Microsoft Word - DeadHeat_wrp356.doc (17 page)

lovemaking. “Let's forget it.”

“Not if you feel that I somehow betrayed you.” Rye

caught her arm when she veered away from him.

“Look, it's history as far as I'm concerned. What's

done is done. Let's just move on from here.” Jenna shot

him a look warning him to drop the subject.

The silence in the car became unbearable. Big fat

raindrops splattered the windshield, forcing Rye to turn

on the wipers. Within seconds, the downpour made

visibility impossible. He pulled the SUV to the side of the

road and shifted into park with more force than

necessary.

“No sense taking your anger out on the vehicle,”

Jenna barked.

“I'm not angry at you. I'm just sick of the whole

mess.”

“Tell you what. As soon as we get back to the farm,

loan me a car, and I'll get out of your hair.”

He looked at her, his eyes wide in disbelief. “What

part about somebody's trying to kill you don't you

understand?”

“I have friends I can stay with. I don't have to depend

on you to keep the boogie man away.” She knew how

obstinate she sounded but couldn't seem to control herself.

“And if your brother doesn't like that option, then he can

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stay with me at my place. My couch makes into a bed.”

If anything, his eyes grew wider before narrowing to

the size of blue diamond chips. “That's not going to

happen. Besides, if you remember, your place is trashed.”

As quick as it started, the rain stopped, and a horn

blew behind them. Jenna looked over her shoulder. “Brett

wants to go.”

Rye started the engine and drove. Jenna wondered if

the open wound in their tentative friendship could be

healed.

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Jenna sat crossed-legged, yoga-style, in the middle of

the bed, surrounded by piles of notebooks and loose

papers. After four hours of combing through her father's

paperwork, her back ached and her eyes burned. She was

exhausted. From the corner of her eye she watched Rye

peruse a letter he'd removed from an envelope. A deep

frown furrowed his brow. Funny, she didn't remember her

father receiving letters in the mail. Just the usual junk

mail and bills.

“Is that letter to my father?”

Rye glanced at her, his eyes icy blue. She almost

shivered. Her own anger over their disagreement had

dissipated, and she'd hoped his had too. Obviously, not

the case.

“It's addressed to him,” he said, handing her the

envelope.

Curiosity overrode the fear of making him angrier.

“Who's it from?”

“A woman named Laura.”

The blood rushed to Jenna's head, then trickled down

to her feet. Laura was her mother's name. Had her father

lied about her mother being dead? Of course not. Why

would he lie about something as important as that? She

dropped the papers and clasped her hands together to

stop the trembling.

“Jenna?” Rye's voice sounded far away. “Are you all

right?”

The mattress squeaked when he sat beside her. She

forced her gaze to his face. “I'm okay,” she whispered.

“Laura was my mother's name. For a moment, I

thought...thought perhaps the letter was from her.”

“I think it is,” Rye said. Jenna thought she heard

reluctance in his tone.

She swallowed hard and reached out to grasp his

arm, her nails digging into him. “What are you saying?”

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He handed her the letter written on thin parchment

paper. “Read it for yourself.”

With trepidation, Jenna took it from Rye's hand. The

words blurred in front of her eyes. She blinked several

times and concentrated on bringing the writing into focus.

Dear Joe,

I'm sure you're shocked to hear from

me after all these years. I felt it best to

disappear after the accident that took my

Danny's life. Though Danny was taken

away from me, he left me with a son,

which brings me to the reason for my

letter.

I know better than to expect you to

help me out of love or kindness. After all, I

walked out on you and Jenna so long ago.

My son owes Rafael Montega a large sum

of money. The mob's willing to make a

deal. They'll accept a guaranteed horse

race win in lieu of the cash he owes.

Sometime in the next two weeks, on a

day that you have a horse running that is

the favorite in the pari-mutuels, you'll be

contacted a few hours before post time.

Make sure your horse loses that race.

By now you're wondering if I've lost

my mind. You're probably asking why you

should do this for my son. If you fail to

cooperate, Jenna's life will be in grave

danger. I trust you to do the right thing.

Always,

Laura

The letter fluttered to the bedspread, implication of

its contents whirling in her head like clothes in the spin

cycle of a washing machine.

Rye pulled her toward him. She stiffened and leaned

away. “Jenna?”

She flinched. Not only did she have to wrap her mind

around the knowledge that her mother was alive, but that

she had a half brother. The letter had been mailed right

here in Lexington over six months ago. This woman and

her son could be anywhere by now. On the other side of

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the world, or still in Lexington.

Why hadn't her father shared this information? Did

her mother have something to do with her father's death?

What kind of mother would protect one of her children at

the expense of the other?

Rye gently shook her shoulder. “Come back to me.”

She gave him her attention. “I can hardly believe

this.” “Yeah,” he agreed. “It's quite a shock. Could be an

important break in the case.”

Jenna gave a bitter laugh. “Great. Not only do I

discover my mother is still alive, I have to accept the fact

that she might be a cold-blooded killer, or at the very

least involved with one.”

Rye pulled her into his arms. “Come here, baby.”

Jenna went without protest, cuddling into his

warmth. Relief spread through her. He'd put their

argument aside for now. Ripples of sexual awareness

battled with her need for comfort. “I'm sorry, Rye. You got

more than you bargained for when you agreed to do your

brother a favor.”

