Jacob
“Sorry I missed your call. My physical therapist is here, torturing me.”
I grin when I hear a protest go up in the background.
“No worries. How are you?”
“You mean other than being subjected to cruel and unusual punishment for any and all inadvertent insensitive comments I may have made over the course of my marriage?” More background protests from Laura, his wife and his PT. “I’m good. Maybe a little bored. When are you coming back up here?”
“Once this case is settled, and I’ll bring a bottle of the best Kentucky bourbon money can buy as a thanks for your help.”
Help is an understatement. I’ve relied on more than just this man’s expertise to guide me in my quest to bring down David Wheeler. He offered me his knowledge, his connections, and his reputation, without asking what I needed it for. He knows what I do is good work and that’s enough for him.
I’d do the same for the guy I’d spent almost a month beside in a hospital room in Germany, after our unit was ambushed by insurgents fifteen years ago.
“Not going to say no to that, brother. How are things going anyway? Did you get everything I listed?”
“About to. I’m just waiting for the paperwork to be finalized. Then we can make arrangements for the pickup.”
My eyes are fixed on the door, keeping watch for whoever walks out.
“Have you looked into a companion pony for the filly?” he asks.
“Working on it. But what I was calling you about is to see if you’ve ever heard of a Morton Ackers?”
“Ackers? No, can’t say I have. Why? Who is he?”
“He owns a place called Grandview Estate. It’s a large property with a main lodge, several guest buildings, stables, a track. It’s big. Apparently, several racehorses are stabled there at any given time.”
It was a long shot, but I had to try.
“Never heard of it.”
I catch sight of the door opening, but it’s an older couple coming out of the building. My eyes start following them into the parking lot when I notice someone coming outside behind them.
“Hamish? Sorry, I’ve gotta go. I’ll get back to you.”
I hang up, just in time for the passenger door to open.
“It’s done.”
Like every other time I’ve been in her presence, every nerve in my body goes on alert. This woman has that effect on me. Her smile is like a punch in the gut and I struggle to keep an impassive mask in place.
She waves a folder in my face.
“Signed, sealed, but not quite delivered.”
“Was anything said about the actual transfer?”
“He said the agent would get in touch with me to schedule a pickup.”
I nod, start the truck, and drive out of the parking lot.
We’re in downtown Lexington and the roads are gridlocked due to construction and volume. It’s going to take a frustrating while to get out of the city. Traffic starts getting heavy around three o’clock and tends to last until at least six.
It’s even more frustrating sitting in traffic, next to a woman who haunts my dreams but is out of reach.
“I’m starving,” Onyx announces.
“Afraid I’m all out of cinnamon buns.” We ate those on our way here. “I can stop somewhere if you’d like?”
“Can we hit up a drive-thru? I don’t really want to stop; we still have stuff to do.”
“Sure. We’re going to pass a couple of fast-food places up ahead. Take your pick.”
She wants Rally’s because of their milkshakes so that’s where we stop to pick up burgers and shakes. I can’t remember the last time I had a milkshake—probably in my much, much younger years—but it’s pretty tasty.
Eating while driving is not normally something I’d recommend, but in stop-and-go traffic I can make it work. Not a huge fan of the cheeseburger, but I’m finding everything seems to taste better when in Onyx’s company.
She’s currently driving me crazy with her occasional little moans and grunts of enjoyment. It calls up mental images that are also not advisable when operating a vehicle and are more suited for visualization in the shower. I strategically drape a napkin on my lap.
It isn’t easy to continuously deceive her—or any of the others for that matter—but I have my reasons for wanting that degree of anonymity. I question whether any of them would be working for me if they knew, and the work we set out to do is too important.
I’m taking a risk, working side by side with her, but we each have our reasons for wanting to bring Wheeler down.
“I feel better now,” Onyx declares, crumpling up her food wrapper.
I watch from the corner of my eye as she leans back in her seat, crossing her hands over her stomach, before she turns her head my way.
“I’m assuming you’ve pulled a trailer before?”
“I have.”
It wasn’t a horse trailer exactly, but I don’t think it makes that much difference. At least I’ll have a chance to tow it a few times without the precious cargo inside.
“That reminds me,” I add. “We need to talk about one or more companion ponies.”
