The Novels of Nora Roberts Volume 1

by Nora Roberts

  “That’s a hell of a horse,” Gabe murmured in a voice that felt rusty. Dazed, he looked down at Kelsey, saw her cheeks wet with tears. “That’s one hell of a horse.”

  “Yes.” Even as the tears rolled, a laugh bubbled up in her throat. She lifted her arms, circled Gabe’s neck. “Congratulations, Slater. You’ve done it.”

  “Christ.” No amount of control could hold back the foolish grin that spread over his face. “Jesus Christ, we did it!” He swung her up and around, oblivious of the cameras. She was still laughing when he covered her mouth with his.

  In his room a few hundred miles away, Rich stared at the television screen. He hadn’t gone to New York. With what he’d expected to happen, it was smarter, safer, for him to stay behind.

  He nodded as the cameras cut from the victorious colt to its owner. “Enjoy it while you can, boy,” he muttered, and toasted himself with twelve-year-old scotch. A smirk twisted his lips over the celebrational kiss, the announcer’s breathless voice identifying Gabriel Slater and Kelsey Byden as very friendly rivals.

  Rich sat back and waited for the chaos. The colt would be led to the spit bucket, as he would be after any race. And then, Rich thought, and then Gabe wouldn’t be smiling so big. Even better this way, he decided. Even better to snatch away the prize after it had been granted.

  Things had worked out perfectly. Thanks to Naomi’s pretty little girl. If she hadn’t come out to the barn that night and interrupted what was planned for the colt, he’d never have raced.

  But he had raced, and he’d won. Now, moments from now, the shocking announcement would be made that Double or Nothing had an illegal drug in his system.

  Not only would Gabe lose, but he would face scandal, derision, and shame.

  Preparing for his own victory, Rich topped off his drink. Liquor slopped, spilled by a jerk of his hand as the official announcement was made.

  Nine. Five. Two.

  His shocked brain didn’t take in the nattering about purses and payoffs. He gaped as the screen filled with the horse and rider, each blanketed with white carnations. He saw Gabe, his arm possessively around Kelsey’s shoulders, congratulating his rider, then lean in, as sentimental as a movie cowboy, to kiss the sweaty colt.

  His glass struck the screen, and both shattered. The air reeked of liquor as he lunged out of the chair. For a minute he lost his mind, kicking and beating the television until his knuckles ran red, then he heaved it off the table. His only motive was to destroy it, to somehow destroy the machine that showed him such images.

  When he finally stopped, gasping and drained, the air stank of smoke and scotch and his own violent sweat. His knuckles were bleeding, and his breath was coming in shuddering rasps. He tripped over a broken chair and righted the bottle of scotch. Most had pooled on the rug, but there was enough to clear the bile from his throat when he chugged from the bottle. Enough to clear his mind again.

  Heads will roll, he promised himself. And since he apparently could trust no one to carry out a simple task, he’d have to take care of things himself.

  In the week that followed Double’s Triple Crown win, there was barely time to think. The routine at Three Willows had to continue, despite the celebrity of their neighbor. The racing season didn’t stop at Belmont, nor did the daily care and training of horses allow for sitting on laurels.

  And Kelsey had her own ambitions, not the least of which was to mold her own champion. She’d been given her opportunity with Honor, and she was determined to make the most of it.

  She had not forgotten her goal of piecing together the puzzle of the past. Charles Rooney might have refused to take or return her calls, but she had every intention of running him to ground. He would talk to her again eventually. She would visit Captain Tipton again as well. And if necessary, she would go to her father and ask him to relive those months of his life day by day until a clear picture emerged.

  For the one that was taking shape now was of a woman who had loved her husband. One who had certainly made mistakes, mistakes of pride and vanity and stubbornness in trying to force his hand. But no matter how coolly, how calmly she tried, Kelsey had yet to find the piece that turned a willful, even reckless young woman into a murderer.

  “Hey, sis.”

  “Channing.” Kelsey turned, sponge in hand, to kiss him. “I haven’t had five minutes to tell you how glad I am you’re here.”

