Racetrack Romance BOX SET (Books 1-3) (134 page)

She rushed up the steps and turned the handle. Unlocked. Pushed the door open and flipped on a light. His computer was gone but the phone was in the charger, and her breath oozed in relief. His cell was his lifeline. If he planned to sleep at his Lone Star apartment, he definitely would have taken his phone.

Remembering Martha’s comment, she hurried down the hall to the bathroom. Opened the cupboard door and dropped to her knees, stunned at the sight. Familiar gold caps crowned every bottle of shampoo.
Her shampoo
. No other brands in sight. No magazines, no conditioners, no hair dryers. Not a remnant of another woman.

She stared through a blur of tears. Even if he couldn’t speak the words, it was clear he was trying to say something. And this was more than enough.

Oh, God, Dino. You wonderful, generous, misjudged man
.

Swiping her cheeks, she bounced into the living room. Circled in front of the darkened window, humming with happiness. Eager to hug him, to thank him, to apologize.

He probably hadn’t gone far, maybe for something to eat. Or maybe he was at the house. She called Jocelyn.

The housekeeper answered on the first ring.

“Hi, Jocelyn,” Becky said, breathless. “I’m looking for Dino. Is he there by any chance?”

“He was,” Jocelyn said. “Where are you?”

“At his house. His phone is here so I knew he hadn’t gone far.”

“No, not far at all. Just a minute.” Jocelyn’s voice faded, her footsteps sounding as she walked down the hall. Muted conversation. Becky thought she heard Dino’s voice and her heart did a funny dance of anticipation.

“He’ll meet you at the barn,” Jocelyn said abruptly.

“Okay, great,” Becky said, hurrying to the door. “And thanks for sending that wine earlier. It was very thoughtful.” But the housekeeper had already hung up.

She shrugged—Jocelyn was never one for small talk—jumped in her car and sped to the stable.

Not surprisingly, the parking lot was empty. It was hours past feeding time, and the barn was always deserted this time of night, a watchman no longer necessary after Slim’s death.

She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, studying Slim’s guesthouse and the single porch light. Maybe Stephanie had already moved in. She could pop over and say hi but she wanted to be alone when she saw Dino. And she hadn’t visited Lyric in almost a week.

She rummaged through her purse, searching for peppermints. Loose change, wallet, cell phone—nothing that would make a horse happy. She tossed her purse on the seat and headed into the barn. Lyric would just have to accept her empty handed.

Horses peered over doors, contentedly chewing hay, but Lyric stopped eating and swept to the front of her stall, surprising Becky with an affectionate nicker.

“Did you miss me, girl, or just hoping for mints?” She scratched Lyric’s jaw, unable to believe this horse was really hers.
My horse
. So much had happened today but two things were clear: Dino cared for her and she owned a number of fine racehorses.

This was her first visit since turning into a genuine owner, and Lyric seemed to sense the gravity of the occasion. She pressed her head against Becky’s chest before nuzzling at her pockets, still optimistic they weren’t really empty.

“You’re mine now, girl,” Becky whispered. “And we can stay here forever. Thanks to dear old Martha.”
And Dino
. She stepped into the stall and hugged Lyric’s neck, overcome with gratitude. This was incredible. Dino was incredible.

She doubted she’d be gallant enough to make a similar sacrifice. The knowledge was humbling, leaving her with an aching need to apologize. She’d tried to convince herself he didn’t care for people when in reality he was the nicest person she’d ever met—just as Martha had always said.

Something sounded outside, definitely not a diesel engine. She peered down the aisle but the dark entrance was empty, so she stepped back to Lyric’s neck. Her mane was tangled and she ran her hands through the long hairs, concentrating on removing a stubborn knot.

“You’re going to have such a good life, girl.” Lyric’s ear flicked as she stood rock still, listening to Becky’s voice, seeming to enjoy the impromptu grooming. “Jill will feed you peppermints too and draw your picture. It’s going to be so much fun.”
As long as Dino stays around
. Oh, God, she prayed he’d stick around.

The mare suddenly jerked away, tossing her head and re-tangling the entire section of mane. Becky grimaced. Lyric would never be an easy horse. She stepped closer, trying once again to unravel the knot, but Lyric snaked her head and the rim of her eye flared a warning white.

Maybe she
was
a little dangerous; she certainly had strong opinions. Probably best to cut the tangles out, especially as Lyric no longer seemed tolerant of the grooming. Becky slipped her hand in her pocket, turned and jumped in shock.

