Racetrack Romance BOX SET (Books 1-3) (38 page)

Yells jangled with the clink of steel as a horse fought the gate. She kept her eyes straight ahead, staring at the expanse of dirt, imagining the feel of Lazer as he burst out straight and fast. The assistant starter adjusted Lazer’s nose in the vee. The colt’s ears flattened.

Clang!
The gates sprang open, the noise mingling with riders' shouts.

Lazer launched forward. The three horse veered to the left, smacking them with his shoulder. But Lazer muscled back like a diesel truck and the three horse disappeared, left to jostle for position behind them. Atta boy!

Liam had grabbed the rail, and Frostbite's distinctive white tail streamed in front of them. A streak of red flashed on their outside as the filly, Brenna's Hitter, gunned for the lead.

Lazer had been quick from the gate too. A wall of runners loomed on her right, but the colt wasn't slowing down. His nose was shoved in Frostbite’s blowing tail as they entered the first turn.

Shit! This wasn't where they were supposed to be. She and Kurt hadn't even discussed this scenario. The possibility of running up front hadn't occurred to either of them. But Lazer ran effortlessly, and they were close enough to the two frontrunners that dirt didn’t bombard them. The pace didn't feel brutally fast either.

She adjusted her grip on the reins and decided to let Lazer run. Better than arguing with him. And Kurt had said to ride like he was the best horse in the race.

So she coasted along, third on the rail, tucked in behind Liam’s mount and Brenna’s Hitter with the rest of the field pounding behind them. A horse’s white bridle shoved up by Lazer’s shoulder, and suddenly she was boxed in on the rail. The soft cuppy rail.

As they rounded the first turn the white-bridled horse drifted wide. She grabbed the space and moved Lazer several paths out. The speed horses pulled away, swept out of the turn and galloped by the grandstand for the first time. Clods of dirt hit Lazer in the face. He faltered.

Come on!
She shook her stick but Lazer was backing off from the stinging dirt. She checked under her right arm and saw enough room to swing wider still, and when she guided him further from the rail, he dug back in. But two runners had grabbed the space on her inside, and now she was shoved back to fifth.

And we're way too wide!
She fought a mind-numbing panic. They charged into the clubhouse turn with Lazer covering more ground but still holding his position. The half-mile pole was a blur as the horses thundered around the turn and down the backstretch.

She kept Lazer under a careful hold. Struggled to regain her composure. His ears were pinned on Brenna’s Hitter, and he seemed to be narrowing the gap even though he ran three wide. His power was incredible, but could he hang on?

Yet they seemed to be gaining on one of the leaders. Or was Frostbite fading? She saw Liam’s arm rise and fall, but the jockey’s whip was useless. Frostbite had simply quit running.

The rider caught behind the gray bellowed. White silks, had to be Allan. She glimpsed the jock rise in the stirrups, frantically checking his mount in a last-ditch effort to keep from clipping heels.

Then Frostbite disappeared, replaced with a blur of red and white. The quarter pole. Only Brenna’s Hitter was in front of them, and Lazer was locked on the filly.

Movement flashed on her inside. A blazed face nudged up, a horse with a distinctive figure eight noseband.
Oh no, it’s Gary, and Lazer doesn’t even see him
. Sweating Bullet would be strong too, tracking the speed and benefiting from Gary’s smart ride.

Lazer wasn't even aware of the new challenge until the favorite had edged past. They rounded the final turn with Brenna’s Hitter clinging to the lead, Sweating Bullet a charging second, and Lazer third and running near the center of the track.

This is it, fellow. No dirt and lots of running room. Show me what you’re made of. She dropped a dirty set of goggles, switched her stick to the right hand and pleaded for another gear.

Lazer exploded.

They blew by Bixton on Sweating Bullet, past the gutsy Brenna’s Hitter. Julie glimpsed a startled face. And then they were alone on the lead with nothing in sight but an expanse of brown. Whistles and yells, the crack of a whip, the straining of other horses—sounds faded as Lazer stormed past the sixteenth pole. No one was going to catch him, not today.

His ears pricked as the crowd roared in approval. With an unflagging stride he cruised under the wire, six lengths in front of the favorite and drawing away.

Julie rose in the stirrups, bursting with elation. They had won, convincingly. “Thank you,” she whispered, raising her arm to the sky.

