High-Stakes Colton

She certainly didn’t need to worry about Lotus misbehaving. The one she needed to worry about was herself. In any near vicinity, Jake was potent enough. Up close in any personal proximity, he was downright intoxicating. He was intensity, charm, humor with the kind of focus that made her want to smooth her hair back and moisten her lips. Hell, if she was honest he made her want to do a whole lot more than that. There had been moments where she could have sworn he was thinking the same thing. Thank God there had been plenty of interruptions.

Even if Jake wasn’t the enemy she feared—and she wasn’t certain about that yet—he wasn’t an ally, either. Of any sort. Couldn’t be, not in her current circumstances. She just hadn’t counted on that bothering her so much.

She closed the stall door as soon as the horse was out, then walked on ahead of them, toward the crossover to the other aisle.

“What if she doesn’t go?”

She turned and smiled when she found him still standing just outside the stall. “No worries, Clay. She’s quite the lady and will be fine. You did say you wanted to learn to ride.”

He nodded, his whiskey-brown eyes still wary of the mare which wasn’t a bad thing. A healthy respect for animals that weighed tons of pounds and could with a flick of their head or a movement of their body do some serious damage. He was a handsome kid, one who had that bad boy vibe going and the chip on his shoulder, using a disarming grin to get by. He’d gotten into some trouble with the law over shoplifting, but it was because he was living on the street.

It was satisfying work—more than satisfying, she thought, as she replayed some of the kids’ reactions today as they spent time around these magnificent beasts.

In the few months since she’d worked to get the program going, it had never ceased to move her, the way the animals brought out so much in jaded teens who were otherwise so closed off, mostly due to forces beyond their control and largely terrible situations and circumstances. She wasn’t sure if she could save any of these kids, the system was a tough place to be, but she hoped she could give them some values and responsibility, show them what it was to work hard for a good cause. Give them a purpose for now and maybe...just maybe they would find something they could use for their continuing journey into adulthood.

She wanted to enrich their lives, giving them windows of opportunity to express and enjoy themselves in ways that conventional therapy methods could not. Oftentimes, the look on a teen’s face made it clear how vitally important their being here really was.

It was invigorating, but also exhausting. A whole lot of emotions were being expended into the air of Colton Valley Ranch Stables every single day, and it did zap a person, even if it was for the very best of reasons. Today had been one of those days. She’d debated even working with Clay, not wanting to risk him or Lotus picking up on her less-than-sharp reflexes, or worse, her tension. Tension that really had nothing to do with the day she’d put in, and everything to do with the man who had invaded her world. But the day she’d put in made hiding those feelings a little tougher. And she needed all the stamina she could muster to make it through this lesson.

She heard some stamping down the aisle and saw it was Mimosa getting shoed. Ah, bad timing. That horse was ornery on her best days and nasty on her worst. She didn’t recognize the farrier with a stable hand. He must be new here.

Torn between teaching Clay and calling their lesson quits to deal with the unruly mare, she was just about to get Lotus back into her stall and postpone the lesson when Jake appeared. That man seemed to know exactly when a horse needed to be gentled or soothed. And, just like before, Mimosa calmed as if by...magic.

All up and down the row of stalls, equine heads popped out. Lotus turned and with a soft nicker greeted Jake as if he was one of their own. It was eerie and uncanny. He stood framed in the light, his gray broad-brimmed Stetson casting his face in shadows, his plaid shirt open at the neck, tucked into a pair of worn jeans as he stood with his thumb hooked in the front pocket. The hair on the back of her neck rose and she found that she was holding her breath.

Oh, for the love of God, she wasn’t going to buy in to it, but she was beginning to suspect Jake had some skill which only made her want to run in the other direction.

Then Jake looked up and Mimosa sidled, the look on his face was thunderstruck, pain rolling across his features like a tidal wave. She followed his line of vision right to Clay.

Clay, standing in profile while his attention was on the horse, sensed something, too, as he looked over his shoulder at Jake. Clay’s head whipped back around and he took a quick breath and it looked for a moment like fear in his eyes as if he saw the long arm of the law reaching for him.

Her attention went back to Jake, sensing his sudden withdrawal, as if walls had suddenly gone up, Mimosa settled once again.

With Jake’s expression fixed and shuttered, there was a grimness around Jake’s mouth that made her stomach drop.

Their eyes held, her stomach twisting, feeling as though she had witnessed something, very personal, and so painful.

The farrier finished and Mimosa was led away. Jake settled the gray Stetson onto his head like he was going into battle, and headed toward her and Clay.

She couldn’t help but wonder what had put that look of bitterness in his eyes.

