“OH MY GOD, oh my God!” Sasha couldn’t stop talking about it. “That was amazing.”
She clutched Tana with one hand, Kota with the other. “How do you do it? How do you get them to accept you like that, to worship you?”
Chris wanted to know the answer herself, but she couldn’t marshal the words to ask. She was well and truly awestruck.
Tana, for once, didn’t poke fun at his brother. “It’s all Kota. He’s got a way with animals. Always has.”
To Chris’s mind, it was more than “a way.” It was mystical.
After riding breakneck for miles, they’d walked back through the meadow with the horses milling around them, as if the humans were part of the herd. The black one—Blackie, another Kota original—kept bumping Kota like they were schoolyard chums. The chestnut—Sugar—practically had her nose in his pocket. And the others, all of them, had jostled for position, trying to get next to him.
“Kota vouches for me,” Tana went on, “or they wouldn’t let me near them. And considering the hellhole he saved them from, I wouldn’t blame them for never trusting a human again.”
“You must be so proud,” Sasha said, beaming at Kota. “Of changing their lives. Making them whole.”
Kota shrugged. “They keep the grass cut so I don’t have to mow it.”
Tana scoffed. “Don’t let him kid you. He’s got ranches in six states. Horses, dogs, cats, hamsters—”
“Just the one hamster,” Kota cut in. “A friend of a friend’s.”
“Not to mention that he’s overrun Ma and Pops’s ranch with rescues. He’s the softest touch in the west.” Tana snorted a laugh. “If people only knew Mr. Gun ’Em Down can’t watch a cute kitten video without bawling.”
“I think that’s sweet.” Sasha rubbed Kota’s arm. “And I happen to know your brother’s just as sappy.”
She slid an arm around Tana’s waist. “Don’t worry, boys, your secret’s safe with Christy and me. Right, Christy?” She gave Chris a wink like they were best girlfriends.
Chris managed a watered-down smile, while inside she was going to pieces.
She’d had Kota all wrong. Sure, he was arrogant and horny, and he expected her to fall into bed with him like every other woman on earth.
But he was also loyal and generous and not dumb at all.
She’d been in denial, probably so she could justify betraying him, but the evidence was irrefutable. Her first clue was the wedding toast, an ode to family and fortitude that didn’t leave a dry eye in the house. Then there was Em, the kind of woman who wouldn’t have given Kota ten minutes, much less ten years, if he wasn’t worthy of it.
Then his parents, so down-to-earth and normal, and obviously the most important people in Kota’s world. Then Cy and Tri and Van Gogh, all of them damaged throwaways to most people, and that much more precious to Kota because of it.
And now . . . now this thing with the horses.
He was some kind of shaman.
Tana, the other man she was poised to betray, was kind and funny, and loved his brother and his wife and his parents wholeheartedly. And Sasha was sweet and sincere and ready to befriend Chris, never knowing she was a spy bent on exploiting every intimacy to save her own sorry ass.
They reached the guesthouse, pausing at the porch steps. “Are you okay?” Sasha asked, touching Chris’s arm in a way that was friendly and comforting, and so, so undeserved by the traitor in their midst.
“I’m a little queasy.” True. “Probably too much sun.” A lie.
“I’ve been there,” said Sasha. “Drink lots of water. Kota, you make sure she drinks lots of water.”
“I’m on it.” He stroked Chris’s shoulder, his hand so gentle she could scarcely bear it.
Tana took his wife’s hand. “Don’t worry, honey, Kota knows what to do.” He shot Chris a friendly smile as they arced off toward the main house. “You’ll feel better in the morning,” he said.
But she doubted it. She doubted it very much.
THEY WOULDN’T BE picking up where they left off, Kota realized, not with Christy so pale.
He scooped her up in his arms and headed for her bedroom.
“Hey.” Even her protest was feeble.
“Don’t worry, I won’t take advantage of your weakened condition.” He kissed her wan cheek. “You need a cool shower, a tall glass of water, and a good night’s sleep.”
He nudged her door with his foot, set her down in the bathroom, and turned on the shower. “You take the shower, I’ll get the water, and we’ll both tuck you in.”
Afraid to leave her alone for too long, he sprinted to the kitchen, poured an ice water and piled some berries in a bowl, and got back to her room before she was out of the shower.
He stuck his head in the bathroom. “Need anything?” It didn’t hurt to ask. Maybe the cool water revived her and she wanted help soaping up.
“No thanks.” She still sounded peaked.
The shower turned off, and a minute later she emerged in a cotton nightie that hit her midthigh. His adrenaline spiked, but he kept lust off his face. She must really be hurting if she waltzed out in front of him without seeming to care.
She headed straight for the bed. He pulled back the cotton sheet, watching her nightie ride up as she slid under it.
Then he sat on the edge of the bed. “Drink this.” She drank it, then sank back against the pillows. Her face was as white as the linen. “Are you hungry?”
She shook her head, staring up at the fan. He stroked her forehead with one hand and held her wrist with the other. Her pulse tripped crazily under his thumb.
If she’d been beautiful to him before, she was breathtaking now, her eyes dark pools, haunted and mysterious.
The need to care for her overwhelmed him. “I can stay with you, sweetheart. This bed’s so big you won’t even know I’m here.”
