The Black Sheep and the Hidden Beauty (30 page)

As badly as she wanted to go with him and find out for herself what had happened, and if that was Johansson's truck presently flipped upside down in a drainage ditch, she understood why it was smarter for her to maintain a nonexistent profile. It was dangerous enough that they'd stopped at all. She had no idea what in the hell was going on with Springer, this agent tracking her, Kenny, or any of the rest of it, but until they had more information, the less she was directly involved, the better.

“I'll stay low. Do—do you think it's wise for you to go over there? What if Johansson is okay and he sees you?”

“He doesn't know me.” He motioned for her to get back in the truck. “Yet. Lock the doors, keep your face averted.” Then he ducked between two cars and disappeared behind a fire truck.

“Be careful,” she said, knowing he was out of earshot, but feeling compelled to say it anyway. She climbed back in the truck and slid down low in the seat. It was a different thing for her, being worried about someone else. Other than Springer, anyway. It didn't make her feel as hindered as she might have thought it would. In her profession, making connections to further your career was a good thing, but making personal connections wasn't necessarily so. Jobs could be fleeting, and most of the men she was around were either competing for the same position, or didn't much care for a woman trying to make it in what they saw as a man's world. And she didn't have time to pursue a social life beyond her immediate realm, which meant her social possibilities were the very men she worked with.

Then Geronimo died, and her realm as she knew it ceased to be. And then had come Kate, and her kids, and Tracey, and Bonder, and a whole host of people and horses whom she'd pretended were merely distractions from the stress of her life. Something to help bide the time until she could reclaim her rightful place in her world.

Only somewhere along the way, she realized now, she'd started to care. Life at Dalton Downs was completely different from life as she'd known it, at least in any recent years. It reminded her more of the world she'd grown up in, with her father training and her mother keeping house for the family who owned whatever farm they were working for. It had been a transient life then, but she hadn't really minded. Maybe because she didn't know anything different. Which was also probably why the transient nature of the racing life had suited her so well.

She hadn't given much thought to any other kind of life. Until now. She inched up in her seat until she could peer out the passenger window, but her view was completely blocked by a passing panel truck.

Rafe had happened now. And she wasn't sure what she was going to do about that. It wasn't like letting herself care about Springer, who had to follow her rules, her life, her path. Rafe didn't have to do a damn thing.

And yet, there he was, intentionally putting himself in harm's way. For her. She could tell herself he was just doing the same thing he'd do for any of his clients. But that was a lie that wouldn't serve either one of them well, and she knew it.

She tucked her arms closer around her waist and tried like hell not to imagine what was going on across the road, but it was impossible. The fact that there were already emergency vehicles on the scene, in a place as rural as this, told her he'd put a pretty hefty distance between them after making his abrupt change in direction.

They'd never have caught up with him. She'd known that, and still wondered why Rafe hadn't been more persistent in trying to close the gap. It was almost as if he'd been intentionally holding them back. She tried to stop her thoughts from veering in that direction. She needed to trust at least one person right now, and he was the only one she had left.

But the track wouldn't be averted, and she started to wonder if maybe, somehow, for some reason, Rafe was the one involved in this whole thing. Her gut said no. Every fiber of her being said no. She replayed his consistent words of reassurance to her, the way he looked at her, held her, made love to her.
Unless that had been a calculated move to gain that exact effect
, her little voice contributed. A little voice that wouldn't be shut out.

She really hadn't known him that long. They'd been going on fast-forward since he first stepped inside that barn, leaving her little time to think things through. Even then it was doubtful she'd think clearly, given the thick haze of hormones that swirled around them. Had she been a complete fool to trust someone she'd only just let into her life?

But then she thought about Kenny, whom she'd known and trusted since she was a child, and what he might have done. She hated even thinking he might have a hand in all this. Or had Rafe just planted that seed on purpose? And what was she to Rafe, anyway? A bed partner? A potential cash windfall if he could blackmail her out of the baby her horse was carrying? He'd been snooping in her business from the beginning. Who knew what his goals really were, or, for that matter, what Kate or Mac or Finn really wanted from her.