Chapter 4 (#ulink_ac8544bc-88ec-56d7-8b79-58b6ea44effa)

Jake was still reeling from his first glimpse of one of Alanna’s teens. It was as if he’d seen a ghost. He resembled Matt so closely that in the dim light of the barn, he thought for a minute it was him. But of course, reality sunk in. Matt was dead. Jake had failed him.

The emotions about his brother’s death had been contained, but were still volatile and he reined in his guilt and shame at being unable to help Matt when he really needed Jake the most.

As Jake approached, the look in Alanna’s eyes compelled him to put up a wall. He couldn’t give in to the pain that still lurked and hit him when he least expected it. The sound of a laugh, the whiff of peppermint or the strum of a guitar. Matt’s presence was gone, but the memories of him lingered like long-lost ghosts.

He shook off the effects of his lapse in control, which got easier as he neared Alanna and the kid.

Clay looked at him like he was a cop and Jake relaxed into projecting calm, just as he had with the pretty sorrel mare. Jake recognized the wide eyes, the nervous disposition. Street kids had a sixth sense when it came to the law. He recognized all the signs he’d seen in his kid brother. But Matt was gone and he had a job to do.

“Good afternoon,” Alanna said, and there was something about her voice that tangled him up every time. “This is Clay Ford. Clay, this is Jake McCord.”

Jake stretched out his hand and noticed how Clay’s curiosity replaced his fear. “You’re the guy who’s supposed to train that crazy black horse.”

“One and the same. Are you the guy who’s going to get some lessons from Alanna?”

“Yeah, what of it?”

“Nothing. Just being nosy.”

That look came over the kid’s face again.

Jake turned to find a man walking toward him from the opposite end of the stable. He had a halter and lead rope in each hand and dragged his right foot, just a tad. A memory niggled at him and he studied the man harder. A jolt shocked through him. It was the slight drag that tipped him off. This guy reminded him of the man who had killed Tim Preston. Jake was sure of it. It had been dark and he hadn’t gotten a really good look at his face, but that slight drag. He chased the guy but couldn’t get a hand on him. He’d disappeared, but that limp stuck in his mind. He’d scoured the area for the perp afterward and looked at every mug-shot book available, but was never able to identify the drug dealer. He would remember his voice for sure. He’d heard it through Tim’s mic.

The man came alongside them and Jake watched him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Clay stiffen and look down. Jake heard the gunshot again in his mind, the sound deafening in the quiet night. The anguished sound Tim made as he was hit, then the thud of his body as he’d fallen to the concrete. The sound of running footsteps. Then Tim’s labored breaths. He’d whispered through the pain, “Tell Jen I love her.” Then one long breath as he’d died.

The horse, Thundersparks, made a soft whickering sound, bringing Jake out of his thoughts. He’d endured a lot within the last few years, losing his brother and then the rookie. This job was bringing up a lot of baggage.

Henry drew closer and she dropped her head to snuffle around at his hands.

“Treats after you work a bit, my pretty,” he said. Jake thought Henry’s voice, the deep nasal quality of it, seemed familiar. Could he be the guy who had killed Tim? Jake would have to keep his eye on him. He was undercover and he didn’t want to blow it, and second, he at this point had no proof.

He would bide his time and watch this lowlife like a hawk. The man opened the stall door and clipped one of the lead lines to the halter, led the horse out and cross-tied her close to the open door to the paddock.

He moved to another stall door and haltered the horse inside. As he led the horse out, his gaze connected with Jake’s and in addition to a flash of something in his eyes before he masked it, there was something dark, something evil and it stirred Jake’s protective instincts like nothing else he’d ever known. Rage rose up like a beast inside him, wild, rabid, unchained. He fought it with everything he had, managing to wrestle that monster down and remain calm. He nodded once in greeting.

As the man passed with the big buckskin gelding, Alanna said, “Henry, could you work Damsel, too? She’s due to be bred and it’ll be good for her to get a bit more exercise.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Henry said.

“Jake, this is Henry Swango. This is Jake McCord. He’s training Zorro.”

“Better you than me, mister. That’s one crazy horse.”

Jake forced himself to take the hand Henry offered, but made the handshake brief.

Tamara came into the barn. “Alanna, could I have a few minutes?”

“Clay, maybe we better save this lesson until later.”

“Sure,” he said, but Jake could tell the teenager was disappointed.

“I could do it,” Jake said before he thought better of it. It was uncanny how much Clay reminded him of Matt. That might have been what was motivating him, but he hated to see the kid not get on a horse. There was nothing like riding.

Alanna said, “Are you sure, Jake? You weren’t hired to give riding lessons. If my brother...”