Summer Kisses (122 page)

“Very nice,” Kurt said. “In fact, I worked out an order with him. And I’m happy, extremely happy, with what I found here.”

Sales must be slow, he thought, noting the relief that lightened her kind face. But considering the location, he wasn’t surprised. He felt a surge of pity for the struggling pair who clearly believed the shop had more conventional business goals.

“Let’s go out front, and we’ll calculate your deposit,” she said. “You really shouldn’t be back here. The owner likes everyone to follow the rules.”

Kurt followed her meekly. “Is the owner strict?”

She hesitated. “A little, but he gave us both jobs. Taught me to do the paperwork, even though I don’t have a bit of accounting training.”

Satisfaction edged from the corners of Kurt’s mouth, and he didn’t even try to stop his smile. This was all excellent information, and he wanted to pick up Betty and give her a big hug.

“I just wish we had a better location,” she went on. “We don’t have many browsers, and Mr. Friedman doesn’t want the store open on weekends. Now, I need your name and phone number.”

Kurt reached out and pumped her hand. “Betty, I’m in a hurry, but you’ve been a huge help.” He pulled out a hundred-dollar bill, considering it money well spent. “Here’s a deposit. Ted said he’d have the necklace ready by Friday. I’ll come back then.”

He strolled out beneath the sound of the tinkling bell, ignoring her sputters about receipts, records and strict store policies.

His diesel truck started with a triumphant roar. He drove east, heady with satisfaction. He used a few minutes to process the information, then hauled into the curb at a vacant meter and called Archer. Plenty to report today.

“I just left a jewelry store called ‘Pieces of Eight’,” he said. “I suspect the owner, Marcus Friedman, works with Otto fencing diamonds. They bring the stolen goods across the border with a horse. Or on a horse.” He frowned into the phone. “I haven’t figured that part out yet. But Friedman’s store is a front. He reworks the diamonds into cheap costume jewelry, and it enters Europe as zircons.”

Silence.

Seconds later, Archer’s breath came over the phone in a whoosh. “Any chance we can catch them with the stones?”

“Friedman probably flipped the last shipment in Antwerp,” Kurt said. “He’s winding down. House is on the market. Family moved out. But check the export records from Customs. The value and description will be for costume jewelry, but we can get an idea of the volume he’s running. Substitute diamonds for zircons, and we’re talking millions. Did you get the vet report?”

“All negative except for internal parasites and some anemia.” Archer snorted. “The vet said some of those tests you ordered seemed purely health-related. All you care about is animals, and now we own a goddamn horse.” But the satisfaction in his voice was obvious, even though he was two thousand miles away.

“What about the tail on Otto?” Kurt asked, making a mental note to ask Adam to include vitamins in the mare’s feed.

“Order’s in. And I’ll get surveillance on Friedman. We should have them tagged in a day or two once we free up some manpower.”

“Push it through,” Kurt said. “What about your earlier promise? Something about unlimited support?”

“You don’t need unlimited support,” Archer said. “As usual, you’re a one-man wrecking crew. This was fast, even for you.” His voice lowered. “Your cover’s okay though? You safe to wrap this thing up?”

“Yeah, but we need to play Otto tight. I overheard them talking about a last shipment. That’s why they didn’t want to lose the mare. They needed her for a final run.”

“Okay but check in every day. And go easy.”

“Always,” Kurt said, closing the phone on Archer’s sardonic chuckle.

He pulled his truck back into the inching traffic. A dented yellow taxi cut in front, but he slowed and gave the car some room. He was in no hurry. It had turned out to be a very good day. Not as enjoyable as yesterday, of course, but definitely a very good day.

The spring air was crisp, but the dawn held promise. The track would be good today. Kurt sauntered into the barn, nodded at a bleary-eyed groom and tossed his empty coffee cup into the garbage bin. It dropped to the center of the container with a satisfying clink. The perfect toss.

He strode down the aisle feeling all was well in his world.

“Morning, Kurt.” Sandra’s cheery greeting stopped him.

He backed up and glanced in her tack room. A box of doughnuts sat on the floor surrounded by crumbs, cups and a cluster of napkins.

A man in black jeans, the same man who had ogled Julie yesterday, lounged on Sandra’s cot. His arms bulged beneath the sleeves of his too-small shirt, and his hair was the same color as a sleek wharf rat.