Ted stared over the stall door, tall, silent, impassive.

“Hi, Ted. You scared me.”

He didn’t say a word, only looked at her with expressionless eyes.

“Did you come to see the horses?” She hated how her voice squeaked, but the way he stared was so weird. “This is Lyric, and Echo is in the next stall. Echo’s the filly that was disqualified for steroids but she’s fine now. No ill effects.” She was babbling but couldn’t shut up. Her legs and hands were stiff, and the only thing that seemed to work was her mouth. “Do you want to see Dino?” she squeaked, unable to look away from his eyes. “He’ll be here in a minute.”

“No, he won’t. Jocelyn sent him to the hospital to meet you. Now come out of the stall.”

Her nails dug into her palms. Tonight, more than ever, Ted reminded her of Craig—the amoral glitter of pale eyes, the cruel set of his mouth, the utter sense of ruthlessness.

“I n-need to finish grooming Lyric.”

“Millions of dollars in horseflesh, and she gives it to you.” His lips barely moved, taut with bottled rage. “You ruined everything. My plans. My life.”

She swallowed, but her words came out scratchy. “Martha wants you to work here. Said she’d make provisions.”

“Provisions! I’m sick of working.” He shook his head so emphatically spittle flew threw the air. “This was supposed to be mine. I had a buyer. Surveys taken. Now it’s going to the
cripples
. She’d never have conceived such a stupid idea without you.”

Actually, it had been Dino. Generous, kind, compassionate Dino, whom she’d so badly misjudged. But it didn’t seem a good time to debate the subject. Ted was in a foul mood, and her heart was pounding so hard she could barely breathe.

“And Slim. What a waste of money.” Ted shook his head, seemed to be talking to himself.

Becky’s entire body trembled now and she clung to Lyric’s neck.
Please don’t tell me this
. She opened and closed her mouth but nothing came out. “Let’s go up to the house,” she finally managed, “and join Jocelyn. We can talk there.”

Ted’s lip curled. “
She
wanted to do Martha first, not Malcolm. Should have listened.” He reached in his pocket, held a needle and vial to the light and poured a clear liquid. “Potassium chloride. No one ever questions a heart attack. How much do you weigh?” He tilted his head, surveying her thoughtfully. “Cat got your tongue? Don’t worry. It’s painful but quick. And I promise to stay until it’s over.”

Terror crashed over her. Her legs would have buckled if she wasn’t clinging to Lyric. “P-people will know. They’ll tie you to Slim.”

“Doubtful. I already checked his house. Nothing to link us. Now come on out.” His voice turned high, almost singsong. “Or perhaps you’d rather I come in. That’s all right too. Everything will work out just fine.”

“But Martha—”

“Won’t be a problem.” He pushed open the door and stepped into the stall. “She’ll be distraught by your death, of course. I expect she’ll lose that newfound energy and kick off on her own. But if she doesn’t…”

He laughed, an ugly, chilling laugh that made her gut spasm. She pressed against Lyric’s side. The mare swished her tail, humping in protest.

Ted paused. “I hate horses.”

Becky’s breath came in painful gasps but she deliberately pressed Lyric’s ticklish spot until the mare swung at the wooden wall with her hind foot. “Lyric doesn’t like you either,” she squeaked. “Better stay back.”

Ted edged forward. “I don’t like horses. Doesn’t mean I don’t know them. They’re not dogs. They won’t protect you.”

A whimper caught in Becky’s throat, and she pressed into Lyric’s solid bulk. God, she wished Lyric
were
a dog. Dogs were loyal. Tough too. They’d fight when cornered, not cower like she always did.

“Come now.” Ted smiled. “Jocelyn’s waiting for me. We promise to take good care of Martha.”

Becky twitched in horror. Martha wouldn’t have a chance. She might be suspicious of Ted but never of Jocelyn. No one had even questioned Malcolm’s death. Her hands fisted and she jerked forward, propelled by raw fear. “You bastards. Don’t hurt her!” She kicked at his arm but he leaped sideways, the loaded needle safe in his hand.

He scowled, glancing around for a spot to place the needle. A sob caught in her throat. Soon he’d have two hands free. She wanted to rush past but her legs wobbled, and he was much too close to the door.