That should’ve prompted a snide remark, even though he meant every word. But all she said was “No thanks, I’ll be okay.”
So he kissed her cheek, her palm, ran a knuckle over her jaw. And reluctantly, he left her.
In the kitchen, he tended the animals. The dogs got the dregs of Alfredo mixed into their supper. The cats got the food he’d had specially formulated and manufactured to his exact specifications. Everyone got fresh water, and he got a Corona. He took it out on the porch swing.
Twilight was his favorite time on the island. Over the ocean, stars sparkled like diamonds flung across midnight blue velvet. Creatures rustled in the foliage, coming out to hunt in the cool evening air.
As it always did, the island’s serenity soothed his mind and made him more contemplative than usual.
Sipping his beer, he wondered idly what would have happened if he’d stuck with his original plans. If he’d finished college and continued on to veterinary school instead of going off to L.A. with Tana.
He wouldn’t be sitting here, that was for damn sure. And God knows what would’ve happened to Tana, alone in the wilds of Hollywood. He shuddered to think of it. There was damn little in his life to be proud of, but he’d always taken care of his brother.
Rocking the swing with one foot, he reflected on the wedding, feeling rightfully smug. Security-wise, it was an unmitigated success. No problems with nut jobs or overenthused fans, and not a single reporter wriggled through the net.
Take that, Em. She loved to mock his control-freakishness. So did Tana. But nobody complained when things went off without a hitch.
In fact, the wedding’s only unforeseen complication was Christy. Their instant attraction had punched him in the gut, and he couldn’t seem to catch his breath.
From the moment he’d met her, she’d run roughshod over his plans. He’d done everything he could think of to herd her into line, but she was completely unpredictable. Her emotions were all over the map. One minute she was hot as a pistol, the next she cut him off at the knees. He still wasn’t sure where he stood with her.
In fact, the only thing about Christy that he could be sure of was that he couldn’t be sure of anything.
Cy wandered over to sit in front of him, giving him the one-eyed stare. Kota dropped one eyelid and gave it back to him.
Cy blinked first, then slunk off to lie in the doorway, hinting at bedtime. Tri was nowhere to be seen, probably snuggled in bed with his new girlfriend Christy.
The sky had gone full dark while he ruminated. The only light on the porch was what spilled from the kitchen.
Up at the main house Tana and Sasha would be banging away. Good for them. Sasha was a nice girl. He liked her. Ma and Pops liked her. So did Em.
Charlie would’ve liked her too.
That thought snuck out of the shadows and stabbed Kota’s chest, stealing his breath. Sweat broke out on his brow.
His instinct was to flinch away from the pain, to shift his thoughts elsewhere, like he usually did.
But tonight he was tired and lonely, a deadly combination. Gloom settled on his shoulders like a shroud. What right did he have to push Charlie out of his mind? The first and best friend he’d made in L.A. was dead, and he was partly to blame.
The least he could do was respect his memory.
He drained his Corona and held the bottle up to the light. What had he been drinking the day he’d met Charlie? Something cheap, for sure, since he and Tana had just rolled into town.
They’d been half drunk when a casting agent spotted them at the bar. Recognizing fresh meat on the hoof, he made them an offer on the spot—starring roles in the movie he was casting. All they had to do was sign on the dotted line.
Being smarter than they looked, they tried to read the contract. The agent got pissy and summoned his friend, a guy so big he made two of Kota.
Things were shaping up to get ugly when Charlie entered the scene. Pushing his Ray-Bans to the top of his head, he said with a smirk, “Eugene, does your parole officer know you’re back at it? Coercing innocent young men into making porn?”
Eugene tried to save face, but all he could come up with was “Fuck you, Charlie Brown.”
He slithered out the door with his muscle, and Charlie watched them go. Then he said, “If you boys are looking to make porn, you can do better than Eugene. If you’d rather keep your clothes on, come with me and I’ll buy you a burger. Ever been to In-N-Out?”
And that’s how Charlie came into their lives.
He was an agent, but he didn’t sign them that day. He didn’t sign them at all. He befriended them, and in Hollywood a friend can be harder to find than an agent.
With Charlie’s help, they scored jobs as PAs on the set of a blockbuster, where they rubbed elbows with megastars and a famous director. That led to more jobs, a few minor roles, a lot of wild parties, and a mind-blowing profusion of pussy.
And through it all, Charlie kept them from blundering. He genuinely had their best interests at heart. So much so that when another agent—a big one—offered to sign both brothers, Charlie urged Kota to bow out and let Tana travel the Hollywood road alone.
“Once you start making real money,” he said in words that would prove to be prophesy, “you won’t be able to walk away. You can kiss vet school good-bye.”
At the time, Kota had scoffed. But look at him now. Fifteen years in the business, zillions in the bank, his next three movies lined up, and he’d yet to finish college.
He wouldn’t complain, not when so many had so little. And besides, he wouldn’t do anything differently. Who knew what disaster might have befallen his brother if Kota hadn’t hovered in the wings?
But things had changed. Tana was settled now. Established, mature, content.
Married.
He didn’t need Kota anymore, not like he had before. And Charlie, well, he was long gone. Ten years dead and buried.
So, what now? For the first time, Kota’s life had no purpose.
For the first time, the man with the plan didn’t have one.