  “Despite the ache in my back, I’ve only been here a couple of hours.” His shirt was already streaked with sweat. “Moses put me to work so fast it feels as if I never left.”

  “I didn’t think you were coming back.” With careful strokes, Kelsey sponged off her yearling’s face. “We’re midway through June.”

  “It took me a while to work it out.”

  “Candace is still against your being here?”

  “We can safely say she’s not too happy with me. We had a hell of a battle.”

  “I’m sorry.

  “No, it was good. A lot came out that had been festering. In me, anyway. She wanted me to carry on the family tradition. All my life that’s been a given. I’d be a brilliant surgeon like my father, like his father, and so forth. She expected it. I let her expect it.”

  “It isn’t what you want?”

  “I’m going into veterinary medicine.” His eyes held steady, as if he expected a protest, or worse, a quick, indulgent laugh. Instead, she stepped forward and kissed both cheeks.

  “Good.”

  “That’s it?”

  “I could give you the routine about how impossible and how frustrating it is to try to live up to other people’s expectations. Especially family. In the past few months I’ve had firsthand experience with that. But I figure you already know. She’ll come around, Channing. She loves you, and under it all, she only wants what you want.”

  “Maybe.” He shuffled straw under his foot. “I hated fighting with her. I guess I hate knowing I’d have backed down if the Prof hadn’t stood up for me.”

  “Dad? Really?”

  “It was like having the Seventh Cavalry charge in—without the bugles and blazing guns.” He grinned. “He just talked, in that slow, patient way of his. I’ve never seen him go against her that way. I think it was the shock that he took my part instead of hers that turned the tide.”

  “He loves you too.” Nibbling her lip, she went back to her work. “Are they having problems, Channing?”

  “Things are a little strained between them. But with me here, they’ll have the time and the privacy to work it out. Anyway, she blames you more than the Prof.”

  Kelsey made a face. “I guess I’d better patch things up there.”

  “Mom’s not one to hold a grudge. Not for long, anyway. Her sense of order’s been shaken, that’s all. It’s going to take her a while to get used to it.”

  “Excuse me.” Reno stood at the opening of the box.

  “Reno, hi.” Kelsey shifted, her hands still busy brushing the yearling. “You remember Channing, my brother.”

  “Sure. How’s it going?”

  “Good. How’s the shoulder?”

  Instinctively, Reno rotated it. “It’s coming along. I’ll be ready to get up in a couple of weeks. I’ve got some offers to ride the European circuit this season.”

  “I heard Moses mention it,” Kelsey said. “We’re sending High Water over in a few weeks. I hope you take him up on it.”

  “Might. That’s Honor, isn’t it? Naomi’s Honor.”

  “It sure is. What do you think of her?”

  “I’ll let you two talk horse,” Channing cut in. “If Moses catches me loitering, he’ll dock my pay. Good seeing you, Reno.”

  “Yeah. See you around.” He stepped into the box and crouched. A Thoroughbred’s legs always came first. He said nothing, circled the horse, ran his hands along the chest, the flanks, the withers before coming around to examine the eyes and teeth.

  “She’s a pretty one,” Reno said at last. “Terrific form, lots of heart room. You’ve had he
r in the gate?”

  “Yeah. She doesn’t have any trouble there. She spooks sometimes, but since we started using a shadow roll, she’s settled.” The colt nudged her arm, and obliging, Kelsey took a carrot out of her pocket. “She’s gentle, but there’s fire in there. Moses thinks we should try her out in a couple of races next year. Are you interested?”

  “She’s a pretty one,” Reno said again, and felt twin tremors of hope and despair. “Why do you want to put me up on her?”

  “I’ve seen you ride, for one. And I like the fact that you don’t just mount a horse for a race. You come to workouts, you come to the barn. You treat it like a partnership.” She hesitated, nuzzling the horse. “I know you loved Pride, Reno. It showed, the way you felt about him, and how you thought about him. That’s the kind of rider I want for Honor.”

