The Secret Brokers (14 page)

Gwen gently placed her hand over his. “Dad likes to say grace before every meal,” she whispered to him.

Dallas put his fork down and looked across the table to see Ed grinning at Gwen.

“Glad to see you remembered, Gwenie.”

“How could I forget, Dad
?”
Gwen replied, lowering her head.

Dallas keenly observed the interaction between father and daughter, and instantly felt the tension return to the room. And as Ed Pioth began thanking God and a litany of saints for the meal, Dallas felt there was something wrong with the picture he was being presented. It didn’t feel right to him. It didn’t feel…real.

***

On the drive back across Lake Pontchartrain, Dallas was troubled by Gwen’s silence. She had said little after brunch as Ed had proceeded to take Dallas room by room through his five-bedroom home and tell him the details of how much time, and money, it took to renovate each and every room. By the time they had finished their coffee in the den, which Ed had paneled in red oak and floored in an expensive bamboo, Dallas had even felt his nerves fraying around the abrasive Ed Pioth.

“Your father is quite a character,” Dallas commented as he glanced over to Gwen in the passenger seat beside him.

“Be honest—he got to you, didn’t he?”

“No, I enjoyed that brunch. Gave me a great deal of insight into why you are the way you are.”

She laughed, slightly. “You mean it helped you figure out why I am such a bitch, right?”

“I can certainly understand where you get your attitude from.” He directed his eyes back to the road. “What about your brothers? What are they like?”

Gwen turned her attention to the world passing by her window. “You saw my father; well, they’re just like their old man. Arrogant, stupid, and they think muscles define a man.” She looked back to Dallas. “And cooking is for women.”

“I didn’t take it personally.” He paused as he took in traffic ahead of them. “Must have been tough growing up with all that, and not having a mother around to talk to.”

She sighed. “Don’t you dare think that after one meal with Ed Pioth you have got me all figured out. It’s not so easy to figure people out, Dallas.”

“No, it’s not. I’m just saying I understand why you made some of the choices you did.”

“Yeah, well, Ed would tell you my choices have not quite lived up to his expectations.”

“But have they lived up to yours?” Dallas inquired.

“When you’re running as fast as you can from your past, you don’t have any expectations for the future. You just want to make sure you don’t end up back where you started.”

“Is that why there is so much tension between you and your father? Because you married Doug?”

“What are you talking about?”

Dallas shrugged. “You two seemed…I don’t know, uncomfortable together. Has it always been that way?”

Gwen rubbed her hands together. “When I was twenty-two I was involved in a car accident. I almost died, and ever since my father has always been…difficult to be around.”

“Are you talking about that accident with Steven Troy?”

“You’re unusually well-informed about my past. Is that part of a bodyguard’s job, to check up on his client?”

“No, but I make it my business to know everything I can about the person I’m sent to protect.”
He paused and searched her somber profile. “I can only imagine how shaken up your father must have been after that accident.”

She shook her head. “I think my father was more relieved than shaken up by that accident.”

Dallas furrowed his dark eyebrows at her. “What makes you say that, Gwen?”

“I’m afraid that’s something you will have to discuss with him, Dallas. And if you’re smart, you’ll never bring up the accident to Ed. He refuses to discuss the topic to this day. Just let it go. Whatever his reasons, it really doesn’t matter anymore.” She turned back to her window and remained silent for the rest of the way back to her farm.

***

When Dallas pulled his car up in front of her house, Gwen jumped out the passenger side door and ran inside.

A few minutes later when she passed him on the way down the stairs, dressed in her usual jeans and a T-shirt, she mumbled to Dallas, “I’m going to ride.”

For the next three hours she rode three different horses. He watched from the porch as she took each of the animals into the pasture behind the red barn and put them through the same pattern of warm up exercises and workouts. After he saw her dismount the last horse, he figured it was time for her to call it a day, even if she didn’t feel quite the same way.

“You should just try punching a pillow next time,” he suggested as he walked into the barn.

Gwen removed the English saddle from a thick palomino mare and placed it on the stall door next to her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She picked up a brush and turned to the horse.

“Yes, you do. You’re frustrated. Try beating a pillow next time your old man gets to you.”

She ran the brush along the horse’s pale gold coat. “My old man didn’t get to me. I’m pissed because—”

“Because?” Dallas persisted behind her.

She did not say anything and angrily tossed the brush aside.

“Gwen, you know I’m not the enemy,” he said, placing his hands in the pockets of his black trousers.
“I may just be your bodyguard, but I could tell being at your father’s today was distressing for you. Hell, it was uncomfortable for me, and I don’t even know the man. But you can’t let anything he says bother you. You are your own woman.”

“But I am a woman, Dallas, that’s the problem. Something my father always likes to remind me of. And no matter what I do, I will always be a second-class citizen to him. That’s what pisses me off.” She turned away and picked up the brush from the ground. “You just don’t understand, Dallas. You’re not a woman and you have never been looked down on because of your sex.”

Gwen’s cell phone rang out from atop a nearby bale of hay. When she answered the call, she discreetly turned her back to Dallas. Not wanting to pry, he stepped across the aisle to the other stall door. As he was standing there, a horse fly buzzed past him, and he started waving his hands frantically in the air. When he stopped, he saw Gwen staring at him with the most amused look on her face. He thought his embarrassment was almost worth it, just to see her smile again.

She quickly hung up her phone and walked over to his side.

“What is it with you and bugs? Every time something flies by, you damn near have a seizure.”

“I told you before I don’t like bugs.”

