Microsoft Word - DeadHeat_wrp356.doc (15 page)

even if Brett hadn't knocked on the door.
Yeah right,

Jenna
. Another two minutes and you would have been flat

on your back with your legs wrapped around his waist.

The past few days seemed surreal. Someone had

knocked her over the head, blown up her car, and killed a

beautiful horse to scare her. Regardless of Rye's

disapproval, she had to speak with Charles. Living life

afraid of shadows would slowly destroy her.

By the time she stepped onto the bathroom tiles,

Jenna had made some decisions. Once she checked on

Rising Sun, she'd go to her apartment for the key to the

storage unit where she'd stashed her father's belongings.

After gathering all his files and paperwork, she'd arrange

a meeting with Charles. A feeling of satisfaction rolled

over her. She'd put herself back in control. With a burst of

energy, she grabbed a thick towel and hurriedly wiped her

body. She squeezed a huge amount of white tea

moisturizing lotion in her palm and rubbed it into her

arms and legs. The bottle had been on a shelf, hidden

behind some men's shaving products. Somehow she

doubted it belonged to Rye.

Quickly braiding her unruly hair, she flinched as she

accidentally touched her injury. The cut she'd sustained a

few nights ago still bothered if she poked at it. She

dressed in the jeans and T-shirt Rye had left and rushed

down the stairs, anxious to get to the track. Her euphoria

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plummeted when she rounded the corner and saw Brett

sitting at the table alone.

“Good morning. I hope you were able to sleep after

your ordeal.” Brett poured himself more coffee.

Was that sarcasm in his voice? She rested her hands

on the back of a chair. “Yes, thank you. Where's Rye?”

“He left for the track about thirty minutes ago.”

“Without me?” Jenna's fingers curled into the wood.

“That bastard. Wait till I get my hands on him.”

“Blame me. I wanted you to stay away from the track

today.”

She reined in her anger at Rye. “Why?”

“To keep the enemy guessing your whereabouts. Also

I want to talk to you. Pick your mind. Perhaps find out

why you're a target.”

Her gaze swept the table, and her stomach growled

with hunger. The aroma of bacon made her mouth water.

Without acknowledging Brett's comment, she sat and

filled her plate with food. Brett handed her a cup of coffee.

“Thank you.”

After several bites, Jenna set her fork on the table.

“Do you have any more information about the horse that

was killed?”

“No. The rest of the body was found in the woods on

the property. Did Charles Kincaid tell you why he wanted

Rising Sun?”

“No. I didn't ask or give him an opportunity to tell me

anything. I'm willing to talk to him to see what I can find

out.” Brett laughed. “My brother nixed the idea.”

“I'm my own person.”

Brett's eyes narrowed, his intent gaze making her

squirm in her chair. “We'll discuss Kincaid later. Right

now I'd like to ask you some questions about your father.”

The negative vibrations coming from Brett riled

Jenna. Did he suspect she was involved in this crime, or

did he dislike her because of the attraction between her

and his brother? Jenna sighed and settled in her chair,

prepared for a long uncomfortable grilling session.

Two hours later, they hadn’t moved. Millie had

cleared away the breakfast dishes and brought a fresh pot

of coffee. Brett studied the notes he'd been taking.

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Jenna swallowed a yawn. “Do you have any more

questions?”

“One more. What's your opinion of Jamal?”

Now that was a question she'd asked herself more

than once. “My gut says he knows more than he's willing

to admit. He knew what Dimitri was doing to make

Tsunami fractious. I've no doubt that he loves the horse,

so I don't understand why he didn't tell Rye. I asked him

once, but he clammed up.” She shrugged. “Perhaps he's

been warned to keep his mouth shut and he's afraid.”

Brett's pen flew over the paper, and then he closed

the notebook. “Thanks.”

A cloud of guilt settled over Jenna. Why hadn't she

told him she planned to search through her father's

papers? “My head aches. I'm going upstairs.” After a few

steps, she paused and turned. “I'd like to have my own

room, if that's not too much trouble.”

His eyebrows rose. “Really? I would have thought

you'd be comfortable right where you are.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Then you thought wrong.”

“I know what's going on between you and my brother.

There's no need to pretend otherwise.”

Anger churned inside Jenna and threatened to

explode. She took several deep breaths. Hands on her

hips, she stared into Brett's eyes — eyes the same color as

Rye's, but so different. Rye's eyes were sexy, passionate

and teasing, Brett's cold, unfriendly and full of suspicion.

“For some reason you don't like me. I want to know why.”

His eyes narrowed. “You're right. I don't like you. My

brother's a good catch for someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” Jenna's fury rose. “Exactly what

does that mean?”

Jenna whirled around at the sound of Rye's voice.

“Yes, Brett, explain yourself. I'd like to hear the answer to

that myself.”

The anger oozing from Rye doused her fire. At all

costs, she wanted to avoid being a thorn between the two

brothers.

Trying for a light tone, she said, “Where are your

manners, Rye? Didn't your mother teach you not to

eavesdrop on conversations?”

Brett assumed an air of innocence. “Jenna just told

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me she wanted her own room.”

Rye pinned his gaze on her. “Is that true?”

“Yes, I think...”

“Take the one next to mine,” he interrupted

brusquely.

Jenna opened her mouth to ask for a room at the

other end of the hall when her cell rang. She fished it out

of her pocket. “Hello?”

“Did you think you could hide at Cameron's house?”

The same distorted voice as before croaked in her ear. The

cell phone display read 'number unavailable'. She hurried

to stand in between the two men. The three of them

huddled together.

“I don't know what you're talking about. Who is

this?”

