HORSES AND HEROIN (Romantic Mystery) (27 page)

She shot Scott a wary smile, and he forgot his frustration and smiled back. Obviously she’d found the horse a home. Five minutes later, she pressed the button to disconnect and gave a delighted fist pump.

“That lady owned Rambo five years ago,” she said. “Once he dropped into claiming ranks, she lost track of him. Apparently he was always tough to gallop but very professional in a race. He won almost a quarter million for her family. They have a field set aside for their retirees and even made a little pond so older horses can stay cool.” Her smile widened. “He’s welcome anytime.”

“Good work, Megan. You saved him. If he bucked riders off in Mexico, he wouldn’t have lasted long.”

Her face shadowed at the mention of Mexico, and he reached out and took her hand. “Come on.” He led her down the hall and into the newly created office. Flipped open Joey’s file.

“My assistant, Belinda, did some checking. There’s no evidence Joey ever crossed the border back into California. Garrett is fairly certain he saw Joey club Rex.” She started to protest, but he gently pressed his finger against her mouth.

“There was also a break-in at Lydia’s villa,” he went on, “where the only item stolen was Joey’s iPod. So he either crossed the border illegally or is operating under some other ID. I want to question your friend, Eve. See if she knows any of Joey’s contacts. And I want to call his parents.”

“I can talk to his parents,” she said quickly, her fingers tightening around his hand. “Please, let me do that. I’d like to help.”

He paused. Often it was how people spoke or what they didn’t say, but she was squeezing his hand like a lifeline, and they’d probably find Joey creeping around Eve’s dorm anyway. Besides, when Megan looked at him with those big brown eyes, how could he refuse?

“All right,” he said, “but you’ll have to work from this office. All paperwork and files stay here. This villa has excellent security.”

“Certainly.” She nodded gravely. “And I’ll try to get a picture of Miguel’s tattoos. I don’t know if I can see Ramon without a shirt though.”

“Leave Miguel and Ramon alone for now.” His hand tightened possessively. She was far too enthusiastic. Ramon was too taciturn for an easy read but Miguel eyeballed girls like they were candy.

“But Ramon said Joey deserted the horses.” She pressed her lips together. “We need to find out if he’s lying. There must be ways of checking Ramon’s background…if someone knew what they were doing.”

She looked up at him, so transparent he sighed in resignation. Like it or not, Joey Collins’ investigation had begun in earnest.

Belinda was going to be livid.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Rex whined and licked Megan’s hand, his tail thumping in delight.

“That’s the happiest I’ve seen him,” the technician said, smiling at Scott. “He’s doing well though. He may have a tiny limp, but Dr. MacLeod says there’s so much callus forming, he’ll never break his leg in that spot again. It’s unfortunate she didn’t know you were coming. She would have demonstrated the infrared treatment.”

“We’ll come again,” Scott said. “It’s obvious Rex likes to see Megan.”

The dog was certainly happy to see her, but Megan doubted the technician noticed. The little blonde hadn’t pulled her big eyes off Scott and was practically rubbing her boobs in his chest.

“Here’s my number,” the technician said, pressing a card in Scott’s hand. “If you’re driving through after hours, call me at home and I’ll be happy to meet you at the clinic. You too, Mrs. Baldwin,” she said as an afterthought, although she didn’t pass Megan a business card.

“This is Megan Spence.” Scott curved a hand around Megan’s waist. “And she’s certainly not married to Garrett.”

It was rather insulting how emphatic he spoke, as though she wasn’t good enough for Garrett.

“I just thought Megan was the owner since the dog likes her so much,” the technician said, fumbling with Rex’s chart.

“Everyone likes her,” Scott said. He kept his hand on Megan’s hip and shot her one of his intimate smiles, the kind that crinkled the corners of his eyes and filled her with a rush of awareness.

And then she understood. He wasn’t trying to belittle her. He was just marking his territory. And he wasn’t a flirt. He’d blocked the technician’s advances as effectively as he had Lydia’s and the other fawning students. Likely he wasn’t the type to desert a family either.

On the other hand when he did leave, he’d be hard to forget. Maybe impossible. It had taken her mother ten years to recover, and her dad hadn’t been much of a man. Someone like Scott could really leave a woman reeling.

