Christmas Countdown

by Jan Hambright

  “It’s a lot more complicated,” he whispered.

  “Not really.” She put her hands on his chest and pushed up onto her knees.

  Mac groaned as she lowered herself onto him and started to move.

  Waves of pleasure hammered her body and she gave herself over to the timeless rhythm, focused on the escalating excitement that teased her closer to ecstasy with each thrust, until she maxed out on top of him and climaxed seconds before he did.

  Satiated, she collapsed onto his heaving chest and closed her eyes, listening to the thump of his heart under her ear.

  She was in love with him. She knew it at that moment, felt it in her bones. But she didn’t form the words, or speak them. Mac wasn’t a horse, and like he said, this ride was more complicated than any she’d ever taken on a Thoroughbred in the middle of the night.

  MAC HELD ON TO EMMA long after she’d fallen asleep on his chest. He stroked her silky hair with his fingers in the darkness and warred with his growing feelings for her.

  Working alongside her, touching her, making love to her all played hell with his motto, turning it into a sham statement he wasn’t sure he could accept anymore.

  But she deserved so much better than a battle-scarred bodyguard who had nothing to give her.

  He rolled her gently off him and onto the bed, tucking her body in next to his as tightly as he could. He closed his eyes and fell asleep with the scent of her hair in his nose and a knot in his throat.

  By morning she was gone.

  MAC FLIPPED ON his blinker and turned onto New Zion road, then took a left onto the Newtown Pike for the ten-mile trip into Lexington. He glanced over at Emma, who stared out the passenger-side window of his pickup and hadn’t said two words since they left the farm.

  Heck, she should be jumping up and down on the seat next to him right now, excited about collecting her reward money. It would go a long way toward preserving her dream. Instead her sullen mood was beginning to rub off on him.

  “What’s up, Em? This is the answer to Firehill’s dollar issues, at least in the interim between now and the Derby in May. I’ll give you my half if it will help.”

  She turned around and looked at him. “No way. It’s yours, you earned it, and you’re right. I’m happy that the financial pressure is off for a while. And when Navigator’s Whim takes the Triple Crown, I can put him out to stud. Things couldn’t be more sound.” She turned back toward the window. Mac focused on the road in front of him, content with silence for the moment.

  Emma blinked hard, working to keep from tearing up. In ten days Mac would leave. In ten short days her life would resume without him in it. Maybe she should tell him how she felt about him, maybe she should say the words to him…I love you…dammit.

  He’d just leave sooner.

  She’d felt the hesitation in his touch last night. Heard the regret in his voice when he said it was complicated. Well, he got that right.

  Straightening in the seat, she raised her chin. She’d survived without him before she hired him, she’d survive without him once he was gone. But her heart wouldn’t.

  “The station is on East Main Street,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper. She cleared her throat and mustered her resolve. “Do you know how to get to it?”

  “Yeah. I take heartache lane, a left on I’m-no-damn-good and stop at you’ll-end-up-in-misery.” He looked over at her and grinned.

  She grinned back, but she wasn’t buying it for a second.

  MAC LOOKED ACROSS the desk at Sheriff Wilkes and felt his muscles pull tight. “What are you trying to say?”

  “You’ve got to leave this Victor Dago thing alone.” Wilkes thumbed the stack of paperwork on his desk and didn’t look up for a second. “I’ve been advised to rule Victor Dago’s death an accident and close the case. No more questions, no more digging around.” He leaned back in his chair.

  “I guess it doesn’t matter then that I found out the real Victor Dago died in California two years ago, not in that stall at Firehill,” Mac said.

  Emma reached out and squeezed his arm. “When did this happen?”

  “Last night. My buddy with the FBI called just before I gave Rahul your two weeks’ notice to move out of the stud barn.”

  “Let it go, Mac.” Wilkes shook his head. “Pursuing it will only end up rocking the boat and pitching someone into the water.”

  He tried to relax, but he couldn’t. He was more convinced than ever that something big was going on at the farm. That someone on Dago’s crew had murdered him and staged it to look like an accident. And that whatever they were hiding was somewhere behind the southeast gate of the farm.