“You'll find out soon enough. Did you like my little

present?”

“You're insane.”

“By the time I'm done with you, 'insanity' will have

new meaning. You'll get the surprise of your life before I

kill you.”

Jenna's heart skipped several beats. The phone went

dead before her brain could come up with a response.

She glanced at Rye, surprised at his paleness. “Well,”

she said, striving to remain calm. “I guess we know what

he plans for me.”

“This is beginning to sound like a personal vendetta

against you, Jenna,” Brett commented. The lines in his

brows told her he was one perplexed FBI agent.

She turned to Rye. “I need the car you said you'd lend

me. I've got some errands to run.”

“I'll drive you,” Rye's tone was clipped. “I don't think

you should be alone until this maniac is locked up.”

Jenna wanted to argue, but he was right. And better

to go with him, than Brett. “Fine. I'll be ready in ten

minutes.”

****

“Cut the small talk, Brett. What the hell were you

saying to Jenna when I walked in?”

Brett shrugged. “She asked why I didn't like her. I

told her.”

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“Jesus. I'm not going to waste my breath trying to

convince you Jenna's not after my money. It seems

unimportant compared to the phone call she just

received.”

“I agree. Something's not right, but I can't put my

finger on it. She says she doesn't have any enemies. I

believe her.”

“You actually believe her? I'm shocked,” Rye said

with a significant lifting of his brows.

“Look.” Brett pushed his chair back and stood. “Just

because I don't trust her as a woman, doesn't mean I

think she's a criminal.”

“Whatever,” Rye muttered and left the table to go

find Jenna.

Damn! He wished Jenna hadn't asked for her own

room. If Brett hadn't interrupted this morning, they'd be

lovers now. Then perhaps he could start thinking with the

head on his shoulders, rather than the one below his belt.

He hadn't wanted a woman this bad since he was sixteen

and lusted after the eighteen-year-old daughter of one of

his father's clients.

Rye walked into his room and shut the door. The

fragrance of the lotion Jenna had used that morning still

lingered in the room. Memories of a former lover crossed

his mind. A niggling inner voice told him that Jenna

wouldn't be as easy to love and leave as the last woman

who'd spent the night here and used that same lotion.

Something about Jenna tugged at him. They shared

a love of thoroughbreds. She had a great sense of humor

and didn't take herself too seriously, unlike most women

he knew.

Still lost in his thoughts, he took a shower, then

shaved. Wrapping a towel around his middle, he walked

back in the bedroom.

Jenna sat on the end of his bed, a wide smile on her

face. “Do you always sing My Old Kentucky Home in the

shower?”

He walked over to her, stopping just before his knees

touched hers. “Not if I know I have an audience.”

She grew restless, scurrying away out of his way. “I'll

wait downstairs.”

“Good idea, unless you want to finish what we

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started this morning.”

Laughter rolled from his mouth when she scurried

out of the room.

Damn. As much fun as he had baiting Jenna, the

game he played could easily turn on him. All sense of

reason fled around her, leaving him vulnerable to

emotions he'd been determined to keep at bay.

A thump in the next room told him Jenna had yet to

go downstairs. While he dressed, he concentrated on

business at hand. Jenna planned to work both Rising Sun

and Tsunami in the near future. He had to convince her to

work them together without arousing her suspicions.

The more he saw of Rising Sun, the more convinced

he was that Tsunami would win the race if the two ran

together. Tsunami was a powerhouse coming from behind

down the homestretch. Rising Sun would shoot out of the

gate like a bullet and keep the lead, tiring the rest of the

field. The stretch run might be a little tense, but Rye was

confident Tsunami could overtake Rising Sun.

A twinge of guilt pricked his conscience. Jenna had

high expectations for her horse and would flip if she

caught wind of his plan. Using a front running horse to

pave the way for a come from behind runner wasn't

illegal. As a matter of fact, it was a common practice. The

businessman pushed the guilt aside. He straightened his

shoulders and left the room, trying to decide how best to

approach Jenna with the idea.

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“Where to?” Rye asked Jenna as he slowed the SUV

at the end of the driveway.

“My apartment. I want to get some clothes and the

key to the storage unit.”

Rye glanced at her, his brows raised, an unasked

question in his eyes.

Jenna's fingers rubbed the leather seat in the SUV.

How much should she tell him? Finally, she blurted, “Can

I trust you?”

Rye hesitated before answering. “That's a

complicated question. It depends.”

“On what?”

“On what you tell me. If tell me that you hit yourself

over the head, then dragged Dimitri...”

His blue eyes twinkled.

“Very funny.”

“Sorry, I couldn't resist. What's your deep, dark

secret?”

“I don't want your brother to know about it yet. Not

until I go through everything first.”

“Spill it. You're driving me crazy.”

Two deer, a doe and a fawn, bolted from the marsh

grass beside the road. Rye slammed on the brakes. If not

for the seatbelt, Jenna would have hit the dash. A

warmth spread through her, watching the fawn. All legs

and big eyes, he couldn't have been more than a few days

old. “I see you're not a hunter,” Rye joked when the SUV

moved forward. “There's a maternal look in your eyes.

“Guilty,” she admitted with a smile. “You have to

agree, there's something special about babies.”

“They're cute, as long as they're not mine.”

Jenna snuck a look from the corner of her eye. Why

had his words hurt?
Get a grip. You heard him. No babies

in this man's future. He wasn't the marrying kind. Accept

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it. Put your train of thought on another track headed to a

different destination.

“Hello? You still with me?”

“Sorry, I was thinking about babies.”
Stew on that for

a while.
“My father's belongings are stashed in a rented