• Twenty-One •

“Okay, so we’ve accomplished that Thatcher is now our jockey’s stalker.”

Thatcher

My father’s scowl when I entered his office was expected. I didn’t bother glancing at the others in the room as I made my way to the bar. King, Storm, Sebastian, Barrett, and Ronan were all here, which meant this wasn’t just about my shooting Christopher in the shoulder. Had to be business involved too. Good. I needed a distraction.

“Christopher is out of surgery, and Doc said he will heal up normally,” my father stated while I poured a glass of bourbon.

“Excellent. I was losing sleep,” I replied.

“He was our best exercise rider,” he pointed out.

I shrugged. “And he’s gonna heal up nicely.”

My father narrowed his eyes. “He has decided that working here isn’t a good fit for him.”

I didn’t give a fuck.

Taking the seat farthest away from the others, I took a drink and waited for this to have a point.

“Shooting a man for no reason leads to questions and issues I have to deal with,” he replied.

That was where he was wrong. I’d had a reason. I always had a fucking reason.

I looked at Storm. “You got a smoke?” I’d had my last one before walking into the house.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his pack and tossed it to me. “Keep ’em. I need to stop.”

I caught the package and tapped one out.

“Are you going to sit there and ignore me?” my father asked, raising his voice. The bastard got angry when he was ignored.

“I had a reason,” I replied, lighting up before looking at him. “He did something he shouldn’t have.”

My father leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. “What was that?”

King cleared his throat. I glanced at him and smirked. He was trying to stop me from telling the truth. Good ole King, worrying about me. Taking a deep pull from the cigarette, I turned my attention back to my father.

“He’d taken the wrong crop by mistake,” I replied.

I held my dad’s gaze as he waited for more, but that was the answer to his question.

When it was clear that was all I was telling him, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, and glared at me. “You shot him for that?”

I nodded.

King let out a heavy sigh, and I cut my gaze to his, amused by his need to explain this fully for me. He hated it when I did this, but I enjoyed the fuck out of it. Seeing my dad and the others stare at me like I was a psycho was entertainment.

“What is he not telling me, King?” my dad asked him, appearing put out by all of it.

King shot me an annoyed look. He didn’t like being put in the middle of shit with me and my dad, so I decided to end my fun.

“He took Capri’s crop. She couldn’t find it. Came to get an extra from the room I was fucking in.”

King cleared his throat again. I sighed and leaned back in my chair. He was going to make me finish this.

“She ran out, I went to check on her, Sebastian was touching her, I made him stop, he didn’t keep his mouth shut, so I broke the chair beside him, not on him. I went back inside. Other shit happened. Christopher showed up with Capri’s crop. I was in a foul mood, so I shot him. But I didn’t shoot to kill, which is why he’s alive.”

My dad swung his eyes to King. “You said she wouldn’t be a problem.”

I tensed. What the fuck was he talking about?

“I said she wouldn’t be a problem as long as we kept her.” King turned his gaze to me. “If we stop using her”—he paused—“then it will be a problem.”

When had my father wanted to stop using Capri as our jockey? I put the cigarette out and stood up.

“Sit down,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “She won her first race with us. We are keeping her. She’s not going to be replaced.”

I wasn’t sure if I was eased enough to sit back down or stay in this room.

“Someone needs to say it, so I’m going to. What happens when she rides for someone else? She’s a free agent. She doesn’t just ride for us.” Storm asked.

I turned to him. “You know something I don’t?” I asked him, ready to go handle a problem.

He shook his head. “No. Not yet. But you might want to think about more than just tracking her phone. You need to see her calls, see her texts, even watch her through the camera if needed.”

“Jesus Christ,” Ronan muttered.

“Is that the stalker shit you have on Briar’s phone?” his father asked him.

Storm nodded.

He was right. I needed more than just being able to physically watch her at home. I needed to know who she talked to and when. It would fix a lot of future issues.

“When did the lot of you become psychopaths?” my father asked.

“Don’t lump me in with those two,” Sebastian said.

King didn’t say anything, but we all knew he was thinking the same thing.

“Get me the info I need,” I told Storm.

He grinned.

“Okay, so we’ve accomplished that Thatcher is now our jockey’s stalker. What else did we need to cover today?” Barrett asked.

“Capri,” I corrected him. “She has a name. Call her by it.”

And I hadn’t just now become her stalker. I’d had that title for years. They probably didn’t need to know that though.