Jockeys and Jewels Read online

  He ran a hand over his jaw and straightened. Noticed Julie had moved to shelter him from anyone entering the barn even though he was twice her size. She obviously believed he was interested in nothing but the welfare of the horse.

  Of course she had no reason to distrust him. Not yet. His smile slipped a notch.

  “All Otto’s horses get upset when he’s around,” she said. “They’re not much to look at either. Not like your big gray.” She glanced toward Lazer’s stall, clearly eager to ride.

  Kurt turned to his tack room. “I'd rather have an ugly horse that can run than a pretty one that can't. Want to use your saddle or mine? I’m tacking up Cisco so I can escort you.”

  Disappointment swept her face, and he had the odd urge to sugarcoat his words, to see her smile again. Usually he didn’t give a damn what anyone thought. But there was something about her, a hint of vulnerability in those beautiful eyes that tugged at him.

  “This track is new to me,” he added, downplaying that he doubted her ability, “and I want to check the ground.”

  “Of course you do,” she said. Her dimples flashed, and he was glad he’d added the blatant lie.

  Chapter Six

  Julie felt like a queen, surveying her realm over Lazer’s arched neck. The horse’s power was inspiring. He was built to cover ground, and the idea of galloping over hills and fields and valleys was wonderfully enticing.

  She blew out a sigh and peeked at Kurt who trotted beside her on his ugly Appaloosa. Clearly he’d been worried about her ability. But now, after a lap around the track, he seemed reassured. His grip on Lazer's lead had loosened, and a relaxed smile softened his handsome face.

  Handsome indeed. She averted her gaze, afraid he might feel her scrutiny and somehow suspect her thoughts. Besides, she never mixed business with pleasure, especially when that business involved an influential trainer from Woodbine. It was totally normal to want to look at him though—totally normal.

  Last night she’d searched the Internet and discovered he’d managed a family breeding operation for eight years. There wasn’t much information, but over the past year he’d switched to training and successfully parachuted to the top levels, with stables at Gulfstream, Belmont and Woodbine. He must come from money.

  She took another peek at his rugged profile. It really wasn’t fair—good looking, successful, rich. But he was actually here, a top-tier trainer. And she was riding his horse.

  This was a rare opportunity, and she wasn’t going to let anything screw it up. Lazer’s caliber was unmistakable. He felt like a Cadillac and so far, they’d only trotted. She loved galloping at the track: the sounds, the camaraderie, even the smells, but it was definitely more enjoyable when she was on a good horse.

  She couldn’t resist another glance at Kurt. She liked his voice, smooth, confident, even amused, and she was glad now Chandler’s filly had dumped her. She blew out a sigh then realized Kurt was looking at her.

  “This horse sure is smooth,” she said quickly. “Feels like we’re floating.”

  “He’s smooth, but the quick acceleration makes him hard to control. You seem comfortable though. Want to try him on your own?”

  She nodded, her hands tightening around the reins. Kurt was obviously decisive and wanted to see if she could handle the colt. It was a big opportunity…and a bigger risk. Lazer was strong, bursting with energy after being cooped up in a trailer. She’d never been entrusted with such a pricey horse, and no matter how hard she tried to block the fear, it edged in, knotting her gut and making her feel inept.

  Kurt reached over and removed the lead. “Keep him to an easy gallop. I don’t want him doing much today.”

  He trotted Cisco to the outside rail. Suddenly she was alone. On Lazer. She gulped—her thoughts ping ponging. The colt was expensive, impeccably bred, probably ridden by famous exercise riders, famous jocks, people she’d only read about or watched on TV.

  What if she fell off? He might get loose, like the filly yesterday. Might hurt himself. Just last week a horse had slipped on concrete and broken a leg. Aching regret filled her as she pictured the animal, a lovely chestnut mare, thrashing on the ground then valiantly hopping into the trailer. Then—

  Stop. Don’t think of it. Her damp hands clutched the reins. She always daydreamed at the wrong times. Lazer bucked, questioning her control, and she straightened her thoughts, softened her grip. He immediately steadied, and his stride lengthened into a smooth gallop.