  Wilkes pulled open his desk drawer. “Here they are. Don’t spend them all in one place.” He handed Emma hers, then Mac his.

  Emma stared at the check for a long time to make sure the ink was dry, then glanced over at Mac, who was already folding his and stuffing it into his wallet. “Thanks, Wilkes. I’m just glad everyone’s horses are finally safe.”

  “Yeah, thanks,” she said as she pushed back her chair and stood up.

  Mac reached across the desk, shook Wilkes’ hand and they left the office.

  Emma didn’t speak until they reached the pickup and he’d unlocked the doors.

  “Can you take me by Central Bank on West Vine?”

  “Sure.” He fired the engine and pulled out of the parking lot.

  “You should have told me about Victor.”

  “I didn’t want you to worry. Besides, we were too busy last night to talk about it.”

  Her insides went to mush, and she had to force herself to scrub the sexy images from her brain. “Tell me you’re going to take Wilkes’s warning and steer clear of Rahul, his crew and more questions.”

  He didn’t answer, raising her worry level. “Mac!”

  “I can’t, Em. Something is going on in that barn, something illegal, and they were willing to kill to shut it up. It could have a tremendous impact on the farm. And you. I’ve got one last thing to check out before I quit.”

  She didn’t like the sound of that, but he had a point. Why would anyone not investigate and let someone else get away with murder? It didn’t make sense.

  Mac flipped on his blinker then turned in to the drive-up teller lane at the bank. “I want to know what Rahul was doing that day out at the southeast gate.”

  “There’s nothing out there but unstable limestone caverns.”

  “Exactly.” He pulled the plastic vacuum cylinder out of its holder and waited while she filled out the deposit slip she’d taken out of her pocketbook. “It’s the perfect place to hide. No one from the farm goes down there, and they operate with impunity. If I can find out what they’re up to, I’ll contact one of my buddies with the Bureau and we’ll clean them out.”

  She handed him the check and deposit slip. He slid them into the cylinder, closed it and put it in its cradle, then pushed the button. It sucked up the tube and disappeared.

  “What do you think? A drug ring?”

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  A minute later, the cylinder dropped. Mac extracted her deposit receipt, handed it to her and pulled through the lane.

  “It’s five o’clock and I’m starving. Want some supper?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Let’s splurge, we’re loaded right now.”

  “You’ve got it, babe.”

  “Then I’m going Christmas shopping.”

  MAC STOOD AT THE track rail watching Navigator blaze the backstretch and lay into the clubhouse turn. He looked down at the stopwatch in his hand and smiled. If Navigator stayed on this pace, he would best his fastest time of 1:53. By half a second.

  He glanced up as the colt crossed the line and stopped the clock: 1:52 and 2/5.

  “I’ll be damned.”

  “Morning,” Emma said, walking up beside him to take a spot on the rail.

  His throat tightened. He looked sideways at her. “How’d you sleep?”

  “Like a baby, after
I wrapped all the presents I bought last night and stuffed them under the tree.”

  “Good thing we had a pickup to haul them home in.”

  She reached out and put her hand on his, then turned it over to reveal the stopwatch he held.

  “Holy cow, he’s so fast.” She smiled big and he focused on her lips, watching her smile fade like frost on the bluegrass with the morning sun bearing down.

  Disappointment beat a path through his body and trampled his heart. She hadn’t come to him last night. Hadn’t pulled back the covers and slipped in beside him.

  Part of him was grateful. He’d compromised her and taken her virginity, but the other part of him ached for the feel of her body tangled up with his.

  The sound of raised voices redirected his attention. He looked over the top of her head to the stud barn, where Rahul and Karif were arguing, Karif with his hands up in an I-don’t-know position, and Rahul with his on his hips. “I wish I knew what they were saying,” he reasoned. “Then maybe I’d have a better chance of figuring out what they’re up to.”