A couple feet. If only he’d move a couple feet. She squeezed her fists, trying to control her shaking. Maybe she’d be able to get him talking. Maybe even surprise him like she had Craig that day.
God, please help me
.

“How did you inject Malcolm?” Her voice was surprisingly steady considering her entire body trembled with an adrenaline shock.

“He was napping. Jocelyn let me in the back door.” Ted shrugged, eying the narrow ledge by Lyric’s bucket. “Had to do it that way. He was a tough man. He wouldn’t have gone easy.”

No, he wouldn’t. And neither would she.

She slipped her hand in her pocket, fingering the knife Stephanie had given her, the tiny jackknife barely sharp enough to cut mane. It was so little. Ted was so tall. She stifled a sob, knowing there’d only be one chance, knowing she was fighting for her life—for Martha’s life.

She backed against Lyric’s flank, trying to control her trembles. Felt cold, awkward. It was hard to imagine fighting when she could barely stand. Lyric flattened her ears, and her breath leaked out in a ragged groan. The cranky horse beside her wasn’t any help.

She slid the knife from her pocket, opening it with stiff fingers, trying not to fumble, trying to control her terror as Ted balanced the needle on the ledge.

It’s not wide enough. The needle will fall in the straw. Please, God, make it fall. I don’t want to die. I haven’t apologized to Dino yet.

But the needle didn’t fall.

He turned to her, eyes grim. She rushed around Lyric’s rump, past the mare’s irritated tail swish, racing for the door. He lunged like a snake, his cruel fingers biting her arm.

She stuck him with her knife.

“Bitch!” He stepped back against the wall, staring at the prick of red on his hand.

Lyric’s ears shot forward, eyeing the open door. Becky’s hope flared. She’d vaulted on Lyric’s back once before. Maybe, just maybe, she could do it again.

Gulping for air, she charged forward, grabbed mane and tried to scramble onto the mare’s back. Nearly made it but her right leg couldn’t quite swing over. Shit. She wasn’t going to make it. Lyric was simply too big.

God, please
.

She clung to Lyric’s side, consumed with despair. For her, for Martha, for Dino, her legs thumping futilely against the mare’s flank.

Ted chuckled.

Thump!
Lyric kicked out with both feet, cutting off his laugh. Her abrupt kick thrust Becky forward and onto her neck. She hesitated, giving Becky time to straddle her back then bolted through the open door.

Lyric’s hooves clacked as she charged down the aisle, past wide-eyed horses staring from their stalls. She slipped once on the concrete, but gamely kept her feet. And then crisp night air slammed Becky’s face.

Lyric swerved, heading toward the dark field. Becky squealed and slid sideways. She grabbed another hunk of blowing mane, not daring to look back. She couldn’t fall off. Ted would be following, would hear the hooves and know their direction.

But Lyric’s back was slippery—she bit back another cry as the mare leaped a ditch and then she simply blanked her mind and concentrated on riding.

Slowly she adapted to the horse’s rhythm and Lyric’s gallop didn’t feel quite so frenzied, or the night so black. Maybe her eyes were accustomed to the dark.
Please stay dark. Please, so he can’t see us.
But they were in an open field. Lyric was a beacon of white and already her arms and legs ached. If Lyric bucked or shied, she’d be on the ground. A sitting target.

“Good girl,” she muttered, but wind pushed the words in her face. If Lyric would run up the hill, they could hide in the trees. And it would be easier to stay on going up the hill. Yes, they could do that. She stared at the dark ridge, willing Lyric to gallop in that direction.

But Lyric, ever perverse, veered to the right. Toward open ground and the rocky river. Oh, God, she’d never stay on over rough ground.

“No,” she pleaded.

A vehicle roared behind her, and she whimpered in panic. She had to get the horse to change direction. She unwrapped a hand from her death grip on the mane and flashed it past Lyric’s right eye, trying to flag her to the left. But Becky’s balance was too precarious, and she slipped and had to grab mane again.

All right then. She set her jaw, staring through Lyric’s pointed ears. Her only chance was to stay on the horse and make it past the river. Dino had said the riverbed was rocky. If it were too rough for a horse, surely it would be impassable for Ted’s car?

We’ll be okay, she thought, drawing comfort from the powerful horse beneath her. At least a renegade like Lyric wouldn’t swing back to the barn. She actually seemed to be enjoying this unorthodox gallop. Her stride had steadied too, making it easier to balance, although Becky had no illusions about her riding ability. If the mare stumbled…