The Damaged Heroes Collection [Box Set #1: The Damaged Heroes Collection] (BookStrand Publishing Mainstream)

by James, Sandy

  Katie thought about the man, and in a rare moment of letting her guard down, she had to acknowledge what she’d realized the moment Seth walked into the conference room. He was the most handsome man she had ever seen. Almost too pretty to be a guy.

  He had perfect features—straight, white teeth, a small cleft in his chin, and long, dark eyelashes most girls would kill to possess. Those hazel eyes were hypnotic and the ebony hair wavy, not hopelessly unruly like her own mop. He wore it a little longer than Katie usually liked to see on a guy, but for some odd reason even that trait called to her.

  She remembered his less than subtle attempt to ask her out, and wondered for a moment if she’d made a big mistake turning him down. But Katie didn’t usually go for guys like Seth. Handsome and spoiled weren’t a good combination. Men like that were typically nothing but a peck of trouble.

  And guys like Seth didn’t ever go for girls like Katie, girls who played men’s games.

  Curiosity got the better of her, and Katie put the ownership paper aside and flipped through the thick file clearly labeled with her name. Her stomach churned as she read page after page and saw how much of her life had been laid bare.

  Ross walked back into his office. Katie slammed the file shut and was about to tell the man what he could do with Sterling Remington’s “request” when he handed her a large stack of pictures. She bit her tongue, took them, and began to flip through them one by one.

  Good God. Every picture was of her jogging horses, harnessing them, moving a sulky out of the barn, or standing in a bath stall with an animal. Some snapshots showed her talking to people in the paddock and even standing in the winner’s circle. Her heart pounded and her mouth suddenly went dry. Some stranger had been watching her like a Peeping Tom.

  “I don’t understand,” Katie told Ross as she continued to shuffle through the pictures. She tried to control the shaky timbre of her voice. “He had someone following me?” She wasn’t sure whether to be complimented or insulted at the prospect. She settled on pissed.

  “Sterling always made sure he only worked with people of... quality. His word. He used it with your name almost every time I talked to him. I promised him I’d do anything to make sure you took on Seth. I wanted you to see the pictures so you’d know Sterling didn’t jump into this without any kind of thought about how it would affect you. He knew your schedule like the back of his hand. The man could name every horse in your barn.”

  Katie finally came to the last photo in the enormous pile and glanced back at Ross. “You know, I hate that you know so much stuff about me. Why in the hell would he need all of this?” she asked, brushing the file with the back of her hand.

  “I told you, Sterling wanted to know everything about you.”

  Katie shuddered at the notion. “I guess so. Do you have my shoe size? It’s a six.”

  Ross chuckled and winked. “No, Katie, I don’t have your shoe size, but I’ll be sure to add it now.” His gaze fixed on her and the humor in his eyes vanished. “So you’ll take Seth?”

  “How in the hell do you expect me to make that guy a groom? They may have the worst job in the world, but even most of them have some talent and know what they’re doing. Seth Remington wouldn’t have a clue.” From the dubious look on Ross’s face, the lawyer had obviously never been around horses.

  Ross walked around to sit in the client chair beside the one where she’d been sitting. He patted the empty seat as an invitation, and Katie calmed herself enough to sit down again. “Worst job?” he asked once she had settled in.

  “They do almost everything that needs to be done. They have to take care of all of an animal’s physical needs. Cleaning stalls. Feeding them. Taking care of minor injuries. Getting equipment on them before races and taking care of them afterwards. It’s like... Did you ever hear the old kids’ fable about the elves and the shoemaker?” Ross nodded, so she continued. “Grooms remind me of the elves. They do so much work, but no one really notices them. Unless they screw up. Then they catch hell. And they get paid next to nothing while working really crappy hours. You really expect me to get this Remington guy to muck out stalls and clean harnesses?”

