by Sasscer Hill
“So what do you think?” I asked.
“I think you didn’t pay close attention when I told you to keep your distance from these people.”
“Oh for God’s sake,” I said. “You sound like Rick.”
“Too bad,” he said. “I’m halfway in love with you.”
I grew still as the heron.
Will held his hand up, palm out. “Hold your hand against mine.”
I did. Hadn’t realized his hand was that big and his fingers were long enough to fold over the first two joints of mine. Maybe size matters, but the electric jolt I got from his hand impressed me way more. Felt like a herd of wild stallions were running free in my veins.
“Did I ever tell you that I know how to weld?” he asked.
We weren’t going to have a guy conversation now were we? “Uh, no.”
“You hold a rod,” he said, “and it’s on fire, with positive electricity running through it. You clip a negative charge to a piece of metal and touch the rod to it. The heat is searing. It melts them together.”
His eyes were so intense.
“But,” he said, “if you stare at the brilliant welding light, you could go blind.”
I pulled my hand back from his and touched his lower lip. Full, sexy.
He moved in fast with a slow kiss. We were both trembling when he pulled back. “Whoa,” he said. “Can we take this out of here?”
I couldn’t speak, but managed to nod.
He flagged the waiter. “We need a check, please.”
“We can’t go to your place,” he said. “It’s like Grand Central. And I’ve got roommates at my house.”
I’d driven up and down Ocean Boulevard so many times, I’d memorized half of it.
“There’s a little motel about a block from here,” I said. “We could walk there.”
* * * *
By the time we got into that room, I was liquid with desire. What happened next reminded me of a maiden sprint race—a hard break, with a furious drive to the finish.
At first it hurt, but in an exquisite way. Then it just felt so good. I must have moaned the latter part out loud because I remember Will saying, “Oh, yeah. It truly does.”
Racing down the stretch, we seemed to explode, then lay panting on the bed, where I eventually surfaced from a haze and glanced around.
“Look,” I said. “We never even pulled the covers back.”
“Who had time for that?”
Suddenly conscious of my nudity, I burrowed under the sheets. Will followed me right in. We lay next to each other, basking in a kind of afterglow, until he guided my hand with his.
Who knew jockeys were so big? Or that Will’s skin could be so hard, smooth, and hot all at the same time?
“Again?” I asked. “Is this usual?”
“It will be with you. I want to take it long and slow. You ready?”
* * * *
Later, he went out to get us coffee, and I lay in a dreamy languor thinking about the amazing things he’d done to me. No wonder sex was such a driving force in people’s lives. I’d never thought it could feel like that. Finally, I forced myself from the warm bed, using the time to wash up and get dressed. A flushed young woman who looked incredibly happy stared back at me from the bathroom mirror. I gave her a little salute, then turned my phone on, startled a second later when it rang in my hand.
“Nikki,” Carla said. “You need to check your messages more often.”
“I thought you were with Rick.”
“I was, but the department called him in. I just talked to Klaire. She’s been trying to reach you, too.”
Couldn’t I just bask for a while?
“What’s up?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Klaire sounded weird. She wouldn’t explain. Says she has to talk to you. Call her, please. Find out what’s going on and call me right back. Okay?”
“Sure. I’ll do it now.”
When I reached Klaire, she sounded tight as a wire. “Nikki,” she said. “There’s a rumor about Gonzales. He may have a new girl for sale. I couldn’t ask too much, but—”
“No way. What do you mean, for sale?” Is Gonzales crazy? He just escaped the police! Wouldn’t he keep a low profile, disappear or—”
“Nikki, let me finish. It’s happening Monday night. The girl’s going to be auctioned, and it sounds like Jade.”
“Holy shit,” I said. “No wonder you didn’t explain it to Carla!”
“My contact heard the girl is blond, unusually beautiful, and still a virgin. Gonzales has a couple of other girls, too, but this one is the prize. People are coming from overseas to bid on her.”