“But you protect people, probably hurt people, or even kill them, and you’re bothered by a fly?”

“I don’t kill people,” he declared in his husky voice.

“Oh, well, that’s reassuring.” She observed him for a several seconds. “You’re an odd man,” she finally said
.

“Coming from you, that’s high praise.”

She ignored his comment and placed her cell phone in the front pocket of her jeans. “Tomorrow I have to pick up a rescue in New Orleans at the Fair Grounds Racetrack. That was a groom I know, telling me about the horse.”

Dallas gave a quick nod. “Fine. What time are we going?”

“Are you sure you want to—
?
”

Dallas gave her a menacing stare, silencing her rebuttal.

“Fine, I don’t want to get in a heated discussion about it.” She waved her hand at him. “Be ready to go at three a.m.”

“Why so early?” he asked.

“We have to sneak in before the trainer shows up and takes the horse.”

Dallas shook his head, almost laughing. “You mean we’re stealing it?”

Gwen hesitated for a moment and then shrugged. “Not exactly, but you might want to bring your gun.”

His dark blue eyes once again became cold and distant
.
“Gwen, I don’t think this is a good idea. I was sent to protect you and if this—”

“I’m going, Dallas! This is an animal that might have one more day left to live. I’m not going to stand by and let that beautiful creature die because you have concerns about my safety.”

Dallas sighed, knowing that he would never be able to talk her out of it. “I’ll be ready to go at three.”

“Thank you,” she whispered and walked back to the palomino cross-tied behind her.

“And Gwen,” Dallas called out. “Don’t even think of sneaking out of here without me. I’ll be sleeping on the couch from now on.”

She turned to him. “Lawrence not working out as a bunkmate?”

“
Let’s
just say he’s not the one I am hoping to share my bed with.”

She gave him a cocky grin. “Then perhaps you should give Harley a try.”

Dallas shook his head. “I think I’ll wait and hope for someone better.”

Gwen went over to the stall door and picked up the English saddle sitting there. Dallas thought he saw a hint of apprehension flash in her eyes
.

“You’ll be waiting a long time, Dallas,” she proclaimed and hurriedly turned away.

“Will I?”

Gwen stopped, but did not face him. “I’m just an assignment, remember.”

“Not to me,” he softly said.

Gwen showed him her profile as she kept her eyes focused on the barn floor. “I don’t need another empty relationship with a man, Dallas. I’ve had my fill of them.” She quickly took off down the aisle, heading toward the tack room.

Dallas stood by the stall door, grinning as he watched her walk away. He believed he had finally found a crack in her thick armor plating.

It was a few minutes after three in the morning when Gwen drove her dark blue pick up, hauling a white horse trailer behind it, through her front gate. Dallas waved to agents Taylor and Hickman when the truck passed by their car. As they headed down the narrow road leading to her property, the red taillights of the black car came to life. The Ford Crown Victoria pulled into the open gate, turned around, and proceeded to follow their truck down the road.

“Looks like they are interested in seeing where we’re headed,” Dallas commented as he watched the headlights behind him in the passenger side mirror.

Gwen cursed under her breath. “I don’t need a convoy following me into The Fair Grounds. They will attract too much attention.”

“Don’t worry about them. My bet is they will hang back at the entrance and wait for us to come out,” Dallas assured her. “I think they are more curious than alarmed by our departure. You ever go out to pick up a rescue since they have been watching your place?”

Gwen shook her head. “No. I really don’t have room for another horse in the barn, but when Juan called me about this animal, I figured I would work something out.”

“What’s so special about this horse?”

“They’re all special, but this one…he has suffered more than most.” She paused as she looked back at the trailer in her rearview mirror. “Juan, his groom, said the trainer has been using him as a teaser; a horse used on the track to entice a racehorse to move faster. The theory is that the racehorse won’t want to let the other horse beat him. It’s a way a lot of trainers test the competitive nature of an animal. Unfortunately, it’s hell on the teaser horse. They have to literally run circles around the other horse. Do that several times a day and you can imagine what kind of shape the animal is in. Juan said the horse has deteriorated leg bones with a few free-floating bone chips. The trainer has some research group coming to collect the animal later today. Research is just another word for torture if you’re an animal in today’s world. Juan just found out about it yesterday and called me.”

“And that’s why we’re stealing this horse?”

“Yep. I can’t allow a horse that only needs some rest and good nutrition to be slowly mutilated and tortured for the sake of some experimental research.”

Dallas smiled. “You’ve got a big heart, Gwen.”

“Only for animals, Dallas. Not for people.”

***

Nestled in the heart of the New Orleans neighborhood of Mid-City, The Fair Grounds Race Track was the oldest dedicated racing site in the country. Opened as the Union Race Course in 1852, the racetrack had survived several name changes, a variety of owners, hurricanes, and one devastating fire.

Gwen pulled off Gentilly Boulevard and into the drive leading to the main entrance of the track. She inspected the one-mile oval dirt track, clubhouse, and grandstands rising from the darkness beyond the locked gates.

As Dallas took in the delicate scrollwork on the black wrought iron gates, he nodded to Gwen. “Do you have to check in with a guard first, or do we go around to another entrance?”

She turned to a small, white guardhouse positioned to the left of the entrance. “Juan called the guard at the gate and left my name. I’m supposed to be picking up a sick horse.” She glanced in her rearview mirror. “Where are Taylor and Hickman?”

Dallas pointed to a Ford Crown Victoria parked on the street right in front of the gate. “They figured it out,” he told her.