Protecting Kate: Dark Horse, Inc: Book 1

by Amy J. Hawthorn

  Shit.

  Preston.

  He wasn’t above causing trouble. No matter how polished and perfect an image he’d crafted, he couldn’t cover the truth of his heart. The man was pure selfish greed. How her little foal factored into his mess, she had no idea, but she wouldn’t put it past him to do something out of pure spite.

  He’d want to teach her a lesson.

  Trent came around the far corner of the barn and went into the open doorway. She held her breath and, with no other way to occupy her time, she counted off the seconds. She got to eighty-nine and, just as she thought anxiety would get the better of her, he whistled.

  The tightness in her chest eased, but her hands nearly shook with tension. What had he found?

  “Kate? It’s all clear,” he called from inside. The light flicked on just as she entered the doorway. “She’s fine. Come see.”

  Her knees trembled with relief.

  “This isn’t the way you left things, is it?” He questioned her as they looked around.

  “No. It isn’t. She was in her stall with the door shut and latched. I’m certain of it.” Now her little girl stood there in back of the aisle, staring at her and Trent if it were perfectly normal for her to get out of her stall on her own. Full grown horses had been known to perform magic and escape their stalls, but there was no way her little girl could reach the latch on the outside of the door. Her box now stood open and empty. “You didn’t see anyone, did you? I’m not crazy. I can retrace my steps this afternoon. I remember my exact thoughts as I closed up.”

  “I believe you. I’m just relieved she’s here and okay. Now I have to figure out who was here and why. Let’s put your little girl up and go check out the house.” Trent rubbed a thumb over her cheek. The night’s breeze sent her a whiff of his scent. Masculine and a little bit dark, she couldn’t resist breathing more in.

  “Trent, I appreciate this, truly. And you were right. It was stupid of me to rush in without any idea of what I was running into. Thank you. But you don’t need to stay. I take care of everything on my own all the time.” Grateful for the distraction, she pulled away and patted Bonnie’s neck.

  “I’m checking the house before I leave. No arguments. Let’s put your girl to bed for the night. How long have you had her?” Then, as if he slipped out of soldier mode and became the horseman, he looked over Bonnie’s accommodations.

  She knew what he was doing. Trent was trying to put her at ease by talking about her baby. How many men would do that? He’d already gone beyond the call of duty by not only tolerating her date changeup but participating and helping her to make it enjoyable for them both. He’d carted her around because of her heels, protected her from mosquitoes and unknown trespassers. He hadn’t complained once.

  And, to think, he’d paid a small fortune for her at the auction.

  The man deserved a medal and a cookie.

  In no time at all, they had the foal back in its stall and shut up everything else. As they exited the barn, once again the world spun as he swept her up into his arms.

  Slightly breathless with surprise and the heady scent of him, she managed, “Trent. You’ve carried me around all evening. This is getting ridiculous. Put me down.”

  “Nope. Carol will skin me if you get a splinter, and who knows what could be lurking in the grass in the dark? We’re almost back to your shoes. I’ll let you down there.” A moment later, he turned his words to action. He held her hand as she brushed off her feet and slipped her heels back on. He walked slowly by her side, not letting go, as they returned to the truck where he retrieved her keys.

  “Stay here,” he ordered.

  This time she didn’t argue. Not just because the house only contained things, nothing living, but because the last thing she wanted to do was add to the headache she’d likely given him.

  She gathered her clutch and wrap, then tried watching the stars. She failed miserably. She watched the house and began counting again. When she made it to two-hundred and fifty, she stopped and stared up into the night sky. Then she started counting stars.

  Finally, the front porch light turned on, and she carefully made her way to the house. He pushed the door open and, without hesitation, she stepped into his arms.

  “Everything seems fine to me, but I’ll stay a moment while you go through and make sure nothing looks out of place or missing.” He gave her space but stayed with her the entire time.

  “Would you like something to drink? I can’t thank you enough for everything. Bailing me out at the auction, putting up with my silly lake date—at every turn tonight you’ve humored me. Thank you.”

