Courting Disaster. Kathleen O'Reilly

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СКАЧАТЬ if the devil was giving chase. Faster and faster they went, hooves thundering against the soft ground. Demetri had bought this horse for her spirit and her strength, knowing that someday he was going to need it. Sadly, he’d thought it would be for a race, not to exorcise old demons. The bay didn’t disappoint.

      The paddock fence was approaching, and the filly took it, not once shying away. The powerful hindquarters gathered up beneath Demetri, and he leaned forward until they were sailing through the air, flying without wings.

      Demetri’s blood pumped, the rush of adrenaline drowning out everything else inside him. In the distance, he could hear Marcus shout, but it would take more than a shout to stop Demetri at the moment, not when all things, including blessed absolution, seemed possible. The wind whipped against his face, nearly blinding him.

      One thing he’d say for the bay, not only was she pretty, but she was fast. Over the pasture they went, farther and farther away from the exercise yard, the filly’s legs pounding with powerful strength. Demetri’s heart stretched tight in his chest, a ticking bomb waiting to explode. The rush of adrenaline did its job, and for a moment, he could stay lost. Unfortunately, the moment was always gone too soon.

      Not surprisingly, the horse couldn’t keep up the pace, her speed slowing, the clip easing into a gentle canter. Nothing ever lasted. Demetri abandoned the useless quest, and wheeled the horse back toward the ring.

      “What the hell was that about?” Marcus asked as Demetri brought Courting Disaster back through the opened gate.

      “My property,” answered Demetri, slipping off the heaving flanks. The horse was winded and exhausted, but the contempt still flared in her eyes.

      The anger in Marcus’s face wasn’t much better. “Find another trainer.”

      Feeling the well-deserved condemnation in the trainer’s gaze, Demetri felt something else as well, which years ago he would have thought was a conscience. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take it out on the horse.”

      “Don’t do it again, Demetri. She’s not a car.”

      Demetri patted the bay, a stupid, futile gesture, and handed her off to Marcus, who took a towel and rubbed the sweat from her flanks.

      Demetri watched, the headache back, worse than ever. “It won’t happen again.”

      Marcus looked up from the horse, seeming to understand. “Thank you for that.”

      “I was…” started Demetri, then shrugged. “You know, never mind. I’ve been watching you work with the horses. You’re good.”

      “I’ve been watching you race. You’re nuts.”

      Demetri laughed. “So they say. You should come to the race on Sunday. I can get you tickets.”

      “I’ll stick to the horses, but thank you.”

      “If you need anything…” offered Demetri, his hand outstretched.

      Marcus shook it. “Thanks.”

      Demetri started back toward the driveway, but then stopped. No. He had other things to do here, as well, things more important than his family issues. He looked back at Marcus. “Is Hugh around?”

      Marcus jerked his thumb toward the offices behind them. Demetri took off, leaving Marcus and Demetri’s own stupidity behind him. A three-story brick building sat between the stables and the main house, overlooking the exercise yard. Demetri found Hugh at the viewing window, watching two horses on the practice track. The old man never used a stopwatch for his horses; he had an innate knowledge for how fast they ran. Hugh was never wrong.

      “Is that the new colt?”

      Hugh nodded once, his eyes never leaving the glass. “Yeah. Something to Talk About. He’s fast. Faster than his daddy.”

      For a few minutes they watched in silence, and Hugh was right. The colt was fast, blazingly fast, leaving the bigger gelding several furlongs behind. When the jockey pulled him up, the colt wasn’t even winded. It was a crime that as a Quest horse, he couldn’t race because of the ban.

      “How’re you doing? Glad to have the wedding behind you?” Demetri added a note of buoyant high spirits to his voice. It wasn’t perfect, but he wasn’t feeling particularly chipper, anyway.

      Hugh pushed back from the polished brass railing and looked at Demetri with a note of buoyant high spirits in his eyes. It looked fake, too. “The wedding was beautiful. Got another one in a month,” he answered. “Shane and Audrey. This one won’t be nearly as big. Must be something in the water.”

      “As long as they keep it away from me.”

      “I saw you dancing with Elizabeth at the party.”

      “I didn’t go near her at the wedding.”

      “Because you weren’t there…” Hugh said neatly.

      “You asked me to stay away. I did.”

      “Thank you,” replied Hugh, and Demetri wisely avoided telling him that Elizabeth would be singing at the race. Hugh would figure that one out soon enough.

      “What’s the latest on the investigation?” asked Demetri, quickly changing the subject.

      Hugh locked his hands behind him. “Brent’s working with the Jockey Association to track down a missing computer analyst from there. Hopefully he can tell us why Leopold’s Legacy’s sire was listed as ‘unknown’ in the backup data. But we don’t even know if he’s in the country or not.”

      “The analyst lives in Lexington?”

      Outside, the jockey was leading the two horses off the track, and when they had disappeared from view, Hugh abandoned his horses again. He ambled over to the conference table and chairs that were situated in the middle of the room, and tiredly settled into one of them. Demetri joined him there, not knowing what else to do.

      “He was supposed to be living in Lexington. Brent’s been looking into his finances because his apartment has been cleared out. This fellow recently acquired himself a pretty house in Savannah. Eight thousand square feet with a five-car garage.”

      Demetri arched a brow in surprise. “On a computer tech’s salary?”

      Hugh frowned. “I’m not thinking he’s from a wealthy family, Demetri. The whole thing smells.”

      “Does Brent have any more leads?” Surely there was something to follow up on.

      “Not yet,” answered Hugh, the eternal optimist. But there was a time for blind optimism, and there was a time to face reality.

      Demetri was tired of sitting still. He jerked out of his chair, needing to move. Something. Anything. “The stables are running out of time.”

      “Do you think I don’t know it? Thomas looked beat this morning. I want to help, but there’s nothing.”

      “But you bet for the funds for the wedding?”

      Old gray brows settled into a solid line over the man’s eyes. “How’d you hear that?”

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