He was studying her, as though picking up on her misgivings. She yanked her attention back to Rex. “When will he be able to go home?” she asked the technician.

“Oh, he’s ready now. But Garrett asked that he stay so he can receive the light and magnet treatment. It’s expensive but speeds healing.”

Rex pressed his dark muzzle over Megan’s arm, his eyes imploring. She stroked his head, torn by his silent but heart-rending plea. She didn’t want to walk out and leave him in this sterile clinic with the white lights and strong disinfectant and yowling cats.

“We can come back,” Scott said quietly. “Tomorrow night if you’re free.”

It was unwise to spend too much time with Scott, but Rex clearly enjoyed her visit and she hated to leave the dog. He seemed to think she was deserting him—and that was a horrible feeling. However, she had one more thing to do. Still rubbing the base of his ear, she pulled Joey’s shirt from her purse.

She waited, almost afraid to breathe, but Rex didn’t react. He simply stared at her with liquid brown eyes, as though realizing she was going but he still loved her anyway. Her heart cracked.

She stuffed the shirt back into her purse. “See you soon, fellow,” she whispered, then turned and fled from the room. She wasn’t tough enough to look back.

She hurried to the car, waiting while Scott unlocked the door.

“Okay super sleuth,” he said, as he eased the vehicle from the curb. “Whose shirt did you have?”

“Joey’s. It was an old one Eve gave me. Don’t you think Rex would have reacted if it had been Joey who did the bashing?”

“Maybe the scent was too faint.”

“There would have been something. Eve said she hadn’t washed it. And Rex didn’t even twitch. He just wanted me to take him home.”

“I imagine you’re used to that,” he said.

She jerked back against the headrest. He was the one who had women giving their phone numbers, and she expected a little more credit for thinking of the shirt. “Come on,” she said. “Admit it. Rex didn’t react to Joey’s shirt. No growl, no flinch, no whine. Nothing.”

“No, he didn’t react,” Scott admitted. “But it doesn’t prove anything. Animals are notoriously unreliable.”

“But if he growled at a shirt, that would mean something, right?”

“It would give us an indication, yes,” he said, rather reluctantly. He reached over and grabbed her hand. “But I don’t want you running around collecting men’s shirts. Or taking pictures of tattoos. Let me look after this while you concentrate on your courses.”

He spoke about legalities and court issues and a bunch of other stuff but his thumb was rubbing the underside of her wrist, and she always found it hard to concentrate when he touched her. Soon she’d be panting like one of his damn groupies.

“So, what would you like to eat?” He released her hand and turned down the town’s main street. “Garrett said there’re a couple nice restaurants along this strip.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, trying to summon up some enthusiasm. She was more exhausted than hungry and never much liked sitting in stuffy restaurants. However, he seemed determined to keep her close. He was probably angling for another marathon sex session, while she needed to escape and re-erect her crumbling defenses.

The horses couldn’t be used as an excuse since Tami had offered to feed them in exchange for washing her clothes. One thing for sure, Megan was sleeping in her own bed tonight. Her emotions were too frayed, and she needed to regroup. There wasn’t any room for Scott. The problem was she owed him…and she hated owing people.

“You can pick,” she said, gesturing as they passed an attractive seafood house with stained glass windows and a statue of a huge marlin. “Any place you want. I’ll pay.”

“Absolutely not.”

His words came out clipped, and she glanced sideways. His eyes had narrowed and his mouth was clamped in a thin line. She hadn’t meant to insult him, but clearly she had.

She folded her hands on her lap. “I just thought that because you were working for me, helping to find Joey, that it made sense that I buy dinner.”

“Really? Is that what this is about?” He raised an eyebrow and whipped the car in a sharp left.

He was too savvy, and she sighed and pressed her shoulders against the seat. “And then I thought you could drive me home and I wouldn’t feel like we needed to have sex,” she said miserably. “I’m sorry.”

His jaw still looked like it was carved from granite, and her throat felt just as tight.

“You’ve never slept with someone,” he asked, “and not had sex?”

No
. But she crossed her arms and gave a disdainful sniff. “We both know that’s the main reason people sleep together. And I’m just too tired tonight.”