  Ross nodded again. He leaned forward and reached over to put his hand on the arm of Katie’s chair. “I know this is going to be a big change for you, but you’ve got to think about what a great opportunity this is. The colt is good. From what I’ve read about you, I know you can make him better. I can’t believe how many winner’s circle pictures I saw you in. You’ll get the salary too. And there’s always...” He stopped mid-thought as if censoring himself. “Let’s just say there’s a bonus when the season’s over.”

  “Bonus?”

  “I can’t tell you how much now, but if you nurse the guy through the season, you’ll be rewarded. Well rewarded. So, will you do it?”

  With a resigned sigh, she finally nodded in response. “Fine. I’ll do it, but just ’cause I really want that two-year old. When will I get my new groom?”

  His enormous smile told her Ross was pleased with her decision. “I’ll bring him down to your farm tomorrow afternoon.”

  “It’s not really my farm. It’s the training center where I rent some stalls and my room. I just call it ‘my farm.’ It’s easier than explaining everything. But I suppose you already knew that.”

  He nodded; she wasn’t surprised.

  Katie immediately began a mental list of things she would have to do to prepare for Seth’s arrival. What a nuisance. “I’d really like to tell my friends. Surely it wouldn’t hurt if I told—”

  Ross’s eyes looked stern as he shook his head at her and interrupted. “No, Katie. You can’t. You saw the nondisclosure clause. All you’d need is for one person at the track to get wind you’re sheltering Seth Remington. He’d call the press and you’d have cameras camped out at your farm. I mean, he is a member of the Boys’ Club.”

  “The what?” And they’d made fun of the things she’d said.

  “The Boys’ Club. You mean you haven’t heard of the Boys’ Club?” Katie shrugged at the ridiculous question. “You must not watch much television.”

  “Don’t even own one. Besides, I wouldn’t have time to watch TV anyway. What’s the Boys’ Club?”

  “A bunch of rich guys who like to party hard. A couple of senators’ sons, the ex-governor’s son, and a few guys from Grosse Point. All of them spoiled kids like Seth who come from money.”

  “Why would anyone care about what a bunch of losers like that do?” Katie asked, feeling a bit confused.

  It was Ross’s turn to shrug. “I honestly don’t know, but for some reason, the paparazzi love them. It’s like Paris Hilton. Who suddenly decided she was famous?”

  “Who’s Paris Hilton?” Katie felt like a hick.

  Ross shook his head and chuckled. “No one important. You know, Remington isn’t even one of the bad ones. Most of them have been arrested at some time or another.”

  That was the last thing she wanted to hear. “Arrested? For what?”

  “DWI. Drugs. Assault.”

  “And you want a guy like that around my horses? You can just forget it!”

  “Calm down, Katie. Seth’s kept himself out of that kind of trouble. The guy actually tries to help out his moron friends when they’re in a jam. I think the only reason he gets so much attention is because he’s the Remington heir.”

  “And he’s cute,” Katie added before realizing how adolescent she sounded. Ross’s scolding eyes told her he’d caught her comment, and her cheeks flushed hot. “Well, he is. Doesn’t mean anything though.”

  Ross appeared a little annoyed, and Katie wished the filter between her brain and her mouth worked better. One of these days she’d learn to stop thinking aloud.

  “Worst thing Seth has done is wreck a bunch of cars. The guy probably has more speeding tickets than all the people in Cook County put together. He tried to drive Indy cars for a while.”

  Katie stopped for a moment to consider the whole absurd sit
uation. “Let’s see if I’ve got all this straight. He’s a spoiled rotten, egocentric, rich pretty boy. I’ve got to make him work like a slave and hope he doesn’t screw up my stable in the process.” With a heavy sigh, she finally gave in. “Bring him to my barn tomorrow.” She pointed at the thick file. “I don’t suppose you need directions.”

  Ross relaxed back in his chair and laughed.

  She stood up and he immediately followed suit. “And the two-year-old damn well better be something special.”

  Ross laughed again and walked her to the lobby.

  * * * *

  The long drive back to Indiana that night was rough. Even though the end of winter was close, the lake effect snow piled up rapidly, and Katie’s ancient pickup had a nasty habit of sliding around. Ross had offered to put her up in a hotel for the night, but Katie wanted to get home. Besides, the ride would give her plenty of time to think about her bizarre situation.

