HORSES AND HEROIN (Romantic Mystery) (38 page)

She hesitated and at that moment Eve looked up. Her face broke into a huge smile and Megan stopped worrying. Whatever Eve had decided was the right choice. She no longer looked mournful but happy, almost…light.

“I’m so glad you came.” Eve dropped the hose and flung her free arm around Megan’s neck. “Sorry I’ve been avoiding you,” she said. “It took a little time to get my head straight.”

Megan ignored the cold water spraying her leg and hugged Eve back.

“And now you caught me doing a groom’s job.” Eve shrugged, slightly sheepish as she stepped back and rescued the wayward hose. “This is Marshall. He’s running in the second race today. Jack has assigned me three of his quietest horses.”

Marshall definitely looked like a sensible horse. He hadn’t minded when the hose dropped, spraying his belly and Megan’s legs with cold water. But Eve? A groom? At the school, the jockeys had all considered the grooms a notch or two below.

“He looks great,” Megan said cautiously. “Maybe Jack will give you a shot at galloping him some time?”

“He sure will, but not right now.” Eve smoothed the front of her shirt and gestured at the graphic—a picture of a big bellied mare, grazing contentedly.

Megan’s eyes widened. That was one very fat mare. It must mean… She sucked in a breath, feeling almost lightheaded. “You’re having the baby?”

“I am.” Eve beamed. “I had a fall last week and it terrified me. Jack said I could stay on and work as a groom—he really is a decent guy—and then start galloping when I’m ready.”

“I can babysit!”

“And I’ll be asking for your help,” Eve said. “But my mother is on board and there’s a great daycare close by. Jack said it’s better if I learn everything from the ground up. He said nothing is better than experience, even though Garrett’s school was good—” she broke off, shaking her head in disgust. “Guess I shouldn’t mention that man’s name. I thought he was so nice finding me this job. I’m glad he’s dead,” she said fiercely, “but I can’t let Jack hear. They were good friends.”

Megan swallowed. Scott and Garrett had been good friends too. That was the root of the problem.

“I’m looking forward to meeting your family.” Eve’s voice lowered as she bent over and shut off the hose. “Is there a date yet for Joey’s funeral?”

“They haven’t released his body yet.” Megan hopped over the puddling water. Her gaze kept shooting to Eve’s stomach, her relief spiked with a bubbling joy.

“I took one of those new gender tests,” Eve said. “He’s a boy. And if he takes after the paternal side, he’ll be loyal and brave.” Her voice cracked. “I’m so grateful he’ll have you for an aunt.”

Aunt.
Megan wrapped Eve in a huge hug, feeling like her face might split. “I hope you’re happy with this,” she said. “Because I’m ecstatic. I’m going to buy a bigger house.”

“But what will Scott think?” Eve asked. “You know, if you’re babysitting once a week?”

Megan’s smile slipped a notch. It felt like a wound had been rubbed raw. She stepped back and patted Marshall’s neck, studiously averting her head. “I haven’t seen him. That was just a school fling.”

“Really?” Eve said. “Because I never got those vibes. He seemed like a standup kind of guy.”

“It doesn’t help that I’m the reason his best friend died.” Megan forced a careless shrug.

Eve wasn’t fooled for a minute. “That’s crazy. He can’t blame you. Anyone who deals with a cartel risks a short life span.” She shook her head, her dark eyes flashing. “What exactly did he say?”

Megan stooped and picked up a sponge, desperately needing something to do with her hands. He didn’t care enough to say anything. He’d been almost mute the one time she’d called. At least he’d sent Snake. And given her Rex. But he’d always been protective of her. It was damn confusing.

She squeezed the sponge, watching the sudsy water soak her fingers. “He doesn’t want to talk.” Misery flattened her voice. “So I really don’t know what he’s thinking. Guess he’s too busy cleaning out Garrett’s house.”

“Call the prick,” Eve said, temper spicing her words. “You can’t go around wondering. Besides, you asked him to find Joey. So in a sense, he works for you.”

“But I didn’t pay him.” Still, Megan couldn’t help but smile. It was nice to have someone finally agree that Scott was a jerk. She was tired of Snake and his unswerving loyalty to his boss.

She remembered Snake’s words. ‘You know Scott. If he says he’ll do something, he does it.’ Scott had also said he’d meet her in the paddock on April 30th and clearly that date was trashed. It seemed like a lifetime since she’d pulled his car from the ditch.