  “In a week or so it won’t matter, Mac. They’ll be gone, and so will you.”

  He stared down at her, reached out and brushed her cheek with his fingers.

  She closed her eyes for an instant, reached up and pushed his hand away.

  “Emma,” he said, feeling a knot twist in his chest. “Wait.”

  “Save it, Mac. I’m a big girl, I know how this ends.” She grabbed the lead rope off the post and walked out onto the track to meet horse and rider.

  Mac sucked in a breath and pushed back, turning for the hot-walker and a stack of towels to wipe down the colt. He was glad she knew how it ended, because he sure as hell didn’t know anymore.

  EMMA FOLLOWED MAC AND Navigator into the stable and down the corridor, noticing that Dragon’s Soul was once again housed in the stall where Victor had been found, and two more horses had been brought into the barn, one on either side of Navigator’s cubicle.

  A chill skittered over her skin and raised goose bumps on her arms inside of her coat sleeves. How had she allowed this to happen? How had she agreed to let someone like Victor Dago, or whoever he was, lease her barn. In that instant she vowed never to let desperation override her gut instincts again.

  “Miss Clareborn.”

  She looked up and saw Rahul step out of the tack room door and walk toward her.

  “Yes.” Walking slightly past the colt’s stall, she stayed close to where Mac slid the gate open and led him inside.

  “I would like a definite time of when you’ll be moving your horse out of our stable?”

  The gooseflesh came back as she studied Rahul, who stood much too close to her at the moment. “Mac.”

  She was relieved when she heard the stall door roll closed, and felt him at her left side.

  “The smoke damage is just about cleaned up. We’ll have him out of here on Friday morning after his gallop,” Mac said as he reached out and clasped her elbow.

  She relaxed, feeling her caution level drop.

  “Good, but now that I’ve added two more horses, and I have one who was shipped into the port at New Orleans and must be picked up, I’m afraid you will have to wait until my employer arrives next week, to receive payment.”

  “That’s not a problem. Is the sheikh coming to watch Dragon’s Soul run in the Holiday Classic?”

  “Yes. He’ll be here the afternoon of the twenty-fourth.”

  “I look forward to meeting him.”

  Rahul nodded. “If you’ll excuse me, I must hitch the horse trailer to the truck and go.”

  “Drive safely.” She turned around with Mac and walked out of the barn. Worry clung to her thoughts and she couldn’t hold it in any longer. It spilled out by the time they reached the back door of the house.

  “You’re going out to the east gate right now, aren’t you?” She stared up at Mac, searching his face for a confirmation and felt the first wave of fear glide over her nerves.

  “Yeah. Rahul is leaving, the timing couldn’t be better and I may not get another chance. Mind if I ride Oliver?”

  “You can’t go out there alone, Mac.”

  “I’m a big boy with a gun, Emma.”

  “You better saddle Dandy too, then, because I’m coming with you no matter how big your gun is.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Mac pulled the cinch tight and clamped his teeth together as he stared across the saddle seat to where Emma adjusted the stirrup leathers, then mounted Dandy.

  “I can handle this, Em. You don’t need to go.”

  “I’m sure you can. That’s not in dispute. But I’m not going to let you go out there alone. We don’t have a clue what’s beyond that gate.”

  She had a point, some spunk and too much common sense, for a woman who rocked his mental and physical world the way she did.

  He took his loaded backpack off the saddle horn, put it on, clasped the reins and turned the horse for the paddock gate leading into the pasture.

  Who was he kidding? She had more at stake in this than he did. Still, he’d packed an extra clip of ammunition for his pistol in case they met with armed resistance. He was a bodyguard, whether for her or her horse, and he still had an obligation to protect them both.

  Emma rode through the open gate. Mac closed it and mounted Oliver. Emma took a cautious look in the direction of the stud barn, and didn’t see any of the crew around.

  “They all headed in for lunch at noon,” Mac said, adjusting the old hat on his head. The hat that had belonged to his father. She’d realized it the moment she’d seen it on Paul Calliway in the picture her father had shown her. He must know it, too.

