved in front of his face, jolting him from

his thoughts. “What? Sorry. I didn't hear you.”

“I can see that. What's on your mind?”

He dragged himself back to the here and now,

surprised they’d already arrived. “Business.”

He swung open the door and motioned for Jenna to

enter. With a quick goodnight, she left him standing in

the hall.

“Damn,” he muttered, looking at the couch. Eight

more hours of his feet dangling over the arm.

He'd just shed his shirt when Jenna's ear splitting

scream echoed throughout the small cottage.

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Dead Heat

Rye knocked over the end table in his rush to get to

Jenna. Cowering in a corner, she repeatedly wiped her

hands on her thighs, leaving streaks of blood on the

denim. Her gaze remained glued to the bathtub. He

pulled out his cell and called his brother. “Get down here.

Now!”

He reached out slowly and curled his hand around

her shoulder. “Sshhh,” he whispered. “It's all right, baby.”

She slapped his hand away, her eyes wild with fear

or grief. He couldn't tell which.

“All right? It's not all right. Things will never be

right again.”

He walked to the bathtub. His stomach lurched and

he fought not to gag. A dark bay horse head rested on the

bottom of the tub, bringing to mind a grotesque facsimile

of a taxidermy project. Blood dribbled from the severed

neck onto the white enamel and trickled down the drain.

A large white blaze ran down the horse's nose — a blaze

identical to Rising Sun's. Jesus. No wonder Jenna

crumbled. No. It’s impossible. He’d hired excellent men to

guard Rising Sun twenty-four hours a day.

Ignoring Jenna's efforts to push him away, he

gathered her close and steered her out of the bathroom.

“Don't jump to conclusions. Rising Sun's safe. No one

could take him off the track.” Perhaps his words

penetrated through the wall of fear because her sobs

gradually subsided and ended as hiccups.