“Companion ponies?”
“Ponies, you know…small horses?”
I grin when I catch her glaring at me.
“Don’t be a smart-ass, Hamish. I know what ponies are, I’m just not sure what a companion pony is.”
“Horses are not loners by nature, thoroughbreds are no exception. A companion pony is like a support buddy for the horse, both at their home base and on the road. They travel with the horse and often double as a lead pony to keep the thoroughbred calm right before the race.”
“And Arion’s Moon needs one?”
“She’ll need a companion, yes, and it’s safer to have more than one,” I inform her.
“Does Jacob know this?”
I turn my head and look at her.
This is the part I fucking hate; lying to her.
“He is aware, yes.”
Onyx
I’m not going to lie, I’m excited about having a couple of cute ponies roaming around.
Maybe we can add some goats, plus, I’ve always wanted a dog.
I shake my head and remind myself this is not my farm, Arion’s Moon is not my horse, and this is not my life. It’s a temporary situation and when the time comes, I’ll be heading back to my apartment where animals are not allowed. If I don’t stop fantasizing, I’ll cause myself heartbreak.
“How did you find them?” I ask Hamish, who was back again first thing this morning.
He hitched the trailer we picked up yesterday to his truck, and we’re on our way to look at a pair of ponies at a farm one county over. It’s going to be another busy day. The prospective stable hands are coming this afternoon, and I still have to figure out how to give Joey some privacy in the dorm.
“Through a contact. These two come as a pair, so the owner was looking for someone willing to take them both. The horse they were companion ponies for died unexpectedly a few weeks ago.”
It’s a nice drive through the hills, only half an hour or so. An older gentleman is waiting in front of a barn, waving us over when we drive up to the farm. Hamish rolls down his window as the man approaches the truck.
He does a little double-take when he catches sight of Hamish but covers it well.
“The turn is a little tight here. It’s easier if you loop around the back of the barn.”
We do as instructed, and Hamish parks the truck with the back of the trailer close to the barn doors.
Eager to see the ponies, I’m out of the truck before he has a chance to open the door for me. I walk up to the man and hold out my hand.
“Onyx Baqri. Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” he states a bit gruffly. “Neil Myers.”
His hand is calloused and grabs mine firmly.
“Morning, Neil. We spoke on the phone yesterday,” Hamish says behind me.
“Yes. I brought the ponies inside for you to have a look.”
I’m almost giddy with anticipation when he opens the large barn doors. Not exactly two cute Shetland ponies, but I love the look of the two beauties poking their heads over the side-by-side stalls.
“They’re Paints,” I observe, instantly drawn to the black-and-white patched horses.
“They are, both geldings,” Neil confirms. “They’re known for being calm and even-tempered, which makes them well-suited as companion or lead ponies.”
I walk up to the one on the right, already angling his head toward me. I hold out my hand and his soft lips brush lightly over my palm, looking for a treat.
“I don’t have anything for you,” I mumble.
“His name is Murdoch,” the owner shares. “The other one is Buck.”
As I pet Murdoch, his buddy nudges my arm with his nose, so I give him some attention as well.
“I can bring them out so you can have a proper look at ’em,” Neil offers.
No need for me, I’m already sold, but Hamish clearly needs more reassurance.
I step back as Neil opens the stall door for Murdoch and hooks a lead on his halter. The horse waits patiently in his stall while Neil puts a lead on Buck as well. Then he guides both horses to the middle of the aisle.
Hamish approaches and runs his hand along Buck’s neck and down his front leg, lifting it up. I’m not sure what he’s looking for, but he does the same with the other three legs, before checking the horse’s mouth and then his back end. Next, he moves to Murdoch and puts him through the same scrutiny.
“How old did you say they were?” he asks the older man.
“Buck is seven, Murdoch is five years old.”
“And you’re asking twenty-eight thousand for the pair.”
Neil confirms with a nod.
“Seems a little steep,” Hamish comments.
“Not if you consider you’re buying two experienced lead horses, who have been tried and tested out on the track. They also make for great trail horses. My grandkids ride them.”
“Twenty-five.”
The old man narrows his eyes on Hamish.
“Twenty-seven and not a penny less,” he fires back.
Before Hamish has a chance to piss the man off more, I intervene.
