Still, he didn’t see her having much experience with the stresses life-threatening danger brought. It had nothing to do with her being a woman or even a former beauty queen. No one as softhearted as Kate should ever have to learn how to deal with that sort of thing.
He closed the door and hoped she was able to get some solid sleep.
He’d just finished taking off his boots when a light knock sounded at his front door. He opened to find an equally exhausted Rick.
“Since when do you knock?” he asked.
Rick snorted. “Since you have sexy little beauty queens in your home. Did she make it to bed yet?”
Stretching his neck, he pointed toward the bedroom. “She finally settled and crashed a few minutes ago. Where’ve you been?”
“That’s right, you missed last night’s surprise.” Rick grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and slumped to the couch.
“What happened?” Concern deepened his voice, but he kept it low so he didn’t disturb Kate.
After taking a long drink from the bottle, Rick answered, “A few minutes after you two left, Kate’s cousin met me at your truck and gave me the third degree.”
Confusion battled with exhaustion, so Trent asked, “Which cousin?”
“The pretty one.”
Interesting. Rick never used the word pretty. Hot, sexy, fine, plain-Jane, yes, but he’d only heard the man say pretty once, in reference to a rare classic car. Rick then offered the owner nearly double what the car was worth and got denied. He’d been heartbroken. He’d like to call his friend on the use of the word, but then he’d clam up. In the long run it’d be more fun to see where it went.
“I was in the process of telling her everything was fine—” Rick picked at the label on the water bottle.
“So you were lying to her.” Afraid he’d fall asleep in the comfort of the couch, Trent leaned against the wall.
“Exactly, when she bolted like a fucking rabbit midsentence. Confused and wondering if she was crazy, I chased after her. Turns out she’d seen someone peeking around the barn’s corner behind me when we were talking and chased after them.” Rick waved a hand in the air, as if still baffled.
Trent rubbed his hands over his face, and his words came out muffled. “Who was it?”
“A damn kid. Filthy, scrawny and terrified. I caught her and have the bruised shins to prove it. We tried to take her home, but she gave Leigh the slip. Leigh wants to go to where she thinks the kid lives later today. Apparently it’s a really nasty situation. Sad? Yeah, sad is probably a better word.” Rick leaned back against the couch and laid his head on the back.
“Do you think she could have started the fire?” It couldn’t be that simple, could it?
“My gut says no, but I’m not going to completely discount her. Kate has enough trouble surrounding her and I’m certain your beauty queen’s tangled up in the case I took for Todd Hill. She sure as fuck doesn’t need a vindictive teen adding to it. There was no denying the kid was upset when we found her. Who the hell knows with kids?” Rick had been an only child and raised in boarding schools. He’d gone all of his life without strong family ties.
Some things, not even money could buy.
“What could the girl have against Kate?” For that matter, he couldn’t see why anyone could have a reason to be angry with her. She was too damn nice to everyone.
“When I caught her she called us horse thieves. It’s likely that Bonnie was hers before her dad was arrested.” Rick ran a hand through his black hair.
“Shit.” The last thing they needed was one more person to investigate.
“Yeah. It’s a hell of a mess and one more thing I’ll have to sort out.” Rick stood and pulled a set of keys from his pocket.
“So when are you going to pick up Kate’s cousin? Leigh, is it?”
“I’m supposed to meet her at noon. How did you know I was going back to Riley Creek?” Rick cocked his head at Trent, full of suspicion.
“No reason.” He just looked at Rick and grinned.
Rick stepped out of Trent’s car and onto a driveway of more weeds than gravel. He shut his door and Leigh did the same, the sound loud in the quiet surroundings. This was where Mary lived? He prayed Leigh was wrong.
A small, ancient gray house sat amidst acres of knee high grass. The size or age of the home wasn’t the issue so much as its pitiful condition. At least two windows were broken and the holes had been covered on the inside with cardboard. The screen door hung loose and Christmas lights that looked to be twenty years old wrapped around the sagging roofline. The nearly hollow shell of an old rusted car sat on blocks at the house’s side and it looked like a village of ramshackle sheds filled the backyard. A small pasture sat beyond that, surrounded by fencing a stiff breeze could blow over.
