Backstretch Baby (9 page)

“Spent some time locked up?” she asked, shading her eyes and studying the crude tattoos.

“Some.” He reached down and checked Bristol’s chest with the back of his hand.

“I didn’t think licensed PIs could have prison records.”

“I’m not licensed.”

She edged a step closer. Scott sometimes relied on outsiders for street work, but all his permanent employees were licensed investigators. “So you don’t know Scott very well?” she asked. “Do you have an office in his building?”

Rick shook his head, his expression hidden behind his dark sunglasses. “No. Our communication is generally over the phone.”

“So you were sent because you know horses?” she asked. “And prisons?”

“And because he thought I could figure out the thefts,” Rick said mildly. “Or at least stop any more from happening.”

Some of her resentment eased. He seemed like an up-front guy, probably more biker than investigator. He didn’t seem the type to run back to Scott with schoolyard tales. But she had to know for sure.

“The reason Tizzy was on the track last night,” she said, “was because I had no bridle. It’s against the rules. But I wouldn’t want Scott to know.” She paused, but it wasn’t her nature to prevaricate. “And that’s the reason I’m not comfortable having you around.”

She wished she could see his eyes. His mouth certainly wasn’t giving much away. It was hard and flat, slightly larger on the bottom. A gunslinger’s mouth. But the corners abruptly lifted, completely changing his face. He looked amused now, with laugh lines bracketing his mouth. He chuckled, that same deep sound that had sparked her awareness of him last night.

“Now I understand why you’re trying to run me off,” he said, smiling as if relieved. But there was more than relief circling that mouth. His grin was sensual and rather wicked, and it made her skin hot.

“Tell me this,” he said, still grinning. “Did you ride Scott’s horse when the track was closed?”

She shook her head, flustered by her physical reaction.

“Then it wasn’t his horse that was breaking the law,” Rick said. “So there’s no reason why Scott needs to know about your little brush with security.”

“But I would have ridden Stinger,” she said, “if he were manageable. Tizzy was the only horse I trusted.”

Rick chuckled again. It seemed all he did was laugh and while she liked looking at him, having a man like that around could be very distracting.

She crossed her arms. “I just don’t see why you have to be here,” she muttered.

“I’m only here to help. Can you let me do that? It’s all Scott wants.” He pulled off his sunglasses, revealing grayish-blue eyes that were so calm and level he appeared to be telling the truth. “It’s what I want,” he added, his gaze skimming over her body.

“I suppose,” she said, unable to pull her eyes away from his smiling mouth with words that seemed to have a double meaning. And she was way too aware of his teasing. Now her breath was uneven and it seemed as if every part of her was humming.

“Guess we should switch this bridle now,” Rick said. “So you can get Stinger out before they close the track?”

Eve checked the path again. Still no sign of Ashley and Miguel, and she did need help. Rick seemed willing, and extremely able. “Stinger needs a larger cheek strap,” she said slowly. “And a stronger bit.”

She gestured at the picnic tables. “Friends gathered some old tack. And they made a special replacement bit. That’s the reason I’m able to ride today.”

“Okay.” He gave an agreeable nod, as if using discarded tack was the norm in every race stable. “I’ll put this horse away and make you a larger bridle.”

She hesitated. He seemed useful, at least for now. But was he trustworthy? She didn’t want him carrying tales back to Scott.

“What sort of bit do you want?” he asked, as if sensing her indecision.

She nibbled at her lip then blew out a resigned breath. “The ring bit,” she said. “There’s one on the picnic table.”

“Okay, boss. I’m on it. Just give me a couple minutes.” He winked and led Bristol past her toward the barn.

She couldn’t help but smile back. It seemed she had acquired a new groom. One that was tough, capable and pleasantly cheerful. And while she wasn’t delighted that Scott Taylor was his employer, admittedly she was very happy with the employee Scott had sent.

Rick liked most animals but Stinger was a brute, quick to take advantage and not caring who he hurt. Little wonder the locals called him the devil horse.

“This is Scott’s horse?” He straightened Stinger’s head before the horse could turn and grab a chunk of flesh from Eve’s leg. “Why would you want to train an animal like this?”

“He’s a bully,” Eve said. “And it’s true, you can’t trust him. But under a mile he’s hard to catch.”