  “You don’t have to thank me. I enjoyed the evening. To be honest, I dreaded the date but ended up having a nice time. Will you be able to sleep? Everything’s secure, but will you be okay when I leave?” Trent raised his hand as if to reach for her, then put it in his pocket.

  “I’ll be fine. I grew up here, and I have Dad’s guns. I have ammo and know how to use them.” She’d worry about Bonnie being in the barn, alone. “He taught me to keep a shotgun loaded and ready at the front door and a rifle ready at the backdoor just in case I have to flee.” She prayed she wouldn’t need either weapon, but if push came to shove, she wouldn’t hesitate to protect herself.

  “You’re sure?”

  Okay, he was way too polite. What should she say or do? Nothing had gone according to plan, and there were no rules for this in the former beauty queen handbook. Her mouth spoke before her brain acted. “I’m certain. I’ve known how to use them since I was sixteen and started dating. Dad was big on making sure I could take care of myself. Would you like to go out again sometime? My treat, as a thank you?”

  Where had that come from? She didn’t want a man in her life. The last one made an utter mess of her world, and in the beginning she’d thought he hung the moon.

  “Ah. Like I said, there’s no need to thank me. Take care, beauty.” Seeming to come to some sort of difficult decision, he kissed her. Soft and warm, his lips caressed hers in a slow, sensual dance.

  Then he pulled away, turned and left while she stood at the door frozen in place like a total idiot.

  He sat in the corner booth of the sports bar and waited on his client. There were smarter ways to handle these meetings, but this fool refused to take his advice. So he sat in a crowded public place, filled with potential witnesses.

  He’d covered his own ass, but doubted Preston had. He seemed to think the world spun on his timetable and, if he thought it, then it must be so. Of course the fucker was fifteen minutes late when he walked through the door and flashed his best smile at the hostess. He looked her up and down, as if he were appraising a horse, then smirked as if she was the one who should be impressed by him. Waving her off as if she were beneath him, he looked around the bar and missed how she rolled her eyes behind his back. No doubt he imagined her pining away without the grace of his presence.

  If he were a decent man, he would have stood and waved him over, but he stuck to the shadows and waited.

  He bowed to no one.

  After several minutes Preston finally saw him and made his way through the fifty-cent wing night crowd. He looked over the booth’s seat as if searching for dog shit before he finally slid in.

  Preston picked up a menu and frowned at it, seemingly disappointed by the offerings. When a waiter came by to take his drink order with a smile, the prick waved him off with a dismissal worthy of a stuck-up Hollywood socialite.

  “I’ve been thinking about the best way to accomplish our goal. I agree that Kate is a stunningly beautiful woman. I married her, after all, didn’t I? Her do-gooder habit will be an added benefit, as well as her former pageant title. By all appearances, if she can be persuaded to ditch the country bumpkin lifestyle, she’ll be a perfect fit for our needs.”

  He stayed silent and waited for Preston to talk his way back to his point. He had an agenda of his own. For the moment, his and Preston’s desires aligned—which was the only reason he�
��d agreed to work with the grasping moron. It was no wonder that Kate MacDonald divorced his ass.

  He’d done his homework and, by all accounts, Kate was a smart, decent woman. Everyone made mistakes, so he wouldn’t fault her for falling for whatever bullshit story Preston had likely conned her with. The only thing he couldn’t fathom was why she’d stayed with him as long as she had.

  Eventually, even the brightest and truest loves combusted under pressure.

  The waiter brought his burger and asked Preston if he would like anything. The pompous ass turned his nose down and waved him off yet again. He didn’t even consider telling him that by not ordering a meal or at least a beer he’d stand out.

  People might not remember the average Joe, but they always remembered jackasses.

  He took a bite of his mediocre burger and washed it down with a drink of beer which, thankfully, was cold. There wasn’t much a cold beer couldn’t fix.

  “I’ve made an outline of how things should be done. It’s all detailed in here. Look it over thoroughly and make sure you understand everything before you act. I won’t tolerate mistakes.”