Kurt almost didn’t see Julie. She was wedged beside the guy, laughing at something he said. Must have been a good joke, because she didn’t look up.

His mouth tightened; he pointedly checked his watch.

“We’ve already been out,” Sandra said, looking absurdly satisfied. “They’re harrowing anyway, so it’s our eight o’clock break. Cody here has been voted trainer of the week. He brought beer yesterday, coffee and doughnuts today.”

Cody gave Kurt an absent-minded nod and gestured at the doughnuts. “Dig in, dude. Plenty for everyone.”

“I hope you’ll make your weight, Julie,” Kurt said, confident his voice showed nothing but professional concern.

“I will.” She leaned over and studied the selection then extracted a sticky pastry, glossy with white icing.

“Julie doesn’t have to worry about weight. Just look at her,” Sandra said as she leaped forward to scuffle with Martin over the last chocolate doughnut.

Kurt was looking. He was looking as Julie took a big bite, was looking as her mouth opened and the tip of her pink tongue licked the corners of her mouth. Was looking as her bottom lip curled—

He glanced away, afraid Sandra might guess the nature of his thoughts. But she’d beaten Martin in the doughnut skirmish and seemed preoccupied with wiping the icing off her fingers.

“Ride my horse,” Cody was saying. “He’s had about sixty days’ training.”

Kurt waited until the man finished talking before cutting in. Julie could ride any horse she wanted but not on his time. He’d already booked her for Ace and Lazer—she was supposed to be with him, with his horses.

“I’d like you to ride my horses now, Julie,” he said. “After your doughnut and coffee, of course. Ace is entered for tomorrow.”

“Certainly. Just let me know when he’s ready.”

Kurt’s mouth compressed. He’d assumed she would watch while he saddled the horse, the way she always did. After another solitary evening, he’d been looking forward to some company. Yet if she preferred to eat doughnuts and giggle with Cody, the so-called trainer of the week, that was fine too.

Exactly what he wanted.

“Lazer will be ready in ten minutes,” he said. But he lingered in the doorway, reluctant to move. Cody had shifted on the cot. His leg pressed against Julie’s and she didn’t inch away, not like she did with Kurt.

“Let’s get them ready, Martin.” Kurt jerked away from the door.

Martin scrambled off the cot, snagging another doughnut on the way out. Kurt strode to Lazer’s stall, Martin by his side, contentedly munching.

“I’ve already brushed Lazer,” Martin said. “He only tried to kick me once.”

“You did a good job too,” Kurt said as he bridled the glistening colt. “I’ll take Cisco and Ace out after we finish with this guy. You’ve got chocolate on your chin.”

Martin ducked his head, wiped his face with his sleeve, then crammed the last piece of doughnut into his mouth. “The double chocolate ones are the best, but these are pretty good too,” he said, his words sounding smothered. He swallowed and looked gratefully at Kurt. “This has gotta be the best job in the world. Being around all the horses, all the nice people.”

“Yeah, it’s nice.” But Kurt’s fingers turned awkward as he struggled with the buckle on Lazer’s blinkers, and he didn’t want to look at Martin’s trusting, young face any longer. He turned Lazer and led him down the aisle, longing to return to his real racing business where there was no need to lie to good people.

He stopped Lazer outside Sandra’s tack room, outside the circle of carefree laughter and easy voices, and wished he could join in. Lazer pawed, and the impatient horse yanked him back to reality.

Dammit. He had a job to do. Hadn’t come to make friends. And Julie worked for him. He shouldn’t be doing this—delivering a horse to a rider simply because he felt a bit of guilt. In fact, he should fire her ass.

But he sighed and led Lazer even closer to the open door.

“Milady, your mount is ready,” he said, resisting the urge to drop a deep bow. “I assume you want to use your own saddle?”

“Definitely.” She rose, scooping up her weathered exercise saddle—the one she always insisted on using—from Sandra’s rack. “See you later. Thanks, Cody.”

They silently saddled Lazer. As Kurt bent to leg her up, a black blur streaked beneath his arm, dodging a path between the colt’s legs. Lazer leaped sideways. Clipped Julie’s shoulder. She stumbled, almost fell but he reached out and hauled her to his chest.

“Damn cat,” he muttered. “You okay?” He sucked in Julie’s smell, enjoying the feel of her in his arms.

She nodded and quickly stepped away, while Lazer yanked at the reins, snorting, and scanning the aisle for the terrifying cat. The colt suddenly looked too big, too rambunctious, too dangerous for an apprentice. But she’d already walked back to his side, and Kurt automatically legged her into the saddle.