  He looked away, fighting the urge to curl up in the straw and weep. Her words were like small, sharp knives slicing at him. “I did love that horse.” He couldn’t steady his voice, and gave up trying. “He’d have done anything for me. He broke his heart for me.”

  “Reno, you can’t blame yourself for what happened.”

  “I wouldn’t have hurt him. How were we supposed to know the race would kill him?” He stared blindly into Kelsey’s face. “How were we supposed to know?”

  “You couldn’t,” she said gently. “Sooner or later we’ll find out who wanted to hurt him.”

  He let out a trembling breath. “Sooner or later.” He took a step in retreat. “That’s a fine horse.”

  “Will you ride her?”

  Reno gave her a look of such crushing despair that she moved toward him. But as she reached out, he made one low, animal sound in his throat, and fled.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-FIVE

  “I TELL YOU, GABE, IT BROKE MY HEART.”

  Kelsey cupped her wineglass in both hands and tucked her legs up under her on his long, comfortable sofa. It was a lovely evening, the doors and windows wide open to welcome the flower-drenched breeze. But she could still see Reno’s face, the utter hopelessness of it, washed in the striped sunlight of Honor’s box.

  “He needs to get up again.”

  Gabe was stretched out on the same sofa, puffing smoke at the ceiling, his feet in Kelsey’s lap. It wasn’t that he didn’t sympathize with Reno’s plight, but he was, quite simply, exhausted. Who could have known that the rapid-fire round of publicity, meetings, phone calls, and requests would be more tiring than a week’s ditch digging?

  At the moment he’d have preferred a shovel and a sweaty back to the mind-numbing figures and futures tallied by lawyers, accountants, and brokers.

  Just that afternoon he’d had to turn down an offer for the rights to his life story, and Double’s, for a TV movie-of-the-week.

  “I don’t know,” Kelsey continued, while Gabe’s thoughts wandered. “I thought that, too, that he just needed to get up for another race, Until . . .” She rested her head against a cushion. Gabe had put on Mozart, for her. She knew he preferred basic rock or the wail of blues to the classic melding of piano and orchestra. “It wasn’t just an altruistic gesture, you know, my asking him to ride Honor. I want the best, but I did think it would help him. Instead, I made things worse.”

  “You can’t know that.”

  “You didn’t see his face. When I think it through, I know what losing Pride did to me. How much it hurt. And even though I loved that colt, I couldn’t have been nearly as attached as Reno was. He’s blaming himself, Gabe, because he was on the colt when they went down.” She toyed with her wine. “I’m thinking of asking Naomi if she could persuade him to find some therapy. Do you think . . .” She glanced toward Gabe. His eyes were closed. “Am I keeping you up?”

  “Sorry.” He opened one eye. “I was drifting.”

  “No, I’m sorry.” She shifted, began to rub his feet. “You’re worn out. I saw that when I walked in the door. I should be asking you how your meetings went today instead of trying out my Psych 101 theories on you.”

  “If you keep rubbing my feet, you can try out anything you want on me.”

  She chuckled, then set her glass aside so she could do a better job of it. “So, how did the meetings go? Should we be celebrating a new record for syndication?”

  “No.” It was fascinating, he thought, and rewarding, to discover just how many erogenous zones there were on the sole of a foot. “I’m not syndicating Double.”

  “You’re not?” Her hands paused. “But, Gabe, the last set of figures you mentioned were astronomical.”

  “I don’t want to share him.” His eyes opened again, fastened on hers. “I listened to all the advice, the offers, the numbers, and I decided to do what I want. When something’s mine, it’s mine.”

  “That’s a very impractical, emotional decision.”

  “What’s your point?”

  She shook her head. “Well, there goes my plan to scoop up some shares of a Triple Crown winner.”

  “That depends.” He used all of his willpower to keep his muscles relaxed, to keep his voice light. “You can have half of him.”

  “Half?” Her brows rose as she pressed her fingers to Gabe’s instep. “I think that’s a bit more than I can afford.”

