Summer Kisses (126 page)

Kurt shot the speaker a scowl. “That’s not necessary. Step back from the rope. Give him more room.”

The men shuffled away from the makeshift chute.

Kurt grabbed a whip and entered the adjoining stall, ignoring the occupant, a chestnut gelding who snorted with suspicion. He pulled himself up the side of the wall, thrust the whip past the clump of ceiling cobwebs and through the tiny gap between the ceiling and top board. Poked Otto’s horse on the rump. The animal flinched, dropped halfway to the ground, then whirled and leaped over Nick’s body before bolting across the aisle to the open stall.

An alert officer slammed the door shut.

By the time Kurt stepped back into the aisle, two ambulance attendants had rushed into the vacated stall and were crouched over Nick.

“Okay. Now we can look after this situation. Your name, sir?” The officer with the coiled notebook planted himself in front of Kurt.

Kurt propped the whip against the wall and answered the man in monosyllables, his mind churning with his own questions. Why had Nick been in that stall? He was an experienced horseman and would never corner a frightened animal. He didn’t even shoe for Otto.

Suspicions swept him, and a muscle ticked spasmodically in his jaw. Had Nick been curious about the shoes on Otto’s horses? Too curious maybe? Maybe he’d encountered Otto.

A shovel could have caused that type of head injury. Enclose a panicky horse with a prone body, and the rest was predictable. The border check. Surveillance. What the hell had gone wrong?

“Mr. MacKinnon? Please answer the question.”

The officer’s irritated voice yanked Kurt back. He nodded. “Yes,” he said quietly, “the horse probably belongs to Otto. That’s his usual stall, the one with the boards.”

“All right. Thanks for your help. We may want to talk to you again.” The man’s voice carried a silky threat, and he made Kurt repeat the name of his motel.

“Aren’t you going to check the stall?” Kurt asked.

“What for?”

“For whatever killed Nick.”

The officer slapped his notebook shut. “Look. Even an idiot can see the horse killed him.” His flat stare locked with Kurt’s. “And I don’t consider myself an idiot.”

“Maybe you should.”

The officer’s mouth tightened, and Kurt bit back the rest of his suggestion. It was always useless to get into a pissing contest with the local law. The RCMP and city police were working jointly on Connor’s murder, although city police hadn’t been advised of Kurt’s presence.

Still, Nick’s battered body affected him, and he’d seen plenty of bodies before. His thoughts jumped to Julie and Martin. No wonder they’d been reeling.

He rushed outside. A car edged from the parking lot—one driver, with Julie and Martin hunched in the rear seat.

He jogged alongside the car, rapping his knuckles on the hood. The car stopped; the driver’s window lowered.

“Where are you taking them?” Kurt asked.

“I’m driving Martin home. His mother is there. There’s no answer at Julie’s house, so we’re moving her to the hospital for observation.”

“No need. I’ll look after her.”

The officer’s voice rose. “Now look here.”

“I’ll look after her,” Kurt repeated.

The man’s mouth thinned with displeasure, but he turned toward the back seat. “Where do you want to go, miss?”

Julie’s gaze skittered over the attendants as they removed a white-mounded stretcher. “With Kurt, please.” Her voice was faint and reedy.

Kurt helped her from the car and into his truck. Started the engine, blasted on the heat, and thumbed the tear tracks from her cheeks. “Do you know if Martin fed the horses?” he asked gently.

She remained blank-faced for long seconds but finally nodded. “At first we didn’t notice anything,” she whispered. “There was a bad smell and the horses were restless, but we were laughing…we didn’t know…we were laughing.” She groaned and swung to the window.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back.” He grabbed his cell phone, punching in Archer’s number as he loped to the barn. Wasted no time with civilities. “Goddammit, Archer. A farrier was found dead in Otto’s stall this morning. City’s been here and removed the body. They’re calling it an accident. It’s not.”

“Jesus.”

“What happened at the border?” Kurt struggled to keep his voice low. “I thought Otto would be searched up his ass.”

“Don’t know.” Archer’s voice was unusually subdued. “But I’ll find out.”

“A bit late now.” Kurt ground his heel in the dirt as he turned and checked his truck. Julie was sitting exactly as he’d left her. “Better get some plainclothes guys out here with video and camera,” he said. “There’s blood. Maybe not all Nick’s. And lift fingerprints off the stall door. I’ll watch it here until they show.”