No, she couldn't let herself believe that someone like Kate, who'd devoted her life to improving the lives of such severely challenged kids, would have any part in something like this. But how well did she really know the men of Dalton Downs? The men of Trinity, Inc.? Rafe had called them the Unholy Trinity. Maybe that wasn't such a childish nickname after all.

Her thoughts had spun so far beyond her control that she all but leaped out of her skin when the driver's-side door suddenly opened and Rafe filled the space in the cab once again. “You okay?” he asked, sincere concern lining his rugged features.

Maybe that was it. Could she really have her head turned by a handsome face and some pretty words? She didn't want to think it, but she was human, after all. And under severe stress.

“Is it—was it him?” she finally managed, scooting back up in her seat and pulling her seat belt across her chest, as if that could somehow protect her.

Rafe nodded, his expression flat.

Her heart sank and her stomach knotted, all at the same time. “An accident? Was he going too fast? Blow a tire?” Something, anything. Anything other than what the queasy sensation in her gut already told her was true.

“Too soon to tell,” he said. “The investigator isn't out here yet and the county cops are just trying to preserve the scene and still let the emergency guys do their job.”

“If the emergency guys are working, then that means he's alive, right?”

Rafe started to talk, then stopped, as if unsure just how much to tell her.

“It's my life, my horse's life, and possibly Kenny's life on the line, here. You're not sparing me at this point by editing things out to protect my feelings. I need to know what's going on. I need to know exactly how dangerous this whole thing is getting. Is he going to be okay?”

“He's trapped in the truck. They're working to get him out.” He held her gaze. “It's not looking too good.”

She ducked her head, but only for a moment. “Do you think it's an accident?”

“No other car was involved. Skid marks make it look like he slammed on his brakes and swerved, possibly to miss a deer or something, and lost control. Caught the soft stuff on the side of the road and ended up flipping into the drainage ditch.”

Barely more than the wheels of Johansson's truck was visible at road level, so she knew the ditch had to be a deep one, which could have caused a pretty severe impact. Not to mention the large rocks that usually lined the deeper drainage ditches, or that there might be water involved, and with him topside down—she forced herself to stop the images there, covering her face when will alone wasn't enough.

She started when she felt Rafe's hand on her thigh. Then he was reaching for her, tugging her across the middle part of the seat until she was in his arms, her cheek tucked against the steady beat of his heart. “I'm sorry,” he said, pressing his face against her hair.

She'd just been having serious doubts about him—she should be scrambling across the seat, safeguarding her heart, along with everything else. But she couldn't seem to make herself move. Being held by him felt…right. God, she was so tired, so confused, she didn't know what to believe, who to trust, any longer.

“I'm sorry, too. I don't even know what side of good or bad he's on, but—” She leaned back and looked up into Rafe's eyes. “You don't think it was a deer, do you?”

He said nothing, just held her gaze.

She started to tremble. “You know, I was scared before. For Springer, for myself. And for you. I'm past that now. I'm terrified.” She studied his eyes. “What's going to happen to Springer? Where do we go now?”

“Mac's on his way to Kenny's place.”

“But I thought he was away on some other case.”

“Kate contacted him and he turned around, came back to help.”

“But—”

“It's what we do. I'd do it for him.”

She thought about that, the scope and depth of their friendship, their bond. A part of which he was extending to her. It was something she'd witnessed firsthand between them, and she knew then that this was a man she could trust. She should be thanking her lucky stars he'd come into her life, not doubting him. “I thought you already sent someone to Kenny's.”

He framed her face with his hands. “I did.”

“But—” Her eyes widened. “Is he—did something happen to him, too?”

“I don't know. But there should have been contact by now.”

She tried to scramble out of his arms and back to her seat so they could get back on the road. Sitting in one place was suddenly not an option. “You can't send Mac there if something has happened to him, possibly to Kenny, too. It's bad enough I've involved you. And Kenny. And now this other guy I don't even know. I can't involve anyone else. I'll go out there. This is all my fault, this is—”

He held on tight to her, not letting her go anywhere, turning her face to his. “You'll let Mac do what Mac is trained to do. What you and I aren't trained to do.”