  “A lot of people will tell you you’re right. You can’t afford the terms.”

  That had her lips moving into a pout. “I think I’m a better judge of what I can or can’t afford. Okay. What are the terms?”

  “There’s just one.” His eyes flashed to hers. “All you have to do is marry me.”

  Reno went to the barn first. The barn that had once been Cunningham’s. No one stopped him. The guards, the grooms all knew Reno. He had a meeting with Jamison, he told them, and they accepted it. They accepted him.

  He had a need to see horses again, to smell them, to touch them. He did give some thought to going to Jamison, to pouring out body and soul. But what difference would it make? Nothing could be changed. Nothing could be fixed.

  He’d spent a great deal of time during the last weeks blasting out scattershots of blame. But in the end, he understood that they all ricocheted back to him. He’d been the one who had taken the syringe. He’d been the one to plunge that poison into a beautiful, courageous athlete.

  It didn’t matter how the instrument had come into his hands. He understood that now. He accepted that now. He’d murdered something he’d loved, and in doing so, he’d destroyed himself.

  Like father, like son. Reno leaned against a patient mare and wept. It came through the blood, he thought. It came through the breeding. The excuses he’d used were smoke and mirrors. Had he really believed he’d been trying to avenge the father he’d never known? That was the weapon used against him as surely as he’d used the needle on the horse.

  Weak. He was weak as his father had been weak. And damned, as his father had been damned.

  So, there was only one thing left to do.

  He would end it as his father had ended it. Complete the cycle begun by a man he’d known only through photographs and grainy news clips. The man whose ghost he had honored above even his own dignity.

  As if in a dream, Reno left the barn and the soothing scent of horses. He walked to the tack room. The tack room that had once been Cunningham’s.

  It was a full ten seconds before Kelsey could find her voice. It was, she supposed, a typical-enough proposal from a man like Gabe. Challenging, cool-blooded, and risky. Very deliberately she shifted his foot out of her lap and picked up her wine.

  “If I marry you, I get a half share of Double.”

  “That’s right.” He’d been expecting, at least hoping for, a different kind of reaction. “A half share of Longshot, and all that goes with it.”

  She sipped, studying him. “And a half share of you, Slater?”

  That irritated him. The amused patience in her voice, in her eyes. He swung his legs off the couch and stood. “I’m not Wade, Kelsey. We go into this, we take each other whole. This won’t be a tidy, make-t
he-best-of-a-bad-hand deal with an option to fold.”

  “I see. Once I ante up, I’m stuck.”

  “That’s it exactly. Since I’m naming the stakes, I’ll show you the cards I’m playing with. I want you. That’s my high card. It’s going to take a lot for you to beat that. Maybe you figure the odds are tilted. You got stung once before, and you don’t want it to happen again. But this is a different game, with different players, and from where I’m standing, the stakes are a lot higher.”

  She kept her eyes on her wine. And he’d said she couldn’t bluff, she thought with some pride. Still, she knew better than to let him get a good look at her face until she was ready to call.

  “You think I’d back off from marriage, shy away from a full commitment because I lost once before? That’s incredibly insulting. Nearly as insulting as this half-assed proposal you’re stumbling through.”

  “You want flowers and candlelight, a ring in my pocket?” He’d meant to give them to her. The fact that he’d rushed his fences only infuriated him more. “I’m not giving you anything he gave you.”

  Her eyes lifted then, with just enough temper in them to mask her heart. “Oh, now who’s hobbled by the past, Slater?” She slapped her glass on the table and rose. “Why don’t you just drag me off to—to Vegas? That would be a perfect milieu, wouldn’t it? We can say our I dos over a crap table.”

  He nodded stiffly. “Fine. If that’s what you want.”

  “What I want is a simple, straightforward question to which I can give a simple, straightforward answer. So, you can either ask me, or you can go to hell.”

  Narrow-eyed, he studied her, but for once he couldn’t read her face. How could he, he realized, when for the first time in his life someone else held all the cards?