The Black Sheep and the Hidden Beauty (21 page)

“Married couples fight, even golden ones.”

“True. But these two cultivated their images like politicians running for president. No way would they—Gene especially—have been so careless as to have an argument that could be so readily overheard.”

“You're saying they staged it?”

“No, I'm saying it blew up in such a way that it got out of hand before either of them could get a grip. At least that's how JuanCarlo related it.”

“He's the head trainer?”

She nodded.

“And he told this to you?”

“I knew him, we got along well. In fact, it was because we did and he respected my work that I was so frustrated when I'd get passed over. But no, I wouldn't have been privy to that kind of personal conversation. Word was he told the assistant head trainer.”

“Just how far down the chain were you in this incident?”

“Third. Along with several other trainers who happened to be in the tack shed when we overheard Juan's assistant talking about it with his lead trainer.”

“So, a bit more than rumor.”

“Well, who knows how embellished or distorted it was, or how many times he'd told the story himself, after hearing it from Juan. But it was enough that I believed some kind of altercation had occurred.”

“And no one blabbed this?”

“I can only speak for myself, but I never heard it directly related in the media reports, beyond the typical speculation, anyway.”

“What were they fighting about?”

“Trust.”

“As in one of them was cheating on the other? Or thought to be?”

“I honestly don't know. Juan didn't hear what they were saying exactly, except it was pretty accusatory, and what the trust issue was about, wasn't revealed. It ended right when he got there. It was news because they'd fought at all. The topic was speculated over, of course, endlessly, but that's all we knew. It was a one-time event. And that was all eclipsed by the fire. I think it was pretty much forgotten after that.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? That's it? Okay?”

“Well, I have to do some digging, of course, but—” He caught her look. “What? It deserves looking into.”

“Why?”

“Because whatever was going on between them might have something to do with the fire.”

“Who cares? I mean, what does that have to do with me?”

Now he looked over at her. “Good question. What does all this have to do with you?”

“I had nothing to do with Geronimo's death.”

“But it's related. To why you ran. To why you're hiding. To why that investigator wants to talk to you.”

“Who said I ran?”

He slowed the truck and looked over at her. “Are we really going to play this game again? You said you were going to let me help. Then you have to tell me the whole story.”

“Well, the story has nothing to do with Gene and Kami Vondervan.”

“I can't know that until I know what the story is about.”

She sighed, folded her arms, then fidgeted in her seat, then sighed again, before swearing under her breath. “I don't really know who it's about. I didn't think it could be them because they owned him, I mean, they'd just bought him, so—”

Rafe began to realize where this was headed, and just how in the dark she truly might be. “Answer me this. Do you think his death was an accident?”

She wrapped her arms around her waist, then finally shook her head. “I know it wasn't an accident.”

Holy shit
. Now they were getting somewhere. And it was a somewhere he really didn't want her to be. “And how would you know that? Do you know who did it?”

She shook her head again. “No. No, I don't.” She looked at him. “I truly didn't have anything to do with it, not even unintentionally.”

“I know it wasn't you, Elena.” And he did. She was worldly in some ways, and so very not in others. “It's not in you to even see the evil that exists in man, so I know it doesn't exist in you. No matter the provocation.”

Relief slumped her shoulders.

Rafe slowed the truck further, but his grip on the wheel could have bent steel. He looked over at her, and for the first time, she looked vulnerable to him. “How do you know it wasn't an accident?”

She turned those huge brown eyes to him, and finally let go of the secret she'd been harboring for so long. “I was the last one to see Geronimo alive. Or…the next to the last one. The last one was the killer.”

S
he'd gone and done it. She should be freaking out that she'd told someone, anyone. And to what amounted to a virtual stranger, by anyone else's measure. But when she looked over at Rafe and found his steady gaze aimed back at her, all she felt was relief.

He slowly pulled the truck and trailer off the side of the road, then shifted in his seat to face her. “You were with Geronimo? Out in his private stable?”

She nodded. “I—I wanted to see him. He's a great champion and I wanted to meet him, look at him up close, talk to him, just—you wouldn't understand. It's my dream to train a horse like him one day, and there he was, greatness, just a few hundred yards away. I was never going to be the one working with him, never going to get the chance.”

“So, how did you? Who got you in? JuanCarlo?”

“No one got me in. I let myself in.”

“The reports said the security system wasn't fully in place yet.”

“No, it wasn't. Gene was still arguing with JuanCarlo over how much was needed and what type of system was best. Then Geronimo was able to be delivered to them ahead of schedule and, well, no, the system wasn't complete.”

“And this was common knowledge?”

“Common enough.”

“JuanCarlo had that much say in the security of Charlotte Oaks?”