Leigh met him at the car’s trunk and barely spared him a glance as she took in the scene.
“Someone’s been here recently.” Her voice was filled with what sounded like equal parts heartache and determination.
“How can you tell?” He might be observant, but all he saw cried out with neglect and despair.
“The cardboard in the windows is new. It would have been taken when they decontaminated the place after Tom’s arrest. Let’s go.” She hefted several bags from a local grocery and clothing store. He lifted a case of water and followed as she walked up the driveway and around to a backdoor.
“Stop. Let me go in first. I’ll take a look around and let you know if it’s safe. That’s why I came, remember?” He set the water down and drew his gun.
“I really don’t think that’s necessary.” Quiet despair laced Leigh’s voice
“There’s no telling who or what’s in there. I’m with your brother on this one.” He’d learned long ago that to never go into a blind situation unprepared.
“You don’t get it now, but you will when you open the door. Go ahead and do your hero thing.” She used the same resolved tone women used when a man was getting ready to do something stupid.
Curious, but more worried over the possible threat, he opened the door and looked inside. As she’d said, there was little to see. The place looked like an inside out skeleton. Nothing remained except for bare framing and flooring. Everything else was gone.
“Damn.” He stepped inside the hot, stuffy house and looked around. Sadly, it was a quick survey.
“This is what happens when they decontaminate a meth house. When they’re finished, there’s nothing left but the bare bones. Anything that may have had contact with the chemicals has to go. Let’s set everything over here.”
He followed her lead and holstered his gun. He retrieved the water and put it next to the bags of food and clothing he’d purchased. She’d asked him to stop by the store and, when he’d realized what she was doing, he’d added to the cart and insisted on paying. After seeing the house, he wished they’d bought more. He’d told himself they were wasting money and time. There was no way anyone lived here, but when he spotted an old ratty horse blanket on the plywood floor, he was proven wrong. Beside the pallet lay a plain, lined notebook and a couple of pens and pencils.
He picked up the notebook and flipped through it. His gut clenched.
Drawings. Scenery, dreamy landscapes and horses. Pages and pages of horses.
Jesus, she was talented. The kid belonged in some fancy art school, not a hole in the wall shack with no food or running water. There was no one to care for her. What if she got sick or hurt? Who did she have to talk to? Did she have any friends? Probably not.
A gnawing hole opened in his chest. He didn’t know whether to put his fist through the wall or cry.
Leigh’s gasp whispered over his ear as she looked at what he held.
“Did you leave the phone and the note?” Anger and grief raced for the lead, setting his blood afire.
“I did. I set them on top of the water. I figure that’s the first thing she’ll take.”
“We didn’t bring enough stuff. She needs more clothes and food. What about the he
at? We caught a break today, but when the temperature soars, this place will be a fucking hotbox. She’ll need more paper and some real fucking pencils.”
“I know.” Soft and sad, Leigh’s words weren’t much more than a whisper.
“I’m coming back tomorrow. She needs a fucking pillow and…and a sleeping bag to lay on. No. Fuck no. What she needs is a fucking home with walls and water and electricity and people who give a fuck and worry when she’s out at two fucking a.m.”
“I know.” The sweet acceptance in her voice only made his anger burn hotter.
“Why? Why the fuck are people such assholes? She’s a fucking kid. Damn it.” He fisted his hands at his side and barely resisted the urge to put both fists through the nearest wall.
Leigh stayed quiet beside him and he liked her all the more for it.
No excuses. No meaningless words.
“Let’s get out of here. Maybe if she’s nearby, she’ll see us leave and at least put some food in her belly.” He risked a look in Leigh’s direction and she just nodded, eyes bright with unshed tears.
“I really wanted to be wrong, Rick. I swear.”