  Damn. He was magnificent, with an effortless reach. His sheer ability blew away her fears. He cruised around the track, thrilling her with a promise of untapped speed. But when they rounded the backstretch turn he abruptly threw his head and grabbed the bit, almost hauling her from the saddle.

  She played with the reins, asking him to relax, desperate to avoid a battle of strength he was sure to win. However, the wind shoved her soothing words back in her face. The grandstand was a blur as she called on all her skill to rate the colt, frantically trying to remember everything her mother had ever said.

  Lazer blasted by a horse on the rail. With ears flattened but galloping at less than full throttle, they stormed into the clubhouse turn. She braced her feet in the irons, her ragged breathing blending with his churning hooves.

  Shit. She knew this was a test, her only chance. If she couldn’t control the colt, Kurt wouldn't let her gallop Lazer again.

  The colt pinned his ears and shoved at the bit, his muscled neck stiff with resistance. For a second, she was in trouble. But in sudden submission he softened his jaw and relaxed, and by the middle of the backside she’d coaxed him down to a floating trot.

  It hadn't been easy. Her breathing escaped in painful gasps, and her arms and legs throbbed. She definitely needed to lift more weights, starting that very afternoon. Maybe jog an extra mile.

  A horse and rider pounded alongside them. Kurt reached over and snagged Lazer. “Good job,” he said with a nod of approval.

  “Thanks.” The word burst out in a throaty gasp as she struggled to catch her breath. She sensed his appraising gaze and straightened, wishing she were better at hiding her feelings, hoping he wouldn’t spot her fatigue.

  “You handled him well. Good job,” Kurt repeated. “Horse seems to like the track too. Can you breeze him tomorrow?”

  Joy skidded through her, warmed her chest and slipped out the corners of her mouth. She’d passed the first test. “Yes! Oh, yes. I'd love to ride him again. Whenever you want.”

  She closed her mouth, not wanting to appear too eager…but what a day, what a horse. A major turnaround from yesterday's disaster. And this was the big track. She was no longer riding on the bush circuit. The trainer too! Kurt MacKinnon for Bill Chandler. She’d take that trade any day.

  It was tempting to give her arm a quick pinch, but instead she gave Lazer an enthusiastic pat. The horse hadn’t pulled any nasty tricks and had, in fact, made her look good. She was grateful.

  Kurt hid his surprise as they walked toward the barn. Julie was a much better rider than he'd anticipated and that eased any qualms about letting her gallop Lazer. Plus the colt was the perfect lure. She’d be more malleable if she were trying to earn the jockey ride. And he needed to get close to her. Needed to extract every word Connor had said during his fateful visit to G barn on what had turned out to be the last night of his life.

  She was clearly winded so he waited for her breathing to steady. Dirt dotted her left cheek, and he had the odd urge to wipe it off but jerked his eyes away.

  “Are you galloping Otto’s mare this morning?” he finally asked, his voice huskier than usual.

  “A light gallop. Otto entered her for tomorrow.”

  “Purse money is tempting.” He carefully picked his words and glanced back at her, trying to spot her dimple beneath the dirt.

  She laughed, a melodious sound that brightened the morning, and even Cisco flicked a curious ear. “Otto doesn’t win much,” she said. “He hauls around, mainly between Alberta and Montana. Runs c
heap horses, claimers.”

  “I see.” Kurt slowed Cisco, surprised they had almost reached the barn. “How many times does he ship?”

  But Otto stepped from the doorway, and Kurt quit talking. Damn poor timing. Julie was relaxed and chatty after the gallop, and he liked her smile. He really liked that smile. However, they were only twenty feet from Otto, well within earshot, and further questions would have to wait.

  He stepped off Cisco and held Lazer while she unbuckled the ancient saddle she’d insisted on using.

  “I’ve been waiting for you to ride my mare,” Otto said, folding his arms over his barrel chest and shooting Kurt a scowl.

  A pissy kind of guy, or merely annoyed she was busy with another trainer? Get used to sharing her, buddy, Kurt thought as Julie walked toward Otto, cradling her worn saddle as though it were priceless.

  He led Cisco and Lazer into the cool barn. Left Cisco in his stall contentedly munching hay, and guided Lazer to the wash rack. The sun was warm, the sky unmarked by a single cloud. A horse played on a hot walker, kicking with abandon as he circled beneath the mechanical arm. Lazer bucked once in a show of solidarity then stood still while Kurt hosed water over his sweaty chest and legs.