Rick frowned. “Probably other horses are afraid to get too close.”

“Maybe,” she said. “But that works too. Because when he gets in front, no horse ever wants to pass.”

He tightened his grip on the lead line and led Stinger down the aisle. Eve looked so small sitting in the saddle. Small and vulnerable. “Seems like a relative should find a nicer horse for you to train,” he said.

She laughed as if he’d made a joke, and he had to admit she sat easily in the saddle, appearing to be an extension of the horse. But she had a fresh scar on her wrist so clearly injuries did happen, no matter a rider’s skill. And he didn’t like to think that she might be hurt.

He felt Stinger tense a split second before the horse leaped into the air.

“Sorry,” a woman’s contrite voice called from just outside the door.

Rick muscled Stinger back under control, biting back his curse. The horse’s reaction was excessive but nobody should ever rush into a barn like that.

“This is Ashley and Miguel,” Eve said, pointing toward the newcomers and introducing Rick.

Ashley looked like a Barbie doll, her tiny frame concealed by an oversized shirt, while Miguel was stooped and wizened with a twisted leg that made Rick ache. Miguel was probably knowledgeable with horses, but he certainly couldn’t move very fast.

Miguel greeted him with a cautious nod, but Ashley gave a big smile, her hand flicking to her hair. Her gaze darted from his motorcycle to the bridle parts on the table and then back to his face, her curiosity obvious.

“Rick is here to make sure nothing else is stolen,” Eve said. “He works for Scott’s agency so give him whatever help he needs. I’ll be back in thirty minutes for the next horse.” Her gaze turned toward the path and it was clear she was in a hurry to ride to the track.

“Want me to lead you over?” Ashley asked, her voice less than enthusiastic. “Stinger’s going to be worse than usual after being cooped up.”

Rick turned Stinger in a tight circle, keeping his face impassive. But Ashley looked much too small to handle a rambunctious horse. He couldn’t see how she’d be much help. He glanced up at Eve. “I’ll walk over with you.”

“I don’t need anyone’s help,” she said. “Just let him loose—”

Her voice cut off as Stinger kicked out with a series of bucks, a rather athletic feat since Rick was still holding his head. But her relaxed seat didn’t change. She clearly was an accomplished rider.

Still, he kept his hand clamped on the lead line. No way was he letting her ride this nasty horse alone to the track. But he didn’t want to rouse her stubborn streak. Or challenge her pride. Even Scott felt the need to tread lightly.

“I have to watch Scott’s horse gallop,” Rick said mildly. “This seems like a good time.”

“All right,” Eve said, clearly as impatient as the horse. “Let’s go then. We only have another hour before the track closes. And I have two more horses to squeeze in.”

Neither Ashley nor Miguel spoke, but they looked relieved that she’d have help. Or maybe they were just happy to avoid Stinger.

Rick led the horse along the path. Stinger continued with his unmannerly ways, trying to ram him with his shoulder and then kicking out with ill temper when Rick corrected him.

“Ever tried him with a lead pony?” Rick asked.

Eve laughed. “We never found one that wants to get that close. At Santa Anita all the escort horses are scared of him. He’s actually behaving better here. Probably likes the isolation.”

Rick scanned the path. The horse trail was definitely quiet. The other barns were all situated in the north end and no one else used this walkway. It didn’t even feel like they were at a track. It was actually rather nice. And though Stinger was still prancing, he’d stopped trying to run Rick over.

“This is how Stinger behaves once he’s on the track,” she said cheerfully. “He’s not difficult at all.”

Rick chuckled. Stinger wasn’t his idea of an easy horse. It was apparent Eve had been sent to Riverview with a bunch of misfits, both human and equine. The Thoroughbred she’d ridden last night had behaved more like a cowhorse than a racehorse, while Stinger appeared rodeo ready. And Miguel was too arthritic to be much help while Ashley resembled a jockey, not a groom. Clearly Eve was being set up for failure, just as Scott had mentioned in her case file.

“Who chose the horses you brought here?” he asked, keeping his tone casual.

“My boss. He picked six Cal-breds who’d fit the races here. And whose owners wouldn’t mind if I was in charge.”