“Sold. Twenty-seven it is.”
Hamish throws me an exasperated look I ignore. Instead, I turn to Neil.
“Let’s get this finalized.”
It turns out buying a couple of companion ponies is much less involved and complicated than buying a racehorse was. It’s not even noon when we drive away from the barn, Buck and Murdoch in the trailer behind us.
“I could’ve gotten him down to twenty-six, given a chance,” Hamish grumbles.
I shake my head. He’s no different than most other men I know; everything becomes a competition at the expense of common sense.
“Nickel-and-diming an old man over a thousand dollars is a waste of time. Especially after spending an easy half a million dollars on a racehorse.”
He opens his mouth, intending to protest I’m sure, but apparently thinks better of it.
“Besides,” I try to mitigate. “He did throw in their tack.”
“Those saddles are falling apart.”
“They’re not that bad, and they’ll serve us just fine.”
For the next several minutes it’s quiet in the truck until Hamish breaks the silence.
“Did you ever ride?”
“A horse? I sat on a pony once when I was a child, that’s about it. It wasn’t really something common when I was growing up, and of course there was nothing like that when I was living at Transition House. I love them though, they’re so majestic and yet seem so gentle.”
“I can take you. Teach you. You have horses now. And tack,” he adds with a lopsided grin.
That grin gets me every time. Because of the scarring, his face is like a mask and not very expressive. However, when he grins like that, laugh lines fan out from the eye on the unmarred side of his face, letting his personality shine through.
“I think I’d like that. But I should probably check with Jacob to make sure my medical insurance is up to date.”
I’m standing by the glass doors, looking out at the stables in the rear, where I just see Hamish disappear.
“What do you think?” Kate asks, sidling up beside me.
“They both seem nice and capable, but let’s see what verdict Hamish comes back with.”
Mitch dropped Kate off about ten minutes after we got back with the horses. He went on to Lexington to meet up with Sawyer, his daughter.
Having Kate arrive when she did was perfect timing, giving a little more credence to my portrayal of wealthy socialite when Jose and Joey got here. I’m well aware it’s a role I’ll have to be mindful of at all times, once they move here. Although, for how long that cover is necessary, remains to be seen.
“You like him.”
My head snaps around. Kate is scrutinizing me. Or at least it feels that way.
“Sure, I like him. What’s wrong with that? He’s a decent guy, has been very helpful. In fact, he’s gone out of his way to—”
I’m cut off when Kate puts a hand up to my face, palm out.
“Whoa, Nelly. It was an innocent statement, but you just elevated it into a friendly inquisition. Give me all the dirt.”
“There’s no dirt. Nothing worth mentioning.”
“So, there is something,” she persists.
I should’ve known she’s not that easily put off, Kate is as headstrong as they come.
Part of me thinks maybe I should tell her. Of all people, Kate and Janey know me, just as I know them. We share a traumatic history, one we were all able to recover from, but also all have lingering hang-ups from.
“Can I venture a guess?” Kate offers.
“Be my guest.”
It’s not like I’m going to stop her anyway.
“You’re conflicted because any feelings for Hamish would be a betrayal of the torch you’ve carried for Jacob. On top of that, feeling something for Jacob is safe, because he’s a voice on the phone. This guy is real, flesh and bone, you can touch him, feelings for him might actually develop into something real, and that scares you.”
My first reaction is to snap at her.
“You’d think it was you with the psychology degree.”
I know I’m lashing out because her analysis is painfully close to the truth. Of course it’s immediately followed by a deep sense of shame at my reaction.
I, however, am the one with the degree, but what is it they say? Healer heal thyself?
“Close,” I admit. “It does feel like a betrayal.”
“Of who? Of Jacob, or Nathan? Or both?” Kate probes. “Do you know how ridiculous that sounds? I mean, I know there’s some kind of connection between you and Jacob—we all do—but you’ve never actually met the man. And Raj, Nathan has been dead for over two decades.”
“I’m aware of that,” I whisper.
I can still feel the boy, who was supposed to be my future, brutally ripped from my arms.
Kate puts her hands on my shoulders, looks me in the eye, and gives me a little shake.
“Honey, do you really think he’d want you to restrict yourself to half a life?”