He picked up the phone and ordered a pizza but didn’t ask what she wanted on it, so she guessed he was truly annoyed. He stopped at a pizza joint next to a secondhand car dealer and ten minutes later reappeared with a large white box.

He dropped it on her lap but it was much too hot, so she moved it to the floor.

The drive back was silent but not uncomfortable. He didn’t turn the music on and neither of them spoke. The smell from the pizza filled the car, making her mouth water, and she realized she was rather hungry after all.

It made sense to eat a slice or two before she went home, although maybe he was too pissed to give her any. Guys sometimes turned sulky when things didn’t go their way.

He pulled into the driveway of his villa. “You can pay half. Ten bucks,” he said. “Dry your clothes, eat and then I’ll take you home.”

She nodded, rather relieved he was going to share before sending her home. Her stomach rumbled now and there was certainly enough pizza for two.

She followed him into his villa, detouring to the washer where her clothes waited in a soggy clump. She pulled them out and tossed them into the dryer then walked into the kitchen, following the inviting smell.

She climbed up on a stool. He slid a pizza slice in front of her, a thick piece loaded with cheese and meat and vegetables, and it was clear he hadn’t skimped on the ingredients.

Two glasses sat on the counter, loaded with Coke and ice, and she took a grateful sip. Sputtered in shock.

“What’s in this?” she choked, wiping her mouth. “Rum?”

“You’re acting like a guy, so tonight you get a guy’s drink.”

“Fair enough,” she said, so thirsty she took another sip before biting into the pizza. It was only lukewarm now but still delicious. They chewed silently with Scott topping up their drinks while she cut them both another slice.

“I didn’t know I was hungry until I smelled it,” she said.

“You missed a few meals today.”

He didn’t sound quite so pissed, and she gave a cautious smile. “So did you. And you had to deal with Rambo, not the most relaxing ride.” She studied him over the rim of her glass. “Eve might be able to handle that horse,” she admitted, “but I definitely can’t.”

“So why did you offer to take her place?”

His incisive gaze drilled into hers and she shifted on the stool, struggling to think. However, the pizza, the alcohol and her bone deep weariness bogged down her brain, and she couldn’t think of a plausible excuse that wasn’t a lie. “That’s really between Eve and me,” she said. “And her friendship is important. Could I have a little more rum?”

He obligingly poured a generous amount of amber fluid into her glass, followed up with a splash of Coke then rinsed the dishes, ignoring her attempts to help. Finally she gave up and simply propped her elbows on the table, sipped her drink and tried not to yawn.

He wiped the counter, studying her face, then tossed the dishcloth in the sink. “Come on,” he said, snagging his glass and the bottle.

She followed him into the living room, pausing to listen for the dryer. Still whirring. Three pairs of Tami’s jeans, two of hers, a bunch of shirts and underwear—drying would probably take another twenty minutes and then she’d leave, despite what Scott wanted.

Actually, he didn’t seem to care that she wasn’t staying. He’d turned on the TV and watched intently as a massive guy with no neck explained to a pretty interviewer why he was retiring. She hesitated, wondering if she should just leave and pick up the clothes in the morning.

“Sit down.” He patted the sofa beside him. “Ever watch much football?”

“No.” She hit the coffee table with her knee and sat down, feeling unusually clumsy.

“Ever had a boyfriend who watched it?” he asked, managing to refill their drinks without shifting his attention from the screen.

She held her glass up against the light, studying the ice cubes and the marks her fingers left on the condensation. “I never had much time for television or sports.”
Or boyfriends
. “It’s been really busy, trying to get established,” she added.

“Really busy, but you left it for jock school?”

She shot him a wary look but he seemed engrossed in the screen, not paying her much attention. “Yes, well I heard a lot of things about this school.” She took another sip, surprised the rum was going down so easily. Normally she preferred wine. “And it’s good to do that kind of stuff, you know, when you can.”

“When you can?” He glanced sideways, his eyes gliding over her face. “What do you mean?”

“It’s good to go away, do things before you have other commitments, like kids and stuff.” She waved a hand, almost spilling her drink. “You know, people shouldn’t take off when they have commitments. They should be dependable.”

He turned from the television, even though the people seemed to be sharing a hilarious joke, and pried the glass from her hand. “So that’s why you’re so skittish,” he said.