“And who chose your staff?” He turned slightly, studying her face. One thing he’d learned was that she spoke her mind. And after years of working undercover, that honesty was refreshing.

“I did,” she said.

He stared along the pathway, hiding his confusion. It was obvious she was doing the bulk of the work, acting as trainer, exercise rider and groom. Naturally an assistant trainer wouldn’t be given the best horses in a barn but why had she saddled herself with such inept staff? If her workers were broke and desperate, they might even be responsible for the thefts.

“Were Ashley and Miguel at the track when you were riding last night?” he asked. “I didn’t see them.”

“They were waiting by the gap.” Her voice warmed. “They flashed a light. That’s how they warned me about the guards.”

So they were a tight group. The pair had been standing in the dark, long past their bedtime. Loyalty compensated for many flaws. It still didn’t explain why she’d burdened herself with needy employees. But if he were too critical, he knew she’d jump to their defense.

“Miguel looks like he has lots of experience,” Rick said, picking his words carefully.

“Yes. He came from Panama. Worked with horses for over sixty years. Probably forgotten more than I’ll ever know.”

“Your boss must miss him.”

She was silent for a moment, the only sound the steady thud of Stinger’s feet. “Yes, but Miguel has mobility issues, and Jackson is trimming staff.”

Her concern was obvious, and it wasn’t necessary to probe any longer. She was simply trying to help Jackson and Ashley, a desire to protect that he understood all too well.

“Guess it’s important for everyone that these horses run well,” he said, keeping his eyes on the curving path.

Stinger was prancing again but at least, after four corrections, the horse had quit trying to run him over. In fact, Stinger hadn’t thrown any more dirty bucks and just seemed eager to reach the track. Obviously he loved to race, and while that was understandable for a Thoroughbred, it was a tough way for humans to make a living.

Salaries at the track were rock bottom. Owners received sixty percent of a purse with ten percent of that going to the trainer and jockey. Eve’s boss would probably give a portion to Eve, as assistant trainer. And Ashley and Miguel might receive a small bonus. But if the horses weren’t winning, it didn’t leave much, only a base salary. And some assistant trainers liked to gamble and work for a percentage alone.

Eve seemed the gambling type.

“I’m guessing you work solely on a percentage?” he said, glancing over his shoulder.

“Yes. Boss promised six percent.” She gave a rueful smile. “So far, that’s six percent of nothing.”

He blew out a sympathetic breath. No wonder the thefts had been catastrophic. The barn was on a shoestring budget. Owners paid a monthly fee to the trainer, but that didn’t funnel down to Eve. His eyes shot toward the multi-colored bridle, held together with rusty buckles. If not for her resilience, the horses would still be standing in the barn—unable to train, unable to race, unable to earn. And it must be especially tough for a rookie, who everyone would watch and criticize a little more closely.

“You need a real bridle,” he said. It would be the first race of her career, and no trainer wanted to be the joke of the paddock. “I’ll buy you one for Saturday.”

“Not necessary.” Her words were so clipped he instantly knew he’d made a mistake.

“You can pay me back after you win,” he said. “I’m sure Scott prefers his horse in conventional tack.”

“I don’t know if he’s coming this weekend.”

“But he might see a win picture. And don’t trainers have to please their owners?”

She turned silent and Rick peered over his shoulder. Her expressive face was filled with so much conflict he regretted criticizing the bridle. He’d been warned she was proud, a fact he needed to remember.

“I’ll put it on my expense account,” he added. “Your boss will never know.”

“Absolutely not,” she said, startling him with her fervor. “Scott is
not
paying for another bridle. He’s already paying Jackson enough.”

Rick clamped his mouth shut. Somehow he’d muddled this even worse. But she’d accepted gifts from the local women—all the bridle pieces and the special bit for Stinger. So it seemed help was acceptable if it was essential for the horse. Just not for her.

They walked another twenty feet before he tried again.

“Too bad Stinger’s face is getting chafed,” he said, reaching up and fiddling with the horse’s head. “This bridle is way too tight.”

She leaned forward, trying to see from her position on his back. “Is it rubbing his cheek?”

He gave a glum nod. “And I apologize. I’m the one who put the bridle together.”

“Don’t worry,” she said. “His head is huge. It’s hard to fit.”