Free Prima Donna by Karen Swan Page B

last loo break.
    Tanner checked his watch: 11.42 p.m. In four and a half hours, the first convoy of three lorries of ponies would be making its way back to Dorset. The second team would be coming on tomorrow,
after the final. He despised the early start but it was the only way to do it if they were going to get through the Vereina tunnel and past Zurich before rush hour.
    He yawned, exhausted, shrugging off his arctic expedition-style jacket. He’d be glad when this was over. He hated doing such long journeys with the horses; the prospect of one of them
falling lame was a real possibility. Not that Silk cared a damn about the horses’ welfare, so long as they won him his trophy and his financial largesse – sorry, sporting prowess
– was admired by a crowd of thousands.
    Still, it was done now.
    A sudden noise – a shuffle – above him stopped him in his tracks and he felt his pulse quicken. He looked at the ponies, who seemed wholly unconcerned by the prospect of an intruder.
Aside from the considerable worth of the horses themselves, the kit in the truck was worth tens of thousands. And with the final being held tomorrow, and Black Harbour going in as the favourites,
doping was a real threat too.
    He grabbed a whip that was propped against the wall and tiptoed across to the fitted ladder that led up to his bunk. He climbed it silently, the whip dangling – at the ready – in his
hand.
    He knew he was at a disadvantage. Apart from the fact that he was holding the ladder with just one hand, the intruder would have seen him come into the truck. The element of surprise was gone.
There was only one thing for it.
    ‘HA!’ he cried, warrior-like, springing himself up and over the parapet, so that his head banged hard on the roof. ‘Aargh!’ he cried, less impressively, unable to rub
it.
    He dropped the whip in surprise. It had been the last thing he was expecting to see – a mass of bronze curls tumbling over the side of his pillow, long milky limbs entwined with a hard,
dusty, mocha-coloured body that didn’t even break rhythm.
    Tanner’s shoulders and heart rate dropped as he took in the all-too-familiar scene. ‘Still riding, Alonso?’ he said, deadpan. ‘I thought that was all done for
today.’
    ‘Not for me,
amigo
,’ smiled the player, completely unfazed. His nine-goal handicap made him a celebrity back home and the prize asset for any polo patron. He could name his
terms and set his own price – and if he wanted to have sex with a pretty girl in the horsebox, absolutely no one was going to try to stop him.
    Tanner sighed and climbed back down again. There went any chance of sleep. It wasn’t even like he could kip on the floor. It was bad enough the horses having to listen to every last thump
and groan. He pulled his jacket back on again and stepped out of the lorry. He may as well get a drink.
    In spite of the fact that she was the most tantalizing woman there and was being fawned over by an American thrash rock star – usually just her type – Pia was not
having the time of her life. Sophie’s early departure had left her stranded with basically a bunch of strangers, and her lusty Argentinian prospect was nowhere in sight. To make things even
worse, Will Silk was standing at the opposite end of the room, surrounded by a pack of fine young fillies who were doing all they could to become his number one pick, and he hadn’t looked
over at Pia once. She wasn’t sure he had even seen her.
    From under the singer’s fedora – which she had coquettishly pinched and alluringly perched on her head, dismantling the gown’s formality even further – she watched him as
he regaled them all, brandy in hand, with some hilarious story that set their bosoms quivering and exposed their long, smooth necks. Something about him made him look different to the other times
she had met him. She squinted intently. It was because he looked undone, less manicured. She liked her men rough and ready but