I felt sick. “We have to call the police!”
“No! You can’t risk it, Nikki.”
“But Rick warned us there might be a leak. We can tell him.”
“You want to bet the girl’s life on Rick?” she asked.
Now that she’d put it that way, I didn’t know what to do. “Do you have a sense about Rick or anything like that?”
“No. I think I only get messages from those with a strong telepathic ability. But, I don’t trust cops. Especially ones who arrested me in the past.” She grew silent.
I moved toward the rumpled bed and sank onto the edge. My free hand slid toward the center of the sheets, where I could still feel our warmth. Damn everything.
“So what do we do, Klaire?”
“The auction is very private, but it will be fronted by a party. They will have live music, dancers, and a fortune teller. I’ve arranged for the woman they’ve hired to tell fortunes to become ill. She will send me in her place.”
“What?” I asked. “Are you crazy?”
“Let me finish,” she said, impatience hardening her tone. “You will come with me as my assistant. We will find a way to disrupt the sale.”
I closed my eyes. The woman was nuts.
“No. We have to call the police or the FBI. Somebody.”
“If we do that, the auction will disappear. Jade will vanish. I know this. You have to come with me.”
CHAPTER 40
When Will returned, we plumped the pillows and sat against the headboard, recharging ourselves with hot, sweet caffeine. I loved lying next to him, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, breathing in his scent, reveling in the memory of his lips, his tongue and his hands. Not to mention his magic fingers.
But Klaire’s words kept drowning out those hot memories, pulling my thoughts into a cold stream of apprehension.
As I stared at the cup in my hands, I could feel his gaze on me.
“What happened since I left?” he asked.
“Klaire called.” I said, and told him.
“You can’t go to that auction.”
“That’s my decision, Will.”
“No.” He shifted and turned toward me, placing a hand on my thigh. “You don’t understand.”
“I understand that if I can help save Carla’s daughter, I will.”
He sighed. “I should probably tell you something.”
I didn’t like the sound of this, afraid a gulf was about to open between us.
“Go ahead,” I said.
“You know what the TRPB is right?”
“Sure, the Thoroughbred Racing Protection Bureau.” As far as I knew, it was the investigative arm of the Thoroughbred Racing Associations of North America, with a mission to keep racing clean and maintain public confidence in the sport. Something sorely needed, but where was Will going with this?
“What about it?” I asked. Then it hit me like a bucket of ice water. “You work for them!”
“Only occasionally. On a part time, contract basis.”
“How nice,” I said, pulling away from him, feeling betrayed. “So what are you investigating now, me?”
“Whoa, no.” Then he swallowed. “Currito Maldonista.”
“Currito? You son of a bitch! You know all this and don’t tell me until after you sleep with me?” How could he care about me and not say anything? I fou
ght the sting of tears. I wasn’t going to let him see me cry.
“I’m telling you now. He’s a Colombian drug lord, Nikki. The DEA is involved.”
I closed my eyes. This was surreal. Was I really shocked about Currito? No. But Will’s admission knocked me way off balance.
“If Currito’s what you say he is, why the hell did the state of Florida give him an owners license?”
“The DEA wanted him here.”
I stared at him, feeling bitterness grow inside me. I’d been feeding this guy information for days. He’d sucked me in and hung me out.
“Look,” he said, “I don’t want you going to that auction with Klaire. There’s a lot of scary stuff going on in South Florida right now. You said yourself there’s a leak in the police department. I don’t want you getting hurt.”
“So now that I’ve slept with you, you can tell me what to do? Let me ask you something, Will. Were all your romantic moves about helping your investigation?”
“No, not true, Nikki.” He reached out to touch me.
“Forget it. I’m out of here!” I grabbed my tote and ran from the room. I tore down the block, grabbed a taxi at Billy’s Stone Crab, and ignored Will’s repeated calls on my cell. At least he’d had better sense than to chase me down the street.
Once I was locked in my room at the Sand Castle, I fought back the tears and called Carla.