  “Let’s get while the getting is good.” He spurred Oliver into a trot.

  She eased in next to him on Dandy, posting as they rode parallel to the fence, over a rise and out of sight of the stud barn. Relaxing, she reined her horse down into a fast walk, then tried to enjoy the feel of cool air on her cheeks and in her lungs, the sun on her head and the man riding next to her.

  “Want to know the story behind that hat?” She glanced at him.

  “Sure.”

  “I guess the evening your dad delivered Smooth Sailing to Firehill, he and my father got into a terrible fight. It seems they each owned equal shares in the horse. Fifteen thousand dollars apiece, that’s what they’d paid for him at the Keeneland sale, because even though he had a worthy pedigree, his legs weren’t entirely straight, and he didn’t have much speed.”

  “I remember,” Mac said, staring straight ahead.

  “My dad asked Paul not to put him in the claim race, but he did it anyway, and when he claimed the horse, he ended up owning Smooth Sailing.”

  “What’s that got to do with this dusty old hat?”

  “Paul got into his pickup and drove away, but as a parting shot, my dad said he pulled off that hat and flung it into the field out front.”

  “In other words, he threw in the hat.” The fuzzy memory took shape inside his mind, somehow adding a degree of clarity to his childhood that hadn’t been there before.

  “Come on.” Feeling the need to break out, Mac spurred Oliver into a gallop and turned him wide for a back-way approach to the grove of pines, in case any of the crew happened to have followed, or saw them leave the paddock.

  The cool air spit icy needles against his face and made him feel alive inside, even as the old hat on his head reminded him he had a past beyond his total recall.

  Paul Calliway hadn’t been all bad, or all good. He’d been human.

  Emma slowed Dandy on the top of the rise, then reined him to a stop next to Mac and Oliver. “Do you think they know we’re here?”

  “No.” Mac dismounted. “But keep your eyes and ears open.”

  “Let’s put the horses in the center of the trees. There’s plenty of grass in there for them to graze on while we’re gone, and they can’t be spotted from the road.”

  “Did you bring the hobbles?” he asked.
r />   “Yeah.” She took the reins and picked a path into the spiral jungle, weaving between trees, listening to the hollow thud of Dandy’s hooves against the earth.

  This spot had always been her sanctuary, and now it was a place to hide? Her only consolation was that Mac was here with her, and she didn’t have to protect Firehill alone as long as he stayed.

  She broke out of the grove and moved into the center, where she opened her saddlebag and pulled out two sets of leg hobbles. She handed a set to Mac and put a set on her horse, then removed his bridle so he could graze uninhibited. She hung it on the saddle horn, and watched Mac do the same.

  “Let’s try to stay in the tree line as much as possible. If we see any of them, take cover or hit the deck.”

  A rush of excitement roared through her as she fell in step behind him. He picked a path in between the pines and stopped in the same spot where they’d first spotted Rahul.

  Mac went to his knees, then pulled off his backpack. Rummaging inside, he found his mini field glasses. He raised them to his eyes and dialed in a clear view of the southeast gate. Scanning back and forth, he surveyed the line of trees just beyond the gate and saw nothing.

  Still, he couldn’t deflect the blade of caution that sliced across his nerves. He lowered the binoculars. “You should stay with the horses, Emma. Let me do this alone.”

  “No way. I’m safer with you, Mac. Besides, they’d be in a vehicle or on foot, and we’d spot them well before they ever reached us.”

  There was that stroke of common sense he loved.

  Damn.

  “Come on. Stay low.” He slung the pack onto his shoulder and moved forward, careful never to leave cover as they worked a path to the fence and pulled in next to a clump of brush.

  The sun was almost directly overhead, but it warred with the chilly afternoon air and left him feeling cold. Staring into the dense patch of trees behind the gate, he thought he saw something move.

  He put his finger to his lips and pointed to the spot.

  Emma’s heart threatened to jump out of her chest as she stared into the thicket, listening to the crack of branches as someone, or something, moved closer to their position.