He snapped the phone shut and rejoined Julie. Fiddled with the heater, the blanket, the radio. She seemed oblivious to his stalling.

Ten minutes later an unmarked Crown Vic swooped in front of the barn. Kurt signaled he would return and drove from the lot to his motel.

He opened the truck door and guided her into his room. “Still cold?” he asked.

She sat on the edge of the bed, pale, silent, unspeaking. Only her fingers moved, twisting and pulling at the edge of the blanket.

Kurt joined her on the sagging bed, just wishing she’d let it out. “Does Nick have a family?” he asked.

She nodded and sucked at her lip, eyelids blinking furiously.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, hating his helplessness. He stroked her cheek; the gesture seemed to penetrate her shell. A tear welled in the corner of her right eye. She looked at him then. Her face crumpled, and she buried her head in his chest.

He didn’t know how long she cried. Didn’t care. But by the time her shaking subsided and her sobs dwindled to weak hiccups, his shirt was damp.

“I didn’t think a horse would ever do that.” She rubbed at her pale cheeks. “Especially to someone like Nick. He was so good with them. Loved them all. Nick was supposed to shoe our horse last night.” Her voice strengthened, turning thoughtful. “Strange he was in Otto’s stall. Maybe the horse was cast, and he was trying to help him up.”

“Maybe,” Kurt said. Skepticism roughened the word, but he kept his hands gentle as he stroked her back.

Her eyes narrowed. “The last time Otto hauled a horse in, someone else died. So weird. Someone should ask him—”

He planted a kiss on the top of her hair, hoping to distract her. “Give it time,” he murmured. But she felt so good in his arms, he lingered. Couldn’t resist dragging his mouth along her jaw and nuzzling her neck.

A second later she stiffened and jerked away. Stared at him, then at the bed and her thoughtful expression turned to disgust. “My God. You’ll use any situation to take advantage of the ladies.”

“No ladies here,” he said jokingly, deciding any topic that took her mind off Nick and Otto was probably a good one.

But she winced, clearly insulted.

He mentally groaned at his poor choice of words. “I didn’t mean it that way,” he said quickly.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m obviously not a lady. You only needed one trail ride.” Her voice cracked, but she gave a dismissive shrug. “Everyone needs a little fun. However, the next time I have sex, I’ll do the choosing.”

“But you did choose the last time. You said ‘yes’, very clearly.” He stretched back on the bed, pretending her words didn’t hurt, but his face felt like it was carved in granite.

She jerked up and jammed her hands on her hips. “That kind of yes doesn’t count. We just ran into a mother grizzly. What happened afterwards was basic relief.”

“Ah, so those little noises you made were sighs of relief?” He watched as color flagged her cheeks; she wasn’t a bit pale now.

“You’re an unprincipled asshole who’d nail anything that moves.”

“Not lately,” he said.

“I’m leaving.”

He propped a pillow behind his head, watching through narrowed lids. Thought she was moving stiffly but wasn’t quite sure. “Walk out now and you’re not riding my horse tonight,” he said.

She’d already reached the door, but her hand dropped from the knob and she wheeled to face him. “Even you wouldn’t do that.”

“Sure I would.” But he couldn’t hold her gaze. “Sex is pretty important to unprincipled assholes like me,” he added.

She flushed with temper. Her cheeks were still stained with tears, but the signs of shock had vanished. A little more color, and she’d look completely normal.

“Just one kiss and you can ride Ace,” he said.

She shook her head in disbelief.

“A little more and you can ride Lazer,” he added, reassured by her reaction. If she really thought he was a complete asshole, she wouldn’t look so shocked by his ridiculous proposal. His face didn’t feel so tight now; in fact, the side of his lip even started to twitch.

She stared intently, probably guessed he was joking. However, she continued to look beautifully indignant, and anger was preferable to her helpless sadness that tore at his gut.

“A little more and I can ride Lazer?” She crossed her arms. “What do you mean? How much is a little more?”

“I don’t know. Whatever you feel like. Gotta hurry though.” The sides of his lips quivered, and he knew his stone face was cracking. He was just so damn relieved she was back to normal. Fresh, feisty and refreshingly honest.

“Just a minute,” she said. She swept into the bathroom and closed the door. The tap gurgled. Something clinked. Maybe she was brushing her teeth, always a good sign. The door inched open. “You have to close your eyes,” she said.