  She shoved one of her favorite Michael Bublé CDs into the stereo and cranked the volume. She fervently hoped some of the singer’s soft jazz would soothe her frayed nerves.

  Seth Remington was her new employee—a bother in her otherwise organized and orderly life. She worried obsessively about how he would be around her horses. Her thoughts churned in such a state of turmoil, even her beloved music wasn’t giving her any relief.

  How in the hell am I going to turn that guy into a groom?

  All Katie really wanted was to get home to her horses and back to her routine.

  After five hours of slipping and sliding through snow, she finally parked her pickup next to the rented barn she called home. As soon as she hopped out of the truck, Katie put a finger and thumb to her lips and whistled. The responding chorus of whinnies and nickers made her smile. Her horses were happy to know she’d made it home, and she finally relaxed.

  * * * *

  The law offices were quiet and dark, just the way Ross liked them. Nights were always the best time to work.

  He shoved some papers he needed into his briefcase. His phone rang. At first, he thought it would be fine to let the answering service take the late call, but his workaholic personality couldn’t resist the itch to answer. “Ross Kennedy.”

  “Ross, it’s Arthur. I figured you’d still be at the office.”

  “What can I do for you, sir?”

  “Are you ready to take care of things tomorrow? Seth won’t be in the best of moods when you pick him up.”

  Ross continued to overload his briefcase with work he still needed to complete at home. “I figured as much. You explained all of the rules?”

  “Yes, but I’m still not sure he’ll go along with using a different name. I hope he realizes it’s the only way to protect him. The second someone catches on he’s a Remington, there’ll be no way to keep the press away. What name did we use on the license?”

  “The race officials approved ‘Seth Reynolds.’ You know, we should probably give him a nickname too. ‘Seth’ isn’t all that common a name and anyone who’d seen a photo of him... People could catch on. Do you think anyone will recognize him at the track?” If Seth wanted to screw up the whole operation, he could simply get someone to identify him. Sterling had wisely made contingencies for that possibility, but it wouldn’t be what the old man had wanted.

  “I really doubt it. Even if they think he looks like himself, do you think anybody would ever believe Seth Remington is working as a groom? Not likely. Plus, it’s Indiana. Not exactly a Chicago journalist’s usual place to prowl,” Arthur responded.

  “I’ll make sure he gets there tomorrow,” Ross promised. “One way or another.”

  * * * *

  The phone was ringing when Seth walked in the door of his suite. He picked up the handset, glanced at the caller ID, and recognized the number. “Yeah?” he answered as he groped to loosen the tie that had been strangling him all day.

  “Seth. Why didn’t you call me? Did you get done at Arthur’s office?” Kirsten asked. Her words sounded a little too eager and a little too much like scolding. She had no right.

  Seth gave a small rueful laugh. “Oh, yeah. I’m done.”

  “What do you mean? There’s a problem with the will?”

  How did you tell your fiancée you would be broke and homeless as of tomorrow morning? “Kirsten, we really need to talk. Can you come over?”

  He could almost see her irritated expression. “The press still there?”

  “What the hell do you think? Of course they’re still here. Are you coming over or what?” He massaged his throbbing forehead with his fingertips. Where’s the aspirin?

  “No, I’m not coming over there. And you can quit sounding so pissed at me. This isn’t easy on me either, you know.”

  Seth couldn’t remember a single reason he had decided to marry the woman. “Thanks for being so supportive. Good night, Kirsten.”

  “Will I see you tomorrow?”

  The day just kept on giving.

  When he’d finally made his decision about the demands his father had given him, Seth had easily anticipated her reaction. She’d play the wounded party because of her nature. It was time to set himself free. “No, you won’t see me tomorrow. Kirsten, I’m leaving in the morning.”

  “Leaving?”

  “Leaving. You can keep the damn ring.”

  “You’re breaking up with me? With me? Why?”

  Because you didn’t even come to my father’s funeral, you selfish...