“As head trainer, he had say in what would best protect the horses. Gene owned a number of high-profile racing horses, but none that had ever been a Crown winner, much less one as beloved as Geronimo.”

“Even though he wasn't racing any longer, he still warranted the star treatment?”

“And then some. Partially due to his history, and partially because of what everyone hoped would come next. He was being put to stud, and there were high hopes.”

“And big dollars, I would presume, for anyone who wanted one of his offspring.”

“Yep,” she said, but bit her lip against saying anything more.

He looked at her, but thankfully didn't press further. He seemed more interested in what exactly had happened that fateful night, and how her presence related to it. “Walk me through it.”

“I was leaving my stables—it was late. Middle-of-the-night late. There was an injured horse—”

“Right, the reports said JuanCarlo was called to the main barns in the middle of the night when one of the stallions hurt himself kicking at his stall.”

“Yes. But I didn't know he'd been called down. It wasn't my horse, but I had gone over to look in on the situation, as had a few others. But it seemed they had it under control, so I left, intending to go back to my trailer and to bed. And that's when I saw the lights still on out at the private stable and JuanCarlo's truck parked out front. I decided to go out, see if maybe he'd sneak me in just to see Geronimo.”

“What kind of relationship did you have with JuanCarlo?” He lifted his hand. “I'm not suggesting anything, I'm just asking.”

“Friends,” she said. “Professional friends. He'd worked his way up through the ranks and so he appreciated hard work and dedication more than politics. He saw skill first, and gender second. So I made it my business to try and work as near his team as I could. Strictly business, but we did get along. As I said, that made it doubly disheartening when I didn't get moved up.”

“Did you ever think he expected that you'd do something…more to earn the promotion?”

She tried not to lose her temper. They were fair questions, ones she'd have likely asked herself, but that didn't mean she had to like them, or their implication. “Like I said, he was a professional first and last. As was I.”

“But you thought you could sweet talk him into letting you get a peek at the newest acquisition.”

“No, I thought I could appeal to the same drive that had led him to campaign heavily to be the one to oversee Geronimo, that I also have to eventually work with thoroughbreds of that caliber.” She folded her arms. “There's nothing salacious to this story, so I'd appreciate it if you could—”

“I meant no disrespect,” he interrupted. “I didn't,” he reiterated when she gave him a disbelieving look. “It's just, in my line of work, well, it's not unusual for there to be a salacious angle. And it doesn't reflect poorly on you if he was a womanizing jerk who wanted something more than you were willing to give.”

“Well, he wasn't. Not with me, anyway. As it turned out, it didn't matter because he wasn't there. He'd already been called down to the other barns to see the injured stallion—I'd just missed him. I went out one way while he was coming in another.”

“So who let you in?”

“No one. No one was there.”

“Right. The poker game. It was in the news, remember?” he said, when she looked surprised. “All the negligence reports.”

“Right.”

“So, the reports were correct, then? No one else was there?”

“No,” she repeated. “As far as I know, anyway.”

“But no one knew you were there.”

She shook her head, dipping her chin a little and wishing like hell she didn't have to run the events of that night through her mind ever again. “No.”

“So, is it possible there was someone else there? Someone you didn't see? Someone no one knew was there, like no one knew you were there?”

That had her looking up. “I—I don't know. It's not a big barn. I—I don't think so. I called out, but no one answered.”

“If you were out there setting a fire, would you have answered?”

She shivered. In all the times she'd relived that night, over and over again, awake and in endless nightmares, she'd never once contemplated that possibility. She'd worried that someone had seen her coming or going, especially the someone who'd started the fire. But she'd never thought they might have been there, hiding, waiting for her to leave. “If someone was there, if they saw me, then don't you think they'd have said something about my being out there? If for no other reason than to shift the suspicion to me?”

“Not unless they were afraid they'd been spotted, too.”

“But if I had, it would have been obvious right off that I didn't tell anyone.”

“Which might be what got you quid pro quo. You kept quiet, so did they. Perhaps if the fire marshal had been able to build a case, they'd have come forward.”

“But he couldn't.”

“Exactly. However, the insurance investigators—”

She gasped, and her heart skipped a beat. “You don't think—is that why they called me? You think they finally have proof I was there?”

“Did they say anything that led you to believe that?”

She shook her head. “He just kept questioning me about Geronimo and what I knew about him, and if I'd had contact, but he never accused or even intimated that it was anything more than standard interrogation procedure.”

“And yet, he was pretty adamant about talking to you.”

“I figured it was because you guys had called and stirred things up that they figured they'd look at me again, just in case. If for no other reason than to prolong paying the claim.”

“But you were scared. Sheet-white scared.”