  He washed down another bite with his beer and pinned Preston with his stare.

  “Are you even listening to me? You haven’t said a single word. Bailey assured me you could handle our plan, but if not…”

  “If not? What then?” He was beyond tired of listening to this idiot’s delusions of grandeur. He’d actually written an outline? “My services are coming to you as a favor. Remember that. I owe you nothing. I don’t work for you. I’m not your friend. I am not your colleague. If I can assist you with whatever hare-brained scheme you’ve come up with, fine. But that’s all you get from me. Nothing. More. Are we clear?”

  It was a rare breed of imbecile who remained within striking distance of a poisonous snake and believed himself immune. Apparently, he’d found such a creature. He finished his beer and reminded himself that there was a greater reason he was cooperating with Preston.

  But that didn’t mean he had to play nice.

  “Are we clear?” He kept his voice quiet so the young couple in the booth behind Preston couldn’t hear him. When Preston paled and his eyes widened he knew he’d been understood.

  “Yes. Ah. Here. Here are my thoughts on what it will take to maneuver Kate where we want her.” With a shaky hand, he slid a manila envelope over next to his plate.

  “Tell me this. What do you get out of maneuvering Kate, as you call it? You had her, couldn’t keep her, and by all appearances, she wants nothing to do with you now. What gives?” He pointed the mouth of his beer bottle at Preston and locked gazes with the weasel.

  “She’s not as perfect as everyone believes. Everyone feels so sorry for the poor beauty queen. Well, I suffered too.” Preston straightened his arm and folded one sleeve without meeting his gaze.

  “You suffered? I need to hear this. Exactly how did she make you suffer?” He leaned back and looked down his nose at the prick.

  “Everyone thinks I’m the bad guy. Nearly half of my clients left and everyone looks at me like I’m a pariah.” Typical non-answer, delivered in an almost nasal whine. Why he’d bothered to ask, he had no clue. It was no surprise that Preston refused to take any responsibility for his actions.

  He’d had all he could stomach.

  He picked up the envelope and, without saying a single word, stood and walked away, leaving Preston Michael Hayes to foot the bill.

  Trent pulled around the driveway’s last curve and cursed at the sight waiting for him. A dull glow shone through his living room curtains. Only one person had the know-how and the balls to essentially break into his home and make himself comfortable. The rich playboy had some unique skills. Rick Evans would be sitting in Trent’s recliner, drinking Trent’s beer and waiting for details on the date.

  After all, what were friends for?

  He’d happily loan Rick his treasured ’69 Camaro anytime the man asked. He’d even take a bullet for him, but he absolutely did not want to suffer through a third degree interrogation about his night with Kate. When had they turned into teenage girls, staying up all night and sharing date stories? Suddenly, the thought of turning around and heading to the closest bar sounded like a damn fine idea. Unfortunately, it would only prolong the inevitable.

  Rick Evans took relentless to a new level.

  He unlocked the door and disarmed the security system, which seemed asinine considering the man who sat in his favorite chair. Rick had more money than God, but what had he chosen to do with his time? Golf or sail? Travel? Nope. The man’s brain never stopped working, so when they’d left the military after Justin’s death, he’d spent all his time learning how to become an even better soldier. He’d claimed he’d become a security expert, but that was like naming a tiger Kitty.

  Trent believed guilt over Justin’s death might have been his friend’s biggest motivator. Maybe it was from some subconscious need to always be prepared for the worst possible scenario, but Rick would only deny it and claim it was just his latest hobby.

  He swore Rick did it on purpose, just to irritate him.

  He shut the door and went straight to the kitchen, ignoring his closest friend as he set his keys on the counter. He retrieved a beer from the fridge, took a drink and returned to the living room. “Can’t you afford a hotel room? You have more houses than I have horses. Surely you could find one to stay in when you’re in town.”

  “This place is huge, and I like your TV and recliner. Plus, there’s the hassle of checking into a hotel. I’m not interested.” A crowd cheered through the TV, drawing Rick’s focus.