  “We wouldn’t work anyway. I was just going through with it for Pops, but he’s... gone.”

  “Seth, can’t we talk about this? I know we hadn’t set a date, but do you have to break the engagement? What will my friends say? God, it’ll be in the papers.”

  “Yeah, it probably will. But you know what, Princess? They’ll say you caught a lucky break. Goodbye, Kirsten.” He disconnected the phone before she could even reply.

  Seth put the handset back into its cradle and stared at it for a moment. Then he grabbed the phone, jerked it out of the wall, and flung it across the room.

  No more calls tonight.

  He had to go pack two suitcases.

  Chapter 4

  The silver Lexus slowed and turned off the winding country road. Seth shook himself out of his near-sleep, wishing he was somewhere else. Anywhere else.

  The interminable trip from Chicago to some backward town in Indiana had finally come to an end. Ross steered the car toward an enormous barn standing at the end of the gravel road.

  “You can’t be serious,” Seth groaned. “This place looks like a third world country.”

  Sheets of corrugated aluminum formed the roof, skylights periodically interrupting their orderly pattern. Similar panels lined the exterior with only a single small window breaking the long brown wall that could be seen from the road. The barn and facilities weren’t anything like his father’s stable— at least not like the little he’d seen of it.

  “It’s a nice place,” Ross replied. “It may not be up to your standards, but... what is?”

  Nice? What was nice about a barn full of horses? “Do I have to stay here? In the barn?”

  Ross shook his head as he pulled the Lexus alongside an open sliding door at the end of the barn. “Katie got you a room at the track dormitories.”

  At least that didn’t sound so bad. Maybe it would be just like college.

  Seth furrowed his brow as he glanced at several two-wheeled carts lined up in a neat row along the barn’s outer wall. Everything around him looked so strange, so foreign. “What the hell are those things? Rickshaws?”

  “Ask Katie.”

  Ross obviously wasn’t much of a conversationalist.

  “Is that an outhouse? A real outhouse? Good God! Does the health department know about this? It’s got to violate some law.”

  Ross shook his head. “People use port-a-johns every day. It’s not against the law. It’s fine, Remington.”

  Nothing’s fine, Matlock. Seth had a hard time not giving voic
e to the insult. Four hours in a car with a stoic lawyer who obviously didn’t like him hadn’t done much to cool the grief and anger still bubbling through his mind. All he wanted was to go home. Instead, he was being dropped off at a barn in the middle of nowhere to work with people he didn’t know. Priceless.

  Seth opened the car door, stepped out, and found his foot in a pile of manure. “Damn it!” He looked around desperately for some remedy to fix his defiled Italian loafers. With few options, he finally walked away from the car and began to wipe off his shoe on some frosty grass. “Doesn’t anyone clean up after these animals?”

  “That’s your job now,” Katie answered, walking toward them through the open barn door. Dressed in a thick blue flannel jacket, she’d pushed her hair into a gray knit cap. A few red curls escaped their restraint, peeking out from beneath the material. “But we don’t clean up the manure in corrals or on the road. Nature takes care of that most of the time.”

  As if to prove her point, a flock of small brown birds descended on the place where Seth had dirtied his shoes and methodically picked through the pile.

  “Disgusting. This place smells like a... like a...”

  “Like a barn?” Katie asked with a laugh. “Get used to it.” She glanced at Ross with wide eyes as if to plead one last time to be spared this trial. “Did he gripe like that all the way here?”

  Seth scowled at the question and pulled his coat tighter against the late winter wind.

  Ross warmed to the question. “Gripe? Classic understatement. He bitched about everything. Let’s see... Did you know that horses are stupid animals?”

  Katie shot Seth an angry glare.

  “Wait, there’s more. Indiana is a barren wasteland. Only Thoroughbreds are real racehorses. Women have no place in sports. Ever. And... um...” He snapped his fingers as if trying to refresh his memory. “Oh, yeah. Horse racing is run by organized crime syndicates.” He glanced at Seth. “Did I leave anything out, Remington?”