Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
“Locking a door wouldn’t kill you,” Sebastian said.
“Don’t.” Thatcher’s voice dropped a level yet still had no real emotion. “The track, Capri,” he repeated.
Without looking at him again, I turned to walk in that direction.
King was watching me, or perhaps it was Sebastian and Thatcher he was watching, but his focus was this way. A crash caused me to jump, and I saw King begin stalking toward the stables just before I turned around to see Sebastian and what looked like a heap of something smashed into pieces beside him.
I looked from the pile to him to make sure he was okay when I realized he was holding a gun. My hand flew up to cover my scream when King broke into a run, reaching behind him and pulling out a gun that had been hidden under his shirt.
“Don’t go after him, Sebastian!” King shouted.
This felt like a bad dream, not real life.
“Not gonna be riding Zephyr today,” Miller said behind me. I’d forgotten all about him and the horse. “Probably best you go on home. King will be in touch.”
Where had Thatcher gone? Had he broken something and left? I was confused about the guns and the yelling. What had I missed?
The blonde came running out of the stables, clothed, but not wearing much. Her tiny dress did little to cover up anything. The disarray of her hair only reminded me of what I’d witnessed and how I wished I could wipe it from my brain. Although at least I had that image to keep my head on straight and stop my fantasizing about Thatcher. Being reminded of the kind of woman he was attracted to was like a bucket of ice-cold water over my head.
His storming off and slamming the door when I’d climaxed while he was just asking me inappropriate questions made a little more sense to me. He clearly hadn’t realized I was attracted to him. When I made it obvious, he hadn’t been happy about it because he never intended to have sex with me.
“Go to the house!” King told Sebastian.
Sebastian’s jaw was clenched tight, and his shoulders rose and fell with heavy breathing. Finally, he nodded and tucked his gun back where it had come from before glancing back out at me. I was still watching it all, even after being told by Miller to leave.
I could see the regret—or was it sympathy?—in his gaze. I couldn’t be sure. He headed for the path that led to their mansion on the hill while King made his way inside the stables. I noticed he didn’t put his gun back, and that bothered me. I didn’t want him pointing a gun at Thatcher.
Shaking my head, I decided this was something I needed to get away from. Whatever they were all dealing with, I didn’t want to be a part of it. Calling the other trainers and setting up appointments sounded like the safe, solid plan. It didn’t mean I wouldn’t come back here, and if I got the chance, I would ride for them too. But I was not letting my world revolve around Shephard Ranch.
As I walked back to my car, whispers of stories I’d heard over the years replayed in my head. Things I’d rolled my eyes at and chalked up to people being dramatic and bored. No. I shook my head. I was not entertaining the gossip of small-minded folks. That was ridiculous. It was the South. People had guns … maybe not all of them had them hidden on their bodies, ready to pull out at any minute like Billy the Kid, but still, it was legal … I thought.
• Twenty-One •
“Okay, so we’ve accomplished that Thatcher is now our jockey’s stalker.”
Thatcher
My father’s scowl when I entered his office was expected. I didn’t bother glancing at the others in the room as I made my way to the bar. King, Storm, Sebastian, Barrett, and Ronan were all here, which meant this wasn’t just about my shooting Christopher in the shoulder. Had to be business involved too. Good. I needed a distraction.
“Christopher is out of surgery, and Doc said he will heal up normally,” my father stated while I poured a glass of bourbon.
“Excellent. I was losing sleep,” I replied.
“He was our best exercise rider,” he pointed out.
I shrugged. “And he’s gonna heal up nicely.”
My father narrowed his eyes. “He has decided that working here isn’t a good fit for him.”
I didn’t give a fuck.
Taking the seat farthest away from the others, I took a drink and waited for this to have a point.
“Shooting a man for no reason leads to questions and issues I have to deal with,” he replied.
That was where he was wrong. I’d had a reason. I always had a fucking reason.
I looked at Storm. “You got a smoke?” I’d had my last one before walking into the house.