“But—”

“Elena,” he said, the gentle tone of his voice at complete odds with the riveting intensity of his eyes. “We're in this. We are going to figure it out. Whatever it takes, whoever it takes. When I'm working, I don't stop because things get difficult. In our line of work, difficult is expected.”

“But dead isn't.”

“No, no, that's not part of the game plan. And it's not this time, either. We're not going off half-cocked here.” He stroked the side of her face. “And we're definitely not going away. So stop wasting time pushing.”

“Rafe—”

He cut her off. “Even if this were just a job, and you were just a client, I wouldn't be going anywhere. But it is you, and you matter. What the hell kind of man do you think I am, if you believe I'd walk away now?”

She blanched. “I wasn't—I didn't mean to insult you, but you matter to me, too, and I—”

“—am very happy to hear that.” He took her mouth then, silencing the rest of her protests with a kiss that left her breathless.

Between the kiss and the events of the past thirty minutes, with her thoughts careening from worrying that he might be part of whoever or whatever was after her to being scared to death that something might happen to him, she couldn't think straight.

He lifted his head, but before he could move away, on instinct she framed his face in her hands, needing to feel him, needing to look into his eyes, needing to tell him what was going through her mind. “You matter. I'm not used to worrying about anyone other than me and my horse. So, if I'm going to trust you, if I'm going to care, then you can't let anything happen to you. Deal?”

He smiled. “I'll do my best. Besides, I have a vested interest in keeping us both safe and sound.”

“Why is that?”

His smile grew. “Because in addition to being relentless, I'm insatiably curious.”

“About?”

“What happens next with us. And there's only one way to find out.”

R
afe pulled the truck around the back of the main house. “Shouldn't we have heard from Mac by now?”

It was the first thing she'd said in almost an hour. Judging from the way she'd all but twisted her fingers off in the meantime, her silence had been hard-won.

“Let's get inside.”

“Shouldn't we talk to Kate? She might have heard from him.”

“We will.” He opened his door. “Come on. We'll know more in a few minutes.”

Despite the fact that it was a rather balmy spring evening, and the sun had just begun to set, Elena rubbed her arms and hunched a little as if she was freezing as she scooted up the path. He had no business thinking about the myriad ways he'd like to warm her up, but that didn't stop his gaze from drifting down along the curve of her hip of its own volition. Nor did it stop him from catching up with her and steering her away from the main house and toward the pool house instead.

“Where are we going?”

“My place.”

“But—”

“I've got an office in there, too. I don't particularly want to deal with any of the house staff at the moment, if you don't mind. In fact, the fewer eyes on you, the better.”

She let him open the door, escort her inside, and close the door behind her before speaking. “You don't think anyone on your staff is involved, do you? They don't even know me.”

“They know
of
you. And no, I don't. But there's potentially a lot of money involved in this situation. I'd like to think I could vouch for the absolute loyalty of every employee here, but the truth of it is, we're all human.”

“Could you be bought?”

He flipped on the lights, then turned to her. “Could you?”

“I asked first.”

His phone chose that moment to ring. He flashed her a brief smile. “I think we both know the answer to that one.” He glanced at the screen before flipping it open. “What do you have for me, Mac?”

At the mention of Mac's name, Elena's eyes widened and she immediately moved closer to his side. He debated putting it on speaker, but he had no idea what Mac had stumbled across out at Kenny's place. He had every respect for Elena and the way she'd handled herself so far, but they were far from out of the woods yet, and he needed her to keep her head. Mac wasn't known for his tact, either, so he opted to vet the information first. She could be pissed off at him later.

“Not a whole lot, and what I do have isn't very good,” Mac replied.

“Where are you now?”

“Scene of the crime.”

Rafe almost repeated the word
crime
, but happened to glance into Elena's eyes and caught himself at the last second. “Which one?”

“Roadside. Johansson. I'm not real sure anything nefarious happened out at Kenny's.”

“What about Aaron?”

“No sign of him, but no sign of any struggle, or any damage of any kind. Tire tracks in and out are consistent with the horse trailer and truck tracks that are all over the place here. Nothing out of place.”