“It wasn’t anything that important,” I lied. “Klaire wanted to make sure I was all right after all the stuff that happened at Worldwide. I think she had a dream about it or something. You know how she is.”
“Yeah, but she sounded so weird. Like she’d found out something awful.”
“No. Listen, my neighbor’s knocking on the door.” I was such a liar. “I gotta go.”
When we disconnected, I threw myself on the bed. Damn Will. Damn everything. I had to get some sleep. La Bruja was running tomorrow. The day after that was Monday and the auction. Should I go? I padded into the tiny kitchen and got my bottle of Wild Turkey out of the cabinet. I poured two fingers into a glass and took it with me to bed.
* * * *
By one o’clock the next afternoon, I sat at the lunch counter in the jockeys’ room moving a spoon around in a carton of blueberry yogurt. My race on La Bruja ran at two p.m. Glancing at the video monitor behind me, I saw the entrants for the first race circling the paddock.
I turned back to fiddling with my yogurt. The first thing I’d done when I arrived in the jock’s room was scour the day’s program to see if Will had a race. Fortunately, he only had two rides at the end of the day. I intended to clear out before then. I didn’t want to see him.
Someone tapped me lightly on the shoulder and I almost jumped off my stool. The assistant clerk of the scales. I’d been so lost in thought I hadn’t seen him coming.
“There’s a Carla Ruben waiting outside. Do you want to see her?”
“Yes,” I said. “Tell her to come in.”
She did, and sat with me at the counter where she ordered a diet Coke. She wore a tawny animal print dress and a brown-and-gold necklace. The outfit matched perfectly with the gold flecks in her brown eyes.
“Nikki,” she said, staring at me. “I came to wish you luck, but what’s up? You look like hell.”
“You mean aside from my recent fight with a slave trader and being up with you all night at the police station?”
“Yeah, aside from that. You look different.”
I wouldn’t tell her about the auction and Jade. She’d freak. So I told her about Will, and even though I explained how Will had played me, she got a big smile on her face.
“Oh my God,” she said. “You finally did the deed! Look at you! You’re blushing. How was it?”
“Carla. Could you keep your voice down? Did you not hear me say he’s been using me?”
She waved a hand in dismissal. “I don’t believe that for a minute. Give the guy a break. He can do his job and fall in love with you. I bet he can do all kinds of things at once. Did he?”
I caved. “Oh, my God, Carla. You should have seen his eyes. They were…on fire. He was so amazing. I had no idea a man could make me feel like that. He was…”
“The perfect fit?” She really had an evil grin.
“I gotta get ready for this race.” I pushed back from the counter as if mildly offended, amazed that the memory was powerful enough to put a smile back on my face.
* * * *
After what I’d heard about Currito the night before, seeing him in the paddock rattled me. A drug lord? I struggled for a pleasant expression and hoped it didn’t look as phony as it felt.
He studied my face a moment, making me worry I’d given myself away. But he didn’t know that I knew. I was being paranoid. But who could blame me?
He had a man with him—maybe late twenties. His long black hair was loose and fell almost to his shoulders. He had a three-day beard, was tall and had a runny nose. The guy needed a tissue.
Currito shook my hand. “Buena suerte, Nikki.” Wishing me good luck. “This is Victor.”
When I shook Victor’s hand, he left something wet on my palm. I tried to be sneaky about rubbing my hand dry against my riding pants, holding his gaze so he wouldn’t notice. Victor looked vaguely familiar. Could he be the stranger I’d seen on our shedrow the day Diablo ran?
“Nice to meet you,” I said. “Are you in business with Currito?”
Currito’s bad eye started ticking. “No,” Currito replied quickly. “He is a relative. What is your plan for La Bruja?”
Though La Bruja’s past performances defined her as a horse without a late speed kick, she had plenty of stamina.
“I hope she breaks well and stays fairly close behind the front runners. I’ll ask her to run at the end.” Pretty much a standard plan for a distance race.