“Don't worry about it,” he murmured, his breath

warm in her hair.

Jenna pulled away, determined to be strong. “I've

been thinking that I'll ask Dani if I can share her

apartment for the time being.”

“Is this place so terrible? What can I do to make you

feel more at home?”

How could she tell him that she wanted to leave

because being around him was driving her crazy? Living

in the same house with a man she knew she had no future

with, but wanted to make love to, pushed her beyond her

ability to endure. “It's not that.” She fiddled with the

bedspread. “I think it'd be better for both of us if I left.”

“Because we want each other?”

Jenna gawked, taken aback that he'd so baldly laid

the reason on the table. “I...that's part of it,” she finally

said. Gathering courage, she met his gaze and found a

mixture of humor and understanding sparkling in his

eyes. His voice was gentle. “I've promised to keep my

hands to myself. What else can I do to put you at ease?”

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It's not you, it's me. I don't think I can keep my hands

off you.
“Nothing. Really, you've been great. But I can't

stay here indefinitely.”

“Let's give it a week and see what happens.”

Put like that, she'd feel like an ingrate if she refused

his hospitality. She nodded her agreement.

Setting Laura's letter aside, they returned to sorting

through the numerous boxes of files. Jenna came across

the journal of Cash A Bet's daily training record. With

eagerness laced with trepidation, she studied the daily

entries. The horse had been slowly conditioned for the

race, only galloping for five straight days, with the

distance increased each day. Two days before the race, her

father had the horse worked five furlongs and written

that Cash A Bet had responded well. The Daily Racing

Form reported the horse had worked the five furlongs

handily. Then, the horse walked the next morning and

again the morning of the race. Nothing unusual there.

That was standard training for her father. One of his

notes in the margin caught her eye.
“Should win with no

problem.”

A sickening feeling settled in her stomach, and she

groaned out loud.

Rye's head snapped up. “What is it?”

She slapped her hand on the page of the book. “Proof

that my father fixed the race. I wonder how he did it?”

“You can't be surprised after reading your mother's

letter. My God, Jenna, your father loved you. He'd have

done anything to keep you safe.”

Rye's words had no effect on the battle taking place

in her stomach. It lurched in an effort to fend off waves of

nausea. Further down the page, she came across her

father's notes for Cash A Bet the day following the race.

'Horse disappointed. Stayed in the pack and hung.' Was

this her father's way of covering his tracks? She noticed

that her mother's letter arrived ten days before the day

Cash A Bet raced.

“Joey Hernandez rode Cash A Bet that day. I'm going

to talk to him tomorrow.”

“You think that's a good idea? What if he's on Rafael

Montega's payroll?”

Jenna shook her head. “I don't think so. I know Joey.

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He's a solid family man. He wouldn't get involved in that

sort of thing.”

“You can't know that. Look what happened to your

father.”

A loud sigh rose from deep in her lungs. “I'm

beginning to believe you think I'm totally helpless. I've

taken care of myself for twenty-seven years without you

sitting on my shoulder, monitoring my every move.”

As she glared at him, the eye contact electrified the

air around them. Rye's eyes darkened with desire. Jenna

drew in a sharp breath. Of its own accord, her body

leaned into his.

A knock on the door ended the moment.

Brett walked in and plunked down in the chair,

crossing his feet at the ankles. “Find anything

interesting?”

Jenna pretended to go through the daily entries

while Rye told him about the letter and journal. She'd

been about to kiss Rye. How pathetic was that? More

determined than ever to leave this house, she prayed the

next seven days would fly by. Until then, she'd go to work

early, come home late and go straight to her room.

Hopefully, Rye still planned to loan her a car so she

wouldn't have to ride back and forth with him every day.

Brett's question dragged her into the conversation.

“Do you want to find your mother and half-brother?”

Now wasn't that the question of the day? Did she?

“I'm not sure, but if you need a yes or no answer this

instant, it's no.” She pushed a swathe of hair out of her

face and looked at Brett. “My mother has known how to

contact me for twenty-seven years, and she's chosen not to

do so. Why should I search her out?”

“Good point,” Brett conceded. “Let me rephrase the

question. When we find her, and we will, are you prepared

emotionally to meet her?”

Jenna leaned back on the pillows, careful to keep her

body away from Rye. “I'll deal with it when the time

arrives.”

Brett rose from the chair. “Fair enough. Dinner's

ready. Millie is waiting for you two before serving.”

At the mention of food, Jenna's stomach growled loud

enough to be heard by both men. Rye laughed and got up.

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“Sounds like you're ready to eat.”

****

he could figure her out. One minute her eyes blatantly

told him she wanted him as much as he wanted her. The

next, she shied away like a frightened filly. Women.

Sometimes he wondered why he bothered.

But Jenna wasn't just any woman. What was it about

her that haunted him? Could it be those gray eyes that

changed color with her moods? Like thunder clouds when

she was angry and almost translucent as wisps of fog in

the throes of passion? Since the morning he'd walked up

to her as she leaned against the fence watching Rising

Sun, his life had turned upside down. Seldom did an hour

pass without thoughts of her popping into his head. And

physically, forget it. He'd never lusted after any woman

the way he did her.

Few women he knew would be able to handle the

cards that had been dealt to Jenna. No matter what came

her way, she kept on going.

Millie arrived at one end of the table, carrying two