Free Microsoft Word - DeadHeat_wrp356.doc by Owner

opening in his barn?
    Rye came across the room toward her. “Coffee
    ready?”
    She backed away. “Help yourself.”
    Hills lumbered into the room. “I've been dismissed for
    now, so I'll be seeing you around.”
    Jenna remembered the call she'd received. “After the
    explosion, my cell rang. The same distorted voice that
    called the apartment told me, 'Last warning. Next time
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    Pam Champagne

    you die.' Can you track the call? I dropped my cell
    outside.”
    Hills smiled without humor, his eyes cold. “Tell the
    FBI. They're handling the investigation now.”
    Brett spoke from the doorway. “I'll walk you out,
    Sergeant. I've got a few questions.”
    Jenna squared her shoulders. “I need some fresh air.
    Seems you're more privy to what's going on than I am, so
    you can answer any questions the FBI might have.”
    Rye touched her shoulder. “Stay in sight of the two
    security guards.”
    Jenna forced herself to walk, not run, out the door.
    Blocking recent events from her mind, she concentrated
    on the one thing over which she had total control, training
    horses. She refused to let anyone manipulate her, the bad
    guys or the good ones.
    Someone, allegedly the mob, was threatening to kill
    her. Kill her over a horse? Common sense told her the
    mob wanted more than Rising Sun, but she didn't have a
    clue what that might be.
    So much for believing that Rye thought her to be a
    great horse trainer. What a freakin' liar. He'd hired her
    because his brother ordered him to. Jenna didn't have an
    ego problem. She was good at what she did. More than
    anything else, she hated that Rye Cameron made a fool of
    her. Twice.
    “Evening, ma'am,” one of the guards said as she
    approached him in the shed row.
    “More like good morning,” Jenna joked. “I'll be
    spending a few minutes with my horse.” She ducked
    under the webbing and woke Rising Sun who never failed
    to give unconditional love. ****
    Rye returned to his desk and slumped in the chair.
    He leaned forward, closed his eyes and rubbed his
    forehead. What a fucking mess. A few days ago, he had
    been in control of his life. Hard to believe that he’d just
    banged a right onto Murder and Mayhem Street. Adding
    Jenna Green to the quagmire gave him one volatile
    situation. His emotional misery came close to physical
    pain.
    As much as he needed to explain his side of the story,
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    Dead Heat
    Jenna would close her ears to anything he had to say. Not
    that he blamed her. Right now, he needed to keep her
    safe. How could he do that if she refused to trust him?
    Why hadn't he told her the truth about Brett?
    Simple. Because she would have turned him down flat
    when he offered her the job. He hadn't lied about
    admiring her training ability, although he probably
    wouldn't have hired her without Brett’s prompting. A
    woman with authority in a barn full of males created its
    own set of problems. But he did hire her, and he ended up
    with a great trainer who just happened to own a fast
    horse.
    A rooster’s crow announced the backside coming to
    life in the pre-dawn. Horses stirred and rattled their
    webbings. He could hear grooms murmuring softly to
    their charges. Rye concentrated on those soothing sounds
    and ignored Brett when he entered.
    “Sleeping on the job?”
    Rye opened his eyes. “You've put me in an awkward
    position.”
    Brett's mouth, so much like his own, quirked with
    humor. “Tell me about it, little brother. Maybe I can fix
    it.” Rye pounded his fist on the desk. “I'm serious. I did
    you a favor. It backfired and screwed up my life.”
    His brother sat in a chair and put his feet on the
    desk, crossing his ankles. “I take it your agitation involves
    Jenna Green?”
    Rye's mouth tightened. The amusement in his
    brother's eyes irked him. “I did what you asked. The
    situation got out of hand.”
    “In other words, you're sleeping with her, or you
    want to sleep with her. Which is it?”
    Rye's irritation grew. His brother would