Maybe she’d call him tonight. Claim she’d waited by the paddock. Maybe he’d feel a teensy bit guilty knowing she’d driven to Santa Anita to meet him. And she’d finally have a chance to thank him because even though he’d carved her heart out, he had saved her life. And for that, she would always be grateful.

“I will call him.” Megan tossed the wet sponge back into the bucket, splashing water over Marshall’s legs. “I’ll call tonight and be done with it. And since I’m here, I might hang around and watch a few races. When’s post time?”

“One o’clock,” Eve said. “But don’t go yet. I want to introduce you to a few people. All the guys are looking.” Her grin turned mischievous. “Bet they’re hoping you’re our new exercise rider.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

A burly man blocked Megan’s view and she edged sideways, straining to see the horses in the paddock. Race one, and already spectators gathered. She wouldn’t watch long—just enough so that when she told Scott she’d been here, it would be the truth.

Plus she had a dog waiting. Rex had been dejected when she’d told him to stay home. He was utterly loyal. He wouldn’t heroically save her life then disappear without a word. But there would be no more agonizing about Scott. She was going to be an aunt.

She was still pumped by Eve’s decision. They’d briefly discussed plans to visit Megan’s mother and break the bittersweet news together.

I’ll be there for your baby, bro
.

She ignored the persistent lump in her throat and studied the nine runners circling the walking ring. Horses were the perfect tonic. They shone with vitality, their sleek coats gleaming. The number three horse had a haughty expression and reminded her a bit of Rambo, as though he considered himself too good for current company. She wasn’t going to buy a program, not for a single race, but she would make a bet on the three horse, in honor of irascible old Rambo.

Her eyes drifted over the excited owners, catching the gaze of the photographer in the Hawaiian shirt. She hoped he was getting some good pictures. He smiled and winked. She waved but quickly looked away, uncomfortable with the interest in his eyes. Turning, she scanned the spectators gathered around the paddock.

Oh, God! She jerked convulsively. A familiar head. For a moment, it hurt to breathe. Scott. His hair was longer, his tan deeper, and dark stubble covered his jaw but it was him. Unmistakably.

He wasn’t away with Snake on some clandestine job but was here, right where he said he’d be. Her breath escaped in a shuddery sigh. He hadn’t called once in the long lonely weeks, but at least he’d remembered this date. It must mean something. Maybe he’d finally come to terms with Garrett’s death.

She clasped her hands, drinking in his face. The scar on the side of his head was barely visible now. He looked good, but different. Lean, hard, dangerous. Spectators skirted around him, leaving a slight gap at the rail.

Except for the lady in the red suit. She didn’t leave any space at all. In fact, she gave a vivacious smile, stepped closer and placed a familiar hand on his arm. His head tilted an inch, and he nodded.

Megan rocked backwards, a sob catching in her throat. No mystery now why he hadn’t called. Of course, he’d shown up for his date. It just wasn’t with her.

Despair overwhelmed her, leaving no room for hurt or even anger. She’d deluded herself into believing they might be able to work things out, but clearly Garrett’s death had left an impossible chasm.

His head turned. Impossible, but he seemed to sense her presence. She ducked behind the big man on her left but it was too late. Scott spotted her and his slow smile changed his face. He no longer looked lethal. Was once again a gorgeous hunk of man…but a man who took the easy route. Would he have even called if she hadn’t showed up today?

The crowd parted, seeming to open a path just for him. He approached with an easy grace. But the woman in red trotted beside him, and Megan’s resentment overrode her despair.

His smile turned wary, his intent gaze not leaving her face. “Hello, Megan.” He paused and passed her a program.

She automatically accepted it, hiding her confusion. He had another program in his hand so obviously he’d purchased two. Was he actually expecting to meet today?

“I can pick you up a
Racing Form
if you prefer,” he said.

“No, this is fine.” She stared down at the program. Her hands were shaking and she steadied them against the rail.

“There’s no need to worry anymore.” He cleared his throat. “The Federales raided the Baja Tinda two days ago. Hugo Torres is dead.”

She glanced up. Couldn’t remember his voice ever sounding so ragged. Lines fanned from his eyes and his strong jaw appeared even more chiseled.

“No need to worry anymore,” he repeated. “You’re safe.” He edged closer, so close she could feel the heat radiating from his body.