“And the main house?”

“Hard to tell. He's an organized, orderly guy. Lives alone, far as I can tell. Probably has a housekeeper. It's neat as a pin. Nothing out of order, though. Can't tell if he packed before leaving—there's nothing lying around. No dishes, no laundry.”

“No sign of Aaron? No contact?”

“No sign. Phone goes straight to voice mail. No leads there at all.”

“And the rest?”

“Johansson. Yeah, he didn't make it.”

“Injuries sustained from the accident?”

“I'm sure they didn't help, but it was the bullet straight through his head that killed him.”

Rafe tried not to react, but from the way Elena's shoulders straightened, it was obvious she'd picked up on something. He'd do well to remember her sensitivities extended beyond horses.

“It wasn't until they jawed open the side of the truck that they realized the blood wasn't from the impact of the truck flipping on its lid,” Mac continued as Rafe stared into a pair of brown eyes that saw way more than they should.

“Did that cause the accident, then?”

“Looks that way.”

“Close range, distance, what?”

“Drive-by.”

“Oncoming? That would take some doing.”

“Passed from behind, is the guess. His window was down.”

“Wasn't when he passed us. Tinted like midnight, so I'm thinking he liked it that way.”

“The thinking is that someone passed him, rolled down the passenger window, and motioned him to do the same.”

“Car? Truck?”

“Level entry, so a truck. Whether he swerved when he saw the gun, or if the other truck swerved in to force the situation, hard to call. No impact with the other vehicle, though, so no trace evidence there.”

“They working any other scenario?”

“It wasn't self-inflicted, if that's what you're getting at. And it definitely came from outside the vehicle.”

“Possible road-rage incident? Maybe they were playing road tag. Judging from his behavior here earlier, it wouldn't be a stretch.”

“Couldn't rule that out entirely, but I'd say it was damn unlikely.”

“I just don't want us diverting our attention if this is a red herring.”

“My gut says this has to be part of the big picture. We certainly can't afford to treat it otherwise, no matter what the official supposition is.”

“I agree.” But it helped getting Mac's opinion. Rafe knew he was far more emotionally involved than he'd ever been before, and he wanted to make sure his judgment wasn't getting too clouded. “Get any additional info on him?”

“Nothing more than what we had. Haven't had time to do any more digging. That's your arena, anyway.”

“I was on it until we did an aerial of Kenny's place and saw it empty.”

“I'm going to head back down there now, maybe lay low for a little bit, see if anything crops up.” He paused, then added, “You think there might be a benefit in getting someone to check out whatever might be going on at Charlotte Oaks?”

“You think someone there is behind this?”

“I think it had to start there.”

He looked at Elena as he spoke. “Maybe it started with Kenny figuring out Springer's gestation date and, most likely, her suitor. I'm going to check on his financials, see if there might be some motivation there.” He sent Elena a visual apology, but she nodded her understanding. He doubted she liked it very much, but she knew the stakes were too high not to check every last angle.

“Doesn't explain why he took the herd with him.”

“Elena said it was like rescuing the family dog. No matter how desperate he is, he wouldn't leave what amounts to his family behind.”

“No contact from him at all?”

“Zero.”

“That doesn't bode well, no matter the reason behind it.”

“Yeah,” Rafe said, still looking at Elena, “we know.”

There was a long pause, then Mac said, “You know, there could be another angle here.”

Rafe sighed. He knew Mac would go there, knew he had to. And though it pissed him off, he knew his partner was just covering all their bases. Which was always the smart play. He'd have done the same in a reverse situation. Had, in fact, when Mac and Kate reunited last year under less-than-perfect circumstances.

“Have to ask. You sure she and Kenny aren't in this together somehow? Maybe working some kind of deal, possibly playing both sides, with you—us—coming up the loser if all hell breaks loose?”

“If we're trusting our guts here, the answer is yes. I'm certain.” He looked at Elena. “As certain as I have to be.”

He thought Mac would call him on it, and perhaps a year ago, he would have. But since the situation with Kate, and her reentry into all their lives, Mac wasn't as quick to judge. Rafe could only hope that was a good thing in this case.