  The colt dripped a trail of water when Kurt led him from the wash rack to where he could nibble on the sweet spring grass. Lazer chewed greedily until a ruckus sounded behind them. He snorted, head high, grass forgotten. Kurt tightened his grip on the lead before checking out the commotion.

  Two horses appeared on the walkway. The first, a bay mare, bounced like a pogo stick, churning up clouds of dust. Otto lumbered beside her, big fist clenched around the chain that circled her nose. A rider perched precariously on the mare's back, head and shoulders set with concentration, and he spotted one curving cheekbone, a strand of blond hair. Julie.

  He squeezed his eyes shut in dismay. This wasn’t good. He needed both Otto and Julie at the track. Needed them both healthy and accessible, not out of reach in some damn hospital.

  Sandra detached herself from the melee and trotted her gelding toward Kurt, stopping a cautious distance from Lazer. She jerked a thumb over her shoulder, her face sparkling with anticipation. “Rodeo time. Come watch. Otto's gallops are always the highlight of our day.”

  Kurt’s gaze swung back to the tiny rider perched on the furious horse. “Why the hell does she risk her neck like that?”

  Sandra shrugged. “She has to prove herself. It’s the fastest way.” She wheeled Okie but called over her shoulder. “It’s okay. She doesn’t usually come off.”

  Doesn't usually come off. The words nipped at Kurt as he hurried Lazer back to his stall. It was dangerous enough to gallop sane horses. Otto’s mare didn’t seem to belong in that category. Besides, he needed Julie, at least until he found out what she knew about Connor. He blew out a sigh and joined the people rubber-necking by the rail.

  Julie, still in the saddle, seemed unfazed by the mare’s contortions. It was hard for the horse to drop her head and buck while Otto manhandled her, but Julie would be alone on the track. Otto hadn’t even hired a stable pony. He should have stayed on Cisco, Kurt thought grimly. He would have been willing to pony the mare.

  Otto reached the gap, whipped off the chain and leaped back. The mare wheeled, lashing out with murderous hooves that sliced the air only inches from his head. Free from his stranglehold, she dropped her head and ripped out a series of jolting bucks.

  Kurt squeezed the rail in a sympathy grip, watching Julie lean back, brace her feet and pull the horse in a circle. She’d lengthened her stirrups since riding Lazer. Now she looked like a bronc rider. A damn good one.

  The mare hesitated. Julie picked up the opposite rein, calmly asking her to turn, and amazingly enough the mare listened. The pair trotted off along the outside rail, the horse suddenly a picture of obedience. The onlookers drifted away amid a chorus of jeers and cheers. It seemed the show was over.

  Kurt’s grip on the rail loosened but he lingered, puzzled by the change in the horse's attitude. Now she acted like any other animal on the track although, as Julie had said, she wasn’t quite sound. She stepped evenly in the front but there was a slight hitch in the back. Not a hip problem—it appeared lower, and she didn’t track up with either hind leg.

  He glanced at Otto, only fifteen feet away, holding the lead shank and hunched over the rail. Sweat drenched the man's t-shirt, and dark stains looped beneath his armpits. It was hard work leading an animal who didn't want to cooperate.

  “Do you have more than one horse, Otto?” Kurt struggled for a friendly tone.

  Otto grunted.

  “Pardon,” Kurt said, hoping the man only had one horse. No rider should have to tolerate dangerous behavior like the mare's. Julie galloped for Kurt too, so of course he had an interest in her well being. Only natural.

  But Otto ignored him, and Kurt’s jaw tightened in frustration. At this rate, they wouldn’t be on speaking terms for another two months. They didn’t have time for this shit. The case was turning cold.

  “I just wondered if you have another horse.” Impatience edged Kurt’s voice but Otto only grunted again, and the sound blasted Kurt out of his civility zone. “One grunt yes, two grunts no?” he asked.

  “Fuck off,” Otto said.

  Ah, finally. As usual, poking stirred a reaction and that seemed the best way to pull any response from Otto. Kurt had never liked placatory pretending anyway. He preferred to whip up emotions, any emotions, so long as they weren’t his own. Connor was the pacifist. One of the reasons why they worked well together.