He sat back in the fussy chair, not giving a fuck if the dainty thing broke. His uncle stood, staring at a painting on the floor, and leaned against bookshelves on the left wall.
“This is my latest acquisition. I’ll have it hung over the fireplace after it’s been appraised and insured.” Bailey didn’t bother to step aside to actually let him look at the painting. He stood in front of it as if transfixed by the image. “It was painted in 1962, almost a year to the date before he was assassinated.”
He had things to do and really couldn’t care less about Bailey’s latest acquisition. He wanted to get the job done and move on, not wax poetic over antiques. “Look, if you’re serious about this, I think it’s time we do something about Preston. That fire idea of his only caused a bigger headache and there was no benefit. It was absolute panic with zero thought. Before that fire? There was no way to prove that Kate’s fall was anything other than an accident. Now? It looks damn suspicious and it’s only made Dawson pull her closer. If Preston’s not careful, which he won’t be because he’s an idiot, he’ll get caught and you know as well as I do, he’ll squeal loudly. I get why you wanted to bring him in at the start, but he’s a far greater liability than asset at this point.” He glared at the old man’s back, frustrated with his lack of response.
“He promised he could get me what I wanted.” Bailey sounded like a child who’d lost his toy. He turned around and looked to him.
“Yes, he did and, in the beginning, I can see why you listened to him. But, if anything, he’ll only make obtaining your goal harder.” His patience wearing thing, he stood.
“You’re certain?” He heard the doubt in Bailey’s voice and it sickened him. If a man couldn’t obtain his end goal on his own, then he wasn’t a man at all. To rely on an idiot like Preston Hayes and expect them to deliver? It was laughable.
“Absolutely. It’s time to cut him loose.” At this point, he’d go behind Bailey’s back and take care of things himself. He’d have to make it look accidental, but it would still work.
“How would you do this?” Bailey walked around and sat behind his desk. He ran his hand over the polished wood, lost in his thoughts. “This is a near identical match to his, you know. I haven’t been able to track down his desk yet.”
He shook his head in frustration at the old man’s fixation. He didn’t get it. “I know how to get rid of both your biggest obstacles in one clean move.” In the process he’d have to go against someone who might actually pose a challenge. It had been too long since he’d had one, and it would be a good exercise. His skills were going to waste.
“Then do it. Just make sure I get what I want.” Bailey, still half lost in his adoring trance, could barely be heard. “He died too soon. There’s no telling what he would have accomplished if he’d been allowed to live out his full life. I’ve modeled my career after him and it’s near time for my path to continue where his ended. My image is almost complete. The only thing I lack is the proper wife.”
He looked at the painting as he rose to leave. John and Jacqueline Kennedy stared back at him. Well, hell. Maybe his dear old uncle wasn’t as sane as he’d thought.
Chapter Nine
“What are you doing?” Trent spoke from somewhere behind her. She hefted the shovel and tossed the pile of horse manure into the wheelbarrow. Turning her head she saw his silhouette in the barn’s massive doorway, his fists planted on trim hips. She could just make out the ridges of muscle beneath a shirt that molded his chest and belly. Her mouth watered and her fingers itched to feel the strength of those muscles.
“Kate. Did you hear me?” She shook the lust-fueled fog from her head and focused on his words instead of his body.
“I did.” She scooped up another pile and hefted it into the wheelbarrow.
“So, what are you doing?”
“I’m cleaning Bonnie’s stall.” Why she wasted her breath answering him, she didn’t know. What else would she be doing in a barn with a shovel?
“Why?”
“Well, she’s an animal and they make messes. Animal owners cleanup their animals’ messes. I figured since you breed, raise and train horses, you would understand the reasons why horses require clean stalls.”
“Yes. I do understand. We have stable hands. There’s actually one just outside the barn now. Ray will be in and work his way down the aisle. He’ll get to Bonnie’s stall shortly. Her stall was cleaned not too long ago. It won’t hurt her to wait a bit longer.” Something about his tone grated over her nerves. Yes, she’d used the dry, smartass talking down to a peasant tone first, but that didn’t mean he could use it on her in return.