“I'll check in when or if I get more. A shame Finn isn't around. We'd cover a lot more ground if we had the damn bird.”

“You hate that damn thing.”

“I hate flying in it. I don't hate you all using it for the good of many.”

“Well, he's incommunicado, so it's all-terrain for now. I'll be in touch. And when you locate Aaron—”

“Don't even think about asking me to hold him for you. You have enough to keep you occupied. He's mine.”

“Kate might get jealous.”

“Very funny. But he's my hire, so he's my problem. Besides, the one you want messing up your pretty clothes isn't Aaron.”

Given the fact that Rafe was halfway to a full hard-on pretty much all the time around her now, even with everything that was going on around them, he doubted he could fight that one with any real sincerity. “Good point. Just don't mess him up too much. He might come in handy when all this plays out. If we have something on him, he'll be more willing to play for our team.”

“I'll do my best.”

Rafe clicked the phone off and steeled himself for the barrage of questions he expected from Elena the instant he pocketed his phone. But as she managed to do more often than not, she surprised him by turning and pacing away from him, either in an effort to gather her thoughts, or figure out where to begin the interrogation, or both.

She walked to the windows that lined the front and end of the pool house. All were covered with floor-to-ceiling, wide-panel, vertical blinds, for privacy. At the moment, they were closed, but she shifted one aside at the far end and gazed out. He knew exactly the scene before her.

Past the corner of the pool deck, the backyard sloped gently downward toward the stables and paddock. He knew exactly how much view was afforded by the foliage around the outside of the pool house, because he'd stood in that exact same spot many times, watching her put this horse or that through their paces. Cup of coffee in hand in the morning, glass of wine in the evening. He'd done that pretty much since she'd come to work there. Mac and Finn had been right all along.

She kept her back to him and remained silent. He had no idea if she was truly seeing the vista before her, or if her thoughts were entirely inward at the moment. She'd had to accept and process a great deal today, and despite her few brief lapses into panic, she'd maintained extremely well. He didn't know her well enough to know her breaking point. Maybe she didn't know, either. But from the steady set of her shoulders, he didn't think she was teetering on the brink. Yet.

“Johansson's dead, I gather. And it wasn't an accident.” Her tone was flat, unemotional, stating facts rather than asking questions.

“Yes, he is. And no, it wasn't.”

For some time now, he'd been juggling the need to protect her and take charge of the situation so she wouldn't suffer any more than necessary. She'd told him not to do her any favors, that she could handle it, but he didn't see the logic in pushing a person too far. Not when he could avoid it. Now, watching her, the rigid line of her spine, the tense set of her jaw, he realized that keeping her out caused her to suffer more than if he was open with her. About all of it. He knew imagination was often far worse than even the harshest reality. She'd already seen a lot. The fire. Geronimo dying. It was far more than most people should have to witness. He should have respected that more. Respected her more.

“It wasn't the accident that killed him, though.”

She turned around then.

“He was shot, Elena,” Rafe said quietly, though it didn't lessen the impact. “That's why his truck flipped.”

Her eyes went wide and she froze to the spot. “Shot?”

He nodded.

“I—from your end of the conversation, I thought maybe someone forced him off the road. But somebody
shot
him?”

Despite the absolute horror on her face, Rafe didn't back down from his decision to be open and honest. “In the head. And whoever it was might have helped his truck into that ditch, but regardless, it wasn't an accident.”

She turned back to the window, then back to him, then began to pace. “Shot. Dear God. This has gone too far. Way too far. I should never have kept this a secret.” She looked up, terror and not a little panic on her face. “It was so selfish of me to want to keep her, keep her safe, when I should have just told the truth from that night on.”

“You have no idea what would have happened if you had. We don't know the forces at play. You did what you had to, to protect the one thing you loved. Second-guessing that now isn't going to get us anywhere.”

That seemed to help her regain her grip a little. “Do you think they got Kenny? And—and your guy, Aaron? You don't think he's also—oh my God.” That last part ended on a gulp. Arm braced around her stomach, she spun around again and stood in front of the window. Her shoulders began to tremble and he was crossing the room before he thought better of it.