“Very good,” Currito said. “Victor, let us find our seats.”
He seemed anxious to leave. He hadn’t even waited for the call of “riders up.” But as soon as he and Victor disappeared, the call came, and in moments I was on the track and heading for the gate on a nervous La Bruja.
* * * *
Orlando had arranged for a friend of his, a pony boy at Gulfstream, to take us through our warmup and to the gate. The man rode a large, pinto gelding and handled La Bruja well, doing what he could to keep her calm, letting her stretch her legs in a rhythmic slow gallop on the backstretch.
When we arrived at the gate, he handed the lead strap to an assistant starter, who loaded us into post position two. The rest of the field of twelve loaded calmly into the metal contraption, and I heard Larry Collmus announce, “They’re all in line!”
With a clang and a crash the gates sprang open. La Bruja rocked forward one step, stumbled badly, and threw me onto her neck. I watched the ground rush toward me and locked my arms straight, my hands on her neck, trying to push back. Her nose hit the dirt, but she threw her other leg out, caught herself, rose up, and steadied.
Her recovery threw me back into the saddle, where I was able to regain the stirrup I’d lost and regather the reins. But the field was so far ahead. Clearly the stumble had cost us the race. Damn it.
La Bruja was a nice filly and I wasn’t going to use her up trying to catch the field. She could run another day. I let her settle and sat quietly in the saddle, keeping a long hold on the reins, not urging her to run hard. She closed some of the distance, and at the far turn, I pretended to whip and drive a bit so I wouldn’t get in trouble with the stewards. They tended to hand out fines when they decided a jockey hadn’t tried or had “stopped riding.”
By the time we got to the stretch, La Bruja passed two exhausted horses and actually caught two that were still running. At the wire, we flew past the eye of the digital camera and finished ninth.
I galloped La Bruja out with the rest of the field, pleased by her determination to pass as many horses as she could, before I slowed her down and turned her back toward the paddock. This filly could run all day! A mile and
a quarter might suit her well next time she ran.
But judging from the dark look on Currito’s face where he stood with Orlando waiting for us to come in, there might not be a next time. As I headed toward them, I noticed Victor was not with Currito or on the apron among the crowd that stood there. As La Bruja jogged me closer, Currito turned abruptly and walked off the track.
“Señor Maldonista, he not happy with you,” Orlando said as he grabbed La Bruja’s bridle.
I slid from the filly, my polished boots landing with a thump in Gulfstream’s sandy soil. “So what did he want me to do? Beat her to death down the stretch?”
Orlando heard the anger in my voice and wisely responded with a classic Latin shrug. Those shrugs are hard to yell at.
When I removed the saddle and Orlando started to lead the filly away, he made his last comment over his shoulder. “Señor Maldonista say he see you back at the barn.”
“Great!” I shot back, then walked toward the jocks’ room to weigh myself in on the scales. In spite of my efforts not to, I searched for Will, hoping I would, or maybe would not, see him. He wasn’t around, so after changing, I headed back to the barn where Currito waited for me, arms crossed, expression still dark.
“You did not ride La Bruja down the stretch. After the bonus you received from me, I should think you’d have better sense than to quit before the finish line on one of my horses!”
The way his bad eye ticked, he must be really upset. He was too good a horseman to react this way. I wanted to ask what was really bothering him, but didn’t want to fuel his bad mood.
I took a breath and spoke calmly. “She didn’t have a shot, Currito. Not after she stumbled at the break. I didn’t want to abuse her.”
He said something sharp and fast in Spanish that I couldn’t follow, then threw his hands in the air, a frustrated gesture not typical of him.
“Victor,” he called out.
At the same moment Orlando appeared at the top of our shedrow, leading La Bruja for another turn around the shedrow. When Currito received no response from the missing Victor, his eyes drifted to Orlando.
“Where is Victor?”
“No se, señor,” Orlando replied. He dropped his gaze and kept going with the filly.