  “You mean, you’d rather check up on your hermit friend and make certain he hasn’t started talking to himself yet?” He walked into the living room and pointedly stood next to his chair.

  “Well, yeah. That goes without saying. There’s pizza, if you’re hungry.” Rick watched the game and ignored his presence.

  “I’ve already eaten.” He’d seen the pizza box on the counter. The smell reminded him of things he wasn’t ready to face, at least not in the presence of his friend. He took the remote from the arm of his chair beside Rick, then flipped the channel as he sat on the couch.

  “I was watching that.” Rick didn’t move, not even to turn his head. Trent couldn’t tell if the man was exhausted or preoccupied with whatever random project he’d likely taken on.

  “I know. Now you’re not. So, what’s the story? Are we taking the job or not?” Trent took a long drink of beer and put his feet up on the coffee table.

  “Haven’t decided yet. Tell me how things went with the beauty queen, and I’ll tell you what I know about what Todd Hill wants.” Rick turned his head and pinned him with his stare, one dark eyebrow arched in question.

  “Todd Hill? Sounds familiar, but I can’t place the name.” He ignored the “beauty queen” comment and attempted to steer the conversation toward a safer subject.

  “He’s the distant cousin I mentioned. Todd is a real estate agent and the youngest brother of the late Mrs. Marilyn Bailey. What possessed you to finally go on a date?” Unsurprisingly, like a dog with a bone, Rick stayed on what he considered the more interesting topic.

  “I accidently bought her and had no choice.” He’d catch hell for the story, but Trent had nothing to be ashamed of. He might as well get the entire story out and finish up the interrogation. Then maybe they could get on with business. He’d been up since well before dawn and was exhausted.

  Tapping his fingertips on the arm of the chair, Rick grinned. “I know we’ve skirted the law a few times, but you don’t have to resort to prostitution. If you need…uhm…companionship, I can set you up.”

  He didn’t even respond to Rick’s dry sarcasm other than to flash him a middle finger and then continue. “It’s funny that you mentioned Senator Bailey. I found him standing by in the Mitchell’s stables while Kate’s ex-husband put his hands on her. The dick squeezed her arm with a white-knuckled grip. I broke things up and
sent them on their way. I only caught bits and pieces of their conversation, but what little I heard sounded awfully suspicious. The only thing I was sure about was that Kate wanted nothing to do with either of them. Then, at the Mitchell’s charity auction, it became apparent very quickly that Bailey wanted Kate and was willing to pay almost anything for the date. Before I thought better of it, I stepped in at the last minute and placed my own bid. Thankfully, Stephen named me the winner and ended things. Unless I wanted Carol Mitchell’s disapproval from now until the end of time, I had to follow through.”

  “So how much did you pay for this date?”

  He coughed the muffled words into his hand. “Ten thousand dollars.”

  Rick laughed outright at that. “So, that’s why you’re dressed in a monkey suit. Where did you go?”

  “We ate Pop’s pizza in my truck bed at the lakeshore.”

  “You had pizza for dinner in your truck while wearing a tux? You really know how to treat a girl. I bet she swooned right there on the spot, just before the mosquitoes attacked. She’s gonna beat down your door for another date.” Dripping with dry sarcasm, the big man downed his bottle of water.

  “The lake was her idea, and there’s not going to be another date.”

  Steepling his hands and leaning forward, Rick honed in on the interesting tidbit. “Was she that vain or crazy? Clingy?”

  “When did you become so jaded? What did your last date do to put your panties in a bunch? Considering the odd circumstances that threw us together, things actually went pretty well. She seemed like a nice enough woman.” He had met very few over the years that preferred fishing and horses to a night on the town. Unless she’d picked the lake out of some sense of guilt or as a way to earn points with him? It certainly wouldn’t be the first time a woman in heels had feigned interest in horses or the outdoors in order to get close to him. It probably wouldn’t be the last. Money and social status caused some people to act in strange ways. Though well cared for, her small farm couldn’t be very profitable. It was highly possible that she’d run into financial trouble since she’d left Preston.