She tried to slow Lazer, but he wanted to run another mile. Midway down the backside, she was able to ease him up and turn around.

“What the hell did you do to that horse?” Gary hollered as he cantered alongside, touching her shoulder in an eloquent salute.

She just grinned. “Did you get up for second?” she asked.

“Yeah and I think the filly hung on for third. But you were alone up there. That was some kick. Haven’t seen a move like that in a long time. Wonder what the time was.”

Julie didn’t care about the time of the race or Lazer’s explosive last quarter. He’d run his heart out, and she gratefully stroked his wet neck “You wonderful, wonderful horse,” she whispered, her praise garbled by her ragged breathing.

Choking with joy, she whispered another string of endearments. Lazer arched his neck and preened as they trotted to the pick-up area where Kurt waited, tall and distinct among the cluster of trainers.

He looked so cool, so composed. She didn't know how he did it because her joy bubbled, and she knew her entire face glowed. She couldn’t hide it. Didn’t want to.

She grinned and saluted the stewards before leaping off beside Kurt.

“Stay on, hotshot,” he said. “Tonight you make that special trip to the winner's circle. Congratulations.”

“I forgot about that part!” She pumped his hand. “Congratulations to you too.”

He legged her back into the saddle. “You sure had this fellow moving. How did you get out of the gate so quick?”

She leaned over Lazer's shoulder. “It must have been the magnet,” she said. “He was focused from start to finish.”

Kurt unbuckled the blinkers and gave a slow nod, as though settling an argument with himself. At that moment she didn't care what combination of factors had helped Lazer. It was all wonderful, and she intended to savor every fleeting second.

Shimmering with happiness, she watched through a haze—the perfect dream—as Kurt led them into the winner's circle. He gestured, and Sandra, Martin and her dad twisted through the crowd, hustling to join them. The photographer framed the horse with his lens as they crammed around Lazer. A cooler, plaque, handshakes. The camera clicked, and the presentation was made.

“There’s a nice picture for your wall,” Kurt said, looking at her as though he knew exactly where she’d hang it. Right next to her mom’s. A weight lifted, and she grinned, so deliriously grateful she wanted to hug him, wanted to hug Lazer, wanted to hug anyone within reach.

“Tell me about the race,” he said, his calm voice grounding her.

“Lazer was focused. Had a good jump from the gate. The dirt bothered him down the backstretch, but he dug in when we swung wide. And I had a ton of horse heading for home.”

“You stayed cool. You were in a tight spot for a second.”

She wiped the wetness off her cheeks. Kept grinning. “I had a lot more options because Lazer is such a good horse. And you’re such a good trainer.”

She squeezed his arm and leaped off, clicking her heels in the air, weightless with euphoria. Behind them the crowd roared, pulling their attention to the tote board.

Kurt gave a low whistle. “Look at those payouts. We’ll have money to celebrate with tonight.”

“Two hundred and sixty eight bucks for the trifecta! Did you bet it?”

“A few times. You and Martin did too. Sandra has your tickets.”

Julie pulled off her saddle. Her mouth seemed to stretch from ear to ear. “Sandra will be over the moon. Thanks for all you've done. And for the ride. I think Lazer will go on to much bigger things.”

“This is all he ever has to do for me,” Kurt said. He stared down at her. Something soul deep sparked between them, and for a moment it seemed they were the only two people at the track. But an official was calling, and she gulped back her bubbling emotions and turned to the scales.

Right after weigh out, a melee of raucous jockeys, led by Gary Bixton, swarmed her. From the tops of their shoulders she saw a group of teenagers celebrating in front of the tote board. Martin was the hero in the middle, holding hands with a laughing redhead and jubilantly brandishing a fistful of betting stubs.

The last race was long over by the time Lazer relaxed and passed his urine. The colt left the test barn, an automatic stop for race winners, and walked eagerly into G barn, his head swinging as Julie, Martin and Sandra saluted him with their beer cans.

Kurt led the colt into his stall, noticed someone had placed a carrot and two peppermints in his feed bin, and the hay net bulged with alfalfa. He wrapped Lazer’s legs, giving him a thorough rubdown before joining the festivities in the aisle.

“Any beer left?” he asked, pretending dismay at their sheepish expressions.