She glanced down, her gaze steady while she awaited his instructions. “You sure you’re all right?” he asked, dragging his hand off her boot.

She nodded again and looked so disdainful he pushed away the unsettling notion that Lazer was too much horse.

“He bucks a bit when he’s feeling good.” Kurt’s voice was gruff as he led the prancing colt down the aisle. “Get him moving right away. Three laps, same as yesterday, but with a little more gas down the stretch.”

He wanted to warn her to keep Lazer’s head up, to be careful of the colt’s stunts, but the haughty tilt of her nose suggested surplus conversation wouldn’t be appreciated. He needed her to look at him though, to smile at him the way she had with Cody, and suddenly the reasons for distancing himself seemed unimportant.

Friedman was in their sights. Julie wasn’t a suspect and had no new information pertaining to the case. He wasn’t going to spill his guts like he had with Anne Marie—no chance of that—so there was no reason why he shouldn’t enjoy Julie’s company. No reason at all.

He just had a little backtracking to do. A big weight slid off his shoulders. “How’s my mare settling?” he asked.

“She’s fine.”

“Blue isn’t hassling her too much?”

“Of course not,” Julie said. “He never bothers the animals.”

“He looks like a dog who’d enjoy getting close to the stock,” Kurt said.

“Well, maybe he heels her a bit,” she admitted, with such an adorable flush it was hard to pull his gaze away. “But it’s all in play.”

“We need to have a chat, Julie.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “Blue won’t hurt her.”

“A chat about us,” he said.

Dismay swept her face. Obviously she didn’t want to dredge up Sunday’s events. Further words stuck in his throat; no doubt she’d written him off, just as he’d set her up to do. They reached the gap where he fiddled with the bridle, reluctant to let her go.

“Keep a tight hold,” he said, pretending to adjust a buckle. “He’s feeling good so I switched to a ring bit. And these blinkers are new. Probably why he reacted to the cat. He’s had an open cup before, and they didn’t help with his focus. But let me know what you think.”

Both she and Lazer looked impatient to get on the track, and there was simply nothing left to say. He released the colt and stepped back, joining another trainer watching from the rail.

“Your horse looks fit,” the man said. “Good-looking animal.”

Kurt pulled his gaze off Julie and turned to the man beside him.

“My name’s Red Jollymore. That’s my three-year-old coming now, Sweating Bullet.” The trainer beamed with pride as he pointed at a big bay. The horse was clearly eager to run, his head bent to his chest as he strained at the bit. “You entering the allowance race Friday night?” the man asked.

“That’s the plan.” Kurt stuck out his hand. “I’m Kurt MacKinnon.”

Jollymore pumped his hand, his mouth stretching in an eager smile that revealed a chipped front tooth. “Yeah, I know. Spent a month at Gulfstream. Saw your horses run there. We’re honored to have you in Alberta. You here for the Derby?”

Kurt stalled, pretending to check his watch. The Alberta Derby was a month away. No way would he be around for that. But the Derby was the only race that made sense. Jollymore knew the caliber of his horses and would question why he’d shipped all the way out for a lowly allowance race.

“That’s right. I’m here for the Derby,” Kurt said as Sweating Bullet charged down the stretch. “Your colt looks strong. I see we won’t steal any wins. Guess we’ll meet next month.”

Jollymore puffed out his chest at the praise. “We’ll meet before the Derby. I’m entering for Friday too. It’s a good prep. Bull hasn’t lost yet, and I’ve got Bixton riding. Who you putting up on your colt?”

“Julie.”

“Julie? The West girl? Isn’t that a big race for an apprentice?”

“She can handle it,” Kurt said. “She’s a quiet rider, a thinking rider. And the horses respond to her.”

“No shit. Guess any red-blooded male would respond to that.”

Kurt stared coldly at Jollymore. The man sobered and looked away, his chuckle fading to an embarrassed cough.

“Looks aside, she’s plucky and a hard worker,” Kurt said, easing up on the man. “None of the regular jockeys are out here galloping. And I like a rider to work with my horse going into a race.”

“Guess you’re right.” Jollymore’s forehead crinkled in thought. “Maybe I should give her a chance. Be nice to get the weight allowance.”

“Well, I’d be using her even if she weren’t an apprentice. She’s got talent.”