“Of course I was. I didn't know what they knew, or why they wanted to talk to me after such a long period of time. It can't be coincidence that it happened right after you started snooping around. They weren't this interested in me when it all happened, so why now if not that?”

“I don't know. I guess we need to find out.”

“Rafe, you can't go digging—”

He reached over and put his hand on her arm. “When I was asking after you, I was direct and aboveboard about it, as I had no reason not to be. But the direct route isn't the only way to get answers.”

“Still—”

“I know what I'm doing, Elena. And I'm very good at my job.”

She held his gaze a bit longer, then finally sighed. “Okay, but I want to know what you're doing. And who you're talking to. Every step of the way. No more surprises.”

“No more surprises.”

“Good.” She huddled a bit more in her seat. “Okay.” But she didn't feel remotely okay. She wasn't used to this, used to someone else having any say in how things were going to be handled.

“Come here,” he said, reaching over and tugging at her arm.

“What?”

“You're too far away. This can't be easy for you,” he said, pulling her across the bench seat, reaching under it and shifting it back as far as it would go before turning and pulling her into his arms, so her back rested against his chest. “Much better.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss against her temple. “I know it doesn't count for much, but I'm not liking dragging you through this, either.”

It was all so much—unburdening herself, trying to reconcile having someone else in the loop, then this…this overload of sensations with him holding her, caring about her…“I can handle this,” she said, while not making the least effort to climb out of his lap.

“I know you can. It's one of the many reasons I've been such a pit bull. You're not an easy person to help.” He tipped her head back, so their gazes could meet. “Thank you for trusting me, Elena.”

She trembled a little, wanted to be strong enough to scoot away, but had the presence of mind to finally admit to herself that this felt good. Having someone on her side didn't just have to mean physical support, it meant emotional support, too. And her world wouldn't come to an end if she admitted she needed a little of that right now.

“It's a lot. This,” she said. “And it's good. Almost too good. I'm—I'm not used to it, so I might not always handle it very well, but it's not because I don't appreciate it.” She turned a little more, so she could look more fully at him. “Now that you know more…if you don't want to get involved, I'll understand. I—”

He shut her up with a kiss.

And that felt pretty damn good, too. How he had gone from complete stranger to this in such a short time, she had no idea. But he was here. And he was staying. And, for now, she liked it that way. Enough to kiss him back.

And despite the fatigue, the stress, the worry—or maybe because of it, or maybe because it would always be that way with them—it quickly got out of hand. And she did absolutely nothing to stop it. There was so much left to be said, so much more to go through, and this felt so very, very good. There wasn't enough of this in her world, and she, quite greedily, decided to take it now that it was here.

Rafe seemed of the same mind as he shifted them both around, sliding to the middle of the seat so she could straddle his lap. Both of them groaned when she settled her weight more fully on him, the rigid length of him fitting all too sweetly between her thighs. His hips lifted and she pressed down as he continued his almost decadent assault on her mouth. She kissed him, dueled tongue with tongue, as they pulled and yanked at each other's clothes.

Safely off the highway, in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere, with only the starry sky as company, she shut out everything except this man, and this moment.

Struggling with their clothes, they broke apart. “This isn't…even as a teenager, I didn't—” he started, then stopped as he dragged his shirt over his head. His breath was coming in warm gasps as he finally wrestled free and helped her do the same before bracing her face with his hands. “You deserve better than the front seat of a truck. I want you on the softest linen sheets, I want you—”

“You want me now,” she told him, then pinned him to the back of the seat and kissed him for a change. She had no experience with this sort of thing, so she just went with what felt right. Considering the deep growl that came from him, and the way his hips pistoned off the seat, she figured she was doing okay.

He reached between them and undid first the button of her pants, then his. She wriggled hers down her hips, lifting up to slide them down further, then froze with a loud gasp as he used her leveraged position to help himself to the very tight tips of her nipples.

“Oh…God. You—that is—” She gave up trying to find the words and instead let her head drop back, never so thankful for the roomy interior of her truck cab as when he leaned her back over his bracing arm and took his sweet time paying almost reverent attention to first one, then the other, turgid tip.

She sank her fingers into his hair, keeping his mouth warm and wet where she wanted it.

“I want to taste all of you,
mijita
,” he murmured, and she shuddered, hard, at the very thought of his hot mouth taking the rest of her to the places he was already taking her now.

She wriggled her hips, wanting—needing—to feel him there, too, knowing she couldn't have both at the same time. “You're right,” she managed, “a bed would be great right now. Hell, a blanket would do.”

“You have one?” he asked, lifting his head, making her whimper a little in disappointment at having that lovely sensation cease for even a second.