“You were too long at the test barn,” Sandra said as she gathered the empties, “but the bets you placed will pay my rent for months. So if you drive us to Champs, I’ll buy you all the beer you can drink.”

“Thanks.” He inclined his head. “But you all had a hand in Lazer’s win, and I’m definitely buying tonight. By the way, whose magnet is this, and how do I get my own?”

“Keep it,” Julie said. “We’re only glad you were open enough to try something different.”

He pocketed the shiny disc with a wry smile, reluctant to admit he hadn't been all that open. He’d attached it to Lazer’s bridle only because the throbbing pain in his thigh had vanished fifteen minutes after he'd stuck the magnet in his left pocket.

Chapter Thirty-Two

The bar bustled in celebration but Kurt felt isolated, like being the only sober person at a party. He sipped his beer while Julie and Gary rehashed every stride of race eight—for the third time. Usually when one of his horses ran big, he enjoyed the replays.

Not tonight.

“That filly’s tough,” Gary said. “Under a mile no one can beat her. She looked my horse in the eye and didn’t give an inch.”

Kurt checked his watch, wondering when the place would close. He didn’t want to rob Julie of her celebration, but he was filled with a raw urgency to explain. There wasn’t much time either. In less than twenty-four hours, the entire investigation would be exposed.

He stretched his arm over the back of her chair as Gary continued to laud Brenna’s Hitter.

“No need to ride the broncs either, Jules,” Gary added in that familiar drawl Kurt was learning to like. “You can ease up and stop racing like a starving apprentice too. It's embarrassing for us old guys to get dusted like that.”

“It’ll be wonderful not to ride for Otto any more.” Julie’s face was so radiant, the anxiety gnawing at Kurt’s gut was temporarily soothed. Just seeing her expression gave him a lift.

“Otto won’t be around anyway,” Sandra called from across the table where she was stacking fat piles of bills. “Heard he sold his horse for meat and is pulling out tomorrow.”

Kurt leaned forward. “Was he at the barn tonight?”

“Yeah, ranting to someone about their trailer blocking his, and how it better be gone by tomorrow afternoon or else. Otto’s such a jerk.”

Kurt stretched back in his chair and tried to relax. Sounded like everything would shake down as expected. He'd have all night and morning to be with Julie. She’d have a lot of questions and deserved honest answers. Still…he had the nagging sense he was missing something and peeked at his watch again.

Heavy footsteps sounded behind him.

“Congratulations on the win, Kurt,” Cody said, posing by the table. “Guess you’re buying tonight?”

Julie looked up, her eyes widening with sympathy. “What happened to your face?” she asked.

“Nothing much. Just a little misunderstanding.” Cody sidled around Kurt’s chair, edging closer to Julie. “No shooters tonight? I can get some if you want.”

She shuddered. “No, thanks.”

Cody leaned down, planting a hand on the table between Julie and Kurt. “It didn’t hurt your riding though. Maybe I did you a favor, getting you to relax before the race. Maybe we should do that again?”

“Maybe there's an empty seat at another table,” Kurt said.

Cody chuckled, unabashed. “Yeah, okay. See you both around. Congratulations on the win. Really,” he added before walking away.

“We want new Directors for the Jockey’s Association,” Gary said. “There's a bylaw pending. Ten of us are here tonight, and we need to vote for the insurance coverage.”

Kurt sighed as he heard Gary lobbying. Better coverage for riders was a critical issue, and he was a strong supporter. But if they started discussions now, Julie could be here all night.

“Let’s go dancing after this,” Sandra said, jubilantly waving her wad of cash.

Kurt’s head throbbed as the commotion swelled, and he didn’t know what bothered him most. Anticipation about the arrests tomorrow or fear of Julie’s reaction tonight. But he simply couldn’t wait any longer. He shoved his beer to the side and leaned toward her. “I know it’s a sweet night, but I need to talk to you. Alone.”

“Oh, but…” Her smiling protest faded as she studied his face.

“It’s important,” he said softly.

She stared at him for a moment then seemed to sense his urgency because she rose, scooped up her purse and said a firm goodbye to her protesting friends.

Kurt eased his truck in front of the motel door and reached behind the seat to grab his briefcase. Julie was silent although the glow from the lighted walkway outlined her pensive expression. She slid from the truck but looked so reluctant, uncertainty made him nervous.