She hated her shiver of awareness.

The three horse pranced by, newly saddled and awaiting his jockey. She had a program now. She could look up the horse’s name and race record. Perhaps he was even related to Rambo. But her mind was sluggish, still struggling to make sense of Scott’s presence.

He was here, and seemed glad to see her. He didn’t look at all remorseful. In fact, his expression was so shuttered she had no idea what he was thinking.

“Perhaps you should introduce us, Scott,” a feminine voice said.

Megan steeled her shoulders and politely turned toward his companion in the red suit. The lady was flamboyant, beautifully groomed, with a smiling mouth and an intricate gold necklace. She and Scott made an eye-catching couple.

Megan’s voice wasn’t quite steady but she made a valiant effort. “Hello,” she managed. “I’m Megan Spence.”

She glanced toward the turnstiles, desperate to escape. She’d been a fool to fall in love, to let herself believe he cared. She’d persuaded herself that Garrett’s death was the main problem. She’d misinterpreted Scott’s touch, that tender look in his eyes, the extra things he always did. This was embarrassing for them both.

And yet he remained cool and calm, just watching her with those hooded eyes, silent in the midst of all the noisy spectators.

“I’m Vanessa Grant,” the woman said, smoothing her immaculate hair and peeking at Scott. “I know you’re busy and Scott said this wouldn’t be the best time, but there’re a few things we need to discuss.”

Discuss? Megan willed her face to be as expressionless as Scott’s, but he was much better at it than her, and her lower lip quivered.

“Not now, Vanessa,” Scott said, and she could feel his gaze on her mouth.

“We just need details for the fall schedule,” Vanessa continued brightly. “Our memorial races are listed on the website. Since you’re both here—”

“Call my office,” Scott snapped.

Vanessa murmured something else but Megan could only concentrate on her breathing. In and out. She didn’t know what was going on, but the steel in Scott’s voice didn’t bode well for Vanessa.

“I apologize,” Scott said, his voice softening. “I thought it was a good idea. Maybe not. Perhaps you’d like something else?”

Megan glanced past him. Vanessa had turned and retreated toward the clubhouse, her flashy suit prominent against the more casually dressed race goers.

“Oh.” She swallowed, desperately wetting her throat. “Vanessa works here?”

“Marketing manager,” Scott said, his expression enigmatic. “I’d like to sponsor a memorial race for the fall meet.”

“I see.” She nodded, staring at the horses, wishing she’d remembered her sunglasses. He was much too good at reading emotions. She didn’t want him to spot her blinding spike of relief that the lovely and eager Vanessa wasn’t his date.

“So? What do you think?” He edged closer, dipping his head with the question.

His breath was warm against her neck, his familiar scent a cocoon. For a jumbled moment, she wanted to melt into his chest. Then she wanted to berate him and thank him and ask why he hadn’t called, and the barrage of emotions left her much too shaky to speak.

“We could have an apprentice race or a memorial race,” he went on. “Perhaps you and your Mom can decide? Or Eve too, if you like?”

“Okay,” she croaked, guessing her voice now sounded as gruff as his. But she’d assumed the race was for Garrett. She gulped, still staring at the horses. A memorial for Joey? It was difficult to comprehend such a thoughtful gesture, not when her heart pounded with renewed hope.

“But we can discuss that another time,” he said, following her gaze. “Do you like a horse in this race?”

“Number three,” she managed, her voice wobbly. The jockey was already in the saddle. She didn’t remember hearing the call for riders up. Couldn’t remember seeing the jockeys parade from the jock room.

“Want me place a bet for you?” His voice was only inches from her ear.

She mutely shook her head. He was still talking about horses?
Horses, not heroin
? How could he act as if nothing had happened? The last time she’d seen him, he’d been pressing his hands over Garrett’s bloody chest. In that terrible, horrible cowshed.

A shiver escaped and she gripped the rail. “I didn’t have a chance to thank you,” she whispered, “for saving my life. You were very brave and—”

“Don’t. Please, don’t.” He gave a racking groan and splayed his fingers over hers.

She stared down at his hands so dark against her paler ones. Three knuckles were freshly torn, and the sun-bleached hairs on his forearms were stark against the tan of his skin. And then she understood. He’d been in Mexico. He’d had something to do with the collapse of the Baja Tinda.