  Had worked well together.

  He braced against the rail, staggered by an abrupt sense of loss, then dug his heels in the dirt and wheeled back toward Otto. “Sure hope you have some other runners. Looks like your mare only has two wheels.” Remembering Otto’s reaction to Julie’s vet suggestion, he added, “Maybe I should call the doc over? Get your mare some attention?”

  Otto’s face mottled and a thick vein bulged in his neck. “Mind your own damn business, Mr. Hotshot. No one touches my horses but me.”

  Kurt could no longer look at the man who was quite possibly Connor’s killer, and the angry throbbing in his head had to be controlled. Deep breaths, they’d taught him. But Otto was glowering, swinging the chain on the lead line in an obvious challenge, and the urge to get close and personal was almost overwhelming.

  Clenching his jaw, Kurt turned and walked away. It took a few moments to steady his breathing, to relax his fists, but all in all, it wasn’t a bad day.

  At least he’d learned one very important thing—Otto was even more protective of his horse than the trailer—which made Kurt very keen to examine the man’s volatile mare.

  Chapter Seven

  Back in the privacy of his motel room, Kurt entered his password and tapped some keys, waiting as the laptop downloaded a glut of information. Archer’s office had forwarded a summary of the cases Connor had been involved with, including call history and a timeline of his activities.

  Kurt scrolled down, choosing two pages for scrutiny—persons of interest in Connor O'Neil’s murder. The list was short, only two, and one he now considered as more of a witness.

  WEST, JULIE A.: Female Caucasian, Age 23, Green Eyes, Blond Hair, Weight 48.9 kg/108 lb, Height 1.5 meters/5 ft 2 in. Occupations: university student. Distinguishing Features: none. Prior Convictions: none.

  He skimmed her history. No siblings, mother deceased. Plain vanilla. He wished for more. Was rather curious about Julie. He’d request a more comprehensive report in the morning, more pictures too. This one was rather blurry. She wasn’t smiling and it didn’t do her justice, not one bit.

  He flipped the page over and turned his attention to Otto. Ah, now this page wasn’t as pretty, but it was definitely more interesting:

  LAING, OTTO P.: Male Caucasian, Age 36, Brown Eyes, Brown Hair, Weight 109.7 kg/242 lb, Height 1.8 meters/5 ft 11 in. Occupations: trucker, metalworker. Dual U.S./Canadian citizenship. Distinguishi
ng Features: scar on right shoulder. Prior Convictions: assault and battery. Prior Charges: robbery, drunk driving, resisting arrest, spousal abuse, rape. (See Report B0T-1826-1)

  Kurt reached into the bar fridge and pulled out a can of beer before tackling Report B0T-1826-1. He snapped open the can and turned to the glowing screen.

  Otto's adult record had begun in Montana. Convictions included drunk driving and assaulting a police officer. He’d spent time in jail for various misdemeanors, but a rape charge had been dismissed when the alleged victim disappeared.

  The man's history was extensive, although one omission was gaping. It didn't include drugs.

  Kurt tilted in the wooden chair, propping his feet on the bed as he tried to draw a link between Connor and Otto Laing. The room was an ideal thinking spot, silent except for the drone of the laptop and the occasional ticking of a pipe. However, he couldn’t find anything to connect the two men. Couldn’t imagine what Connor had seen on the highway.

  Dispatch records showed he’d stopped to help Laing with a flat tire. A racehorse had been reloaded; everything appeared routine. But something had trigged Connor’s suspicions, enough that he’d run the man’s license plates and followed him to the track. It had to be something noticeable, something other than Otto’s abrasive personality.

  The trailer had been unremarkable. Had to be the animal.

  There were no races tonight. In a few hours the backside would be empty, the perfect time to poke around the barn. Kurt tilted the beer can and took a speculative swig as he wondered what he’d find on Otto’s horse.

  “Good evening, sir,” the guard said. “You keep long hours.”

  The same young guard watched the horsemen’s gate, but now he was lonely and slightly more talkative. Short hair emphasized his skinny neck, and a lumpy Adam's apple rippled when he spoke.