He obligingly closed them, listening to her steps as she approached the bed. “It has to be a good kiss, sweetheart.” He’d only been joking, but he wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass. She had him balled in knots, and a kiss from her might keep him going for a week.

“Don’t worry. It’ll be good.” Her sultry voice purred above him. “And wet.”

Splash!
A wall of cold water slammed like a gut punch, soaking his face, his shirt, the bed.

“Shit!” He scrambled up, splattering water like a dog, rivulets streaming down his face.

“You don’t look so smug now…sweetheart.” She turned, carried the ice bucket back into the bathroom then tossed him a towel.

He snagged it with one hand and blotted his face, absorbing the water, his disappointment, his shock. “You’re full of surprises,” he said. “How did you know I wasn’t serious?”

She gave a smug smile. “That definitely isn’t the way successful trainers pick their jockeys.”

“Depends how badly we want them.” He lunged. One squeal and he had her flat on her back, pinned to the bed. She stared, eyes incredulous, then started thrashing. “Hold still, or you’ll hurt yourself,” he said. “I want that shirt off. Now.”

Her eyes glittered with fury as he unbuttoned her shirt. He shoved it open and softly whistled.

“Ah hell, Julie.” Compassion roughened his voice when he saw why she’d flinched when he’d helped her step down from the truck. Why she’d been walking stiffly. Ugly bruises snaked from the top of her ribs to below the waistband of her jeans.

She understood now and lay still, staring up at him, vulnerable and exposed. “I’m okay to ride though. I’m really okay.”

He rose and stepped back, shaking his head at the blotchy smear of color. Hated what he had to do. “No, you’re not okay. Not combined with what happened this morning. I’m sorry.”

“It won’t affect my riding.”

He reached down and probed her hip. She flinched.

He sighed and lowered himself on the bed. “I can’t let you ride the two-year-old. You’re in no shape for acrobatics. It could be a wild race tonight with all the first-time starters.”

“Please, Kurt. Please let me ride.” She tugged at his arm. She rarely touched him but did now, looking at him with her heart in her eyes. Her heart for his horse.

“No!” He set his shoulders, steeling himself against her plea. There was no way he could let her ride. “Absolutely not.”

“Please. It’s important to me.”

He turned his head and rose, didn’t want to see her disappointment. Rifled through a drawer, cursing as he fumbled for a dry shirt. Glanced over his shoulder. She slumped on the bed, looking so shattered his chest constricted.

“Goddammit, Julie,” He slammed the drawer shut. “Ride him if it’s so important. But you might screw yourself up for Lazer. And that’s a bigger race.”

Her wobbly smile made his heart kick.

“Thank you so much,” she said. “I’ll take good care of Ace. I promise.”

“It’s not the horse I’m worried about.” He yanked off his clammy shirt, pulled on a dry one and stalked toward the door. Couldn’t believe he was going to let her ride. But she’d looked so damn devastated, and it hurt to see her sad. ‘I’ll drop you off at Sandra’s.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “Make sure she stays with you for a few hours. Ice your chest. Have a warm bath. Take care of yourself.”

She just stared at him, unmoving, her beautiful face luminous with gratitude, and the last thing he wanted to do was return to a crime scene. “Come on,” he said. “I’ve got stuff to do. And button up that shirt, you…hussy.”

That made her react. She bounced off the bed, still with the radiant smile, and punched him in the shoulder then wrapped her arms around him in a grateful but far-too-brief hug.

By the time Kurt drove Julie to Sandra’s and returned to the barn, it was midmorning. A white panel van was backed against the door behind the barrier of yellow tape. Solemn onlookers kept a respectful distance.

The man Kurt had seen in the unmarked Ford waved him into the barn.

“I’m Sergeant Hans Leaman.” He passed Kurt a pair of latex gloves and shoe covers. “Assume you’re MacKinnon?” At Kurt’s nod, he added, “We were told to work with you but to be discreet. We have a forensic team here. They lifted prints off the dead man’s tools and the door and stripped the stall for lab analysis. We’ve got pictures and video. Only thing left is to check the animal.”

“Find anything?”

“Just some nails and a lot of blood. Nails are bagged over there.”

Kurt picked up the bag, examining its contents through the plastic. All were old horseshoe nails with the heads cut off. “The horse was moved across the aisle,” he said, dropping the bag back into the evidence bin. “Guess you’ve seen him?”