Did it?
Yes, she had no doubt it wouldn’t be long until Ray returned to make another round. She’d always admired the Mitchell’s stables, but even her friend’s spacious, over-the-top barn had been eclipsed by Walker Stables. Even when they’d brought Bonnie in during the early morning, well before sunrise, the place had been staffed. No one had blinked when Trent unloaded her little, mixed breed and he’d housed her alongside his most expensive horses. She believed he meant it when Trent said his horses’ value went beyond the monetary.
Blowing out a breath, she leaned on the handle. “I was already here, and it needed doing. Horses make messes. It’s not a big deal for me to clean up a few horse apples.”
“There’s no need for you to shovel shit. You’re a…guest.” Something in his pause made her stop and think as well. What was he getting at?
“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, I do, but she’s my horse. My responsibility. I don’t mind taking care of her. I enjoy it.” Why was he looking at her like he didn’t believe her?
“I get it, she’s your hobby.”
Oh no. He’d brought out the listen here, little lady tone. She took a deep breath and scooped up the last pile of manure and pitched it. She would have rather thrown it at his head. She put the shovel nose to the ground and held the handle in one hand with the other on her hip.
“She’s not a hobby. She’s mine. It’s that simple.”
He looked at her as if she were from another planet. “You’ve seen this place. You won’t find better care for her anywhere. I don’t see what the problem is. There’s no need for you to get dirty.”
“I’m not questioning your farm’s ability to care for her. I like caring for her. As for getting dirty? I’ve never minded. It’s called work, and I’m not above it.” What was his problem? Then it hit her. Anger made her see red. “Trent Dawson. You’re a snob.”
He looked at her, and it wasn’t only like she was from another planet, but had grown two heads as well.
He looked down at his clothing and then back to her. “Are you blind? The only time I’ve put on a suit in the last year was for our date. I’m not a snob.”
“Yes, you, in your dirty boots and with your calloused hand
s, are a hypocritical snob. You think that because I look good in heels and have worn a crown, it means what? I think I’m above getting dirty or doing physical work? Take a look, Trent.” She held up her hand. “No chipped nails. I can do both.”
He rubbed a hand against his hair, coming a bit closer. “I’m not trying to piss you off. I just don’t understand why you’re being so stubborn.”
“Stubborn?” Her blood pressure went through the roof. “I am so over men calling me stubborn! Why is it that when a woman sticks to her guns, she’s stubborn, but men are strong under the same circumstances? I can be strong, too, damn you.” She could. She would. Even against someone as strong-willed as Trent Dawson.
“Kate. Put the shovel down.” He raised both hands in a calming gesture.
She tightened her fist on the handle and glared at him.
“What makes you think you can tell me what to do? Well, you can’t, not with Bonnie. I mean if you want to be an ass and forbid me to use your stupid shovel, then fine. You can have your shovel. But you are not telling me what I can and can’t do with my horse.”
“Kate.” Is he fighting back a smile? The nerve!
“I suppose you’re going to tell me that even the manure belongs to you? Well, here. You can have it.” She grabbed a handful and strode forward, not stopping until she stood toe-to-toe with him. Some small distant part of her warned that she was overreacting, but she was so fed up with everyone either looking at her like she was crazy or was somehow a failure because she was happy on her little farm in Potter County.
She was tired of everyone thinking they knew what was best for her when no one knew except her. Every man she encountered seemed to think they could step in and take over. Then, like a good little woman should, she was—for some stupid fucking reason—supposed to accept their will and smile prettily.
She was done.
She took the manure and smashed it into his chest.
And the bastard smiled at her like she was cute. Cute!
“Do you feel better?” The corner of his mouth twitched. Had the man lost his mind?
Protecting Kate: Dark Horse, Inc: Book 1 Page 14
