As Asadi walked around the massive show barn, he couldn’t help but envy the Kaisers’ impressive setup. He’d never admit that any of their quarter horses could match the bloodline they’d developed over decades on the Kohl Ranch, but the training facilities on the Mescalero were hands down among the best around. Garrett and Butch had lost more than a few big rodeo, cutting, and ranch horse clients and customers to Vicky over the last couple of years.
The Kaisers had a world-class, state-of-the-art equestrian center. The Kohls had a few stalls and a tack room. And after a wildfire had destroyed much of the ranch two years prior, and left them on the verge of bankruptcy, they were lucky to have even that. But the Mescalero-Savage Energy partnership, formed nine months earlier between Garrett and Vicky, had saved the ranch. Now their energy and agriculture-related businesses weren’t just surviving. They were thriving. Grit and determination were fine, but the truth was that money makes the horse world go round.
Asadi’s pride was also hurt by the fact that Savanah worked for the Kaisers part-time—taking all the skills she’d learned from the Kohls to the competition. Their actual breakup hadn’t been messy, just a subtle drifting away. But before any of that, the two had been best friends. She’d taken him under her wing when he first arrived in Texas and until recently, they’d been inseparable. Somehow though, the distance after she’d moved had put a gulf between them. She had an entirely new life that slowly but surely no longer included him.
As he wandered around the barn, Asadi wished he’d never come out there. Not only did it bring up the sting of losing Savanah, but it also reminded him of what small potatoes they were compared to the Kaisers. But his dad had wanted to check in after the incident that morning and make sure everything was okay. Asadi was about to get out of there when she walked in.
Savanah looked more annoyed than surprised. “What are you doing here?”
The simple question for some reason cut deep and Asadi certainly didn’t care for the tone. Savanah didn’t own the place. Her dad, Ray Smitty, just worked there.
Asadi worked hard to play it cool. “Killing time while Garrett meets with Vicky.”
Savanah moved over to the wall by the tack room, picked up a plastic bucket by the door, and scooped some Purina Ultium pellets into it from a white plastic bin. “Oh. That’s okay, I guess.”
“Yeah, I know it is. Garrett asked Vicky on the way over and she said it was fine.”
“Well, I can’t stop and talk now.” Savanah continued her scooping without looking back. “Got a lot of work to do before the storm comes in.”
As always, Savanah’s mousy ringlets were pulled back into a messy bun. Nary was the occasion when she wasn’t in boots and jeans. And she pulled it off like a champ. It bugged him terribly that he was still so attached. But what could he do? The heart wanted what it wanted. And he was having to pretend really hard that it didn’t want her.
“Don’t mind me.” Asadi kept on the move. “I’ll just pretend like you’re not even here.”
“Good.” Savanah turned her gaze to him and flashed one of those I know something you don’t know kind of looks. “We will do the same.”
Asadi gave a confident nod, having felt as though he’d scored a few cool points with his frosty response. But then it dawned on him she’d used the word we. Before there was a chance to follow up, he saw why.
The sight of Duke Newhouse made Asadi’s blood run cold. And it wasn’t just the surprise of seeing someone who’d been shipped off three years ago to the New Mexico Military Institute (NMMI) in Roswell. It was also the fact that Duke was nearly the spitting image of his departed uncle, Preston. Until Vicky took control of Mescalero Energy, her brother had been at the helm.
On top of being a world-class jerk, Preston had worked with a vicious Mexican cartel in a drug trafficking and money laundering scheme until Garrett, Tony Sanchez, Ray Smitty, and a few other fed-up locals had taken him out. According to gossip, Duke was going down that same dark path as Preston. Not only was he using drugs, but he was selling them. There was an even juicier rumor that Duke had barely avoided arrest in New Mexico for doing just that.
Just like his uncle, Duke was tall and muscular, with a blond shock of perfectly coiffed hair that totally fit the Hollywood stereotype of an arrogant rich kid. And his bad-boy reputation had raised his profile with more than a few of the girls who were into the dangerous thing.
Doing his best to fake a greeting, Asadi called out a greeting in a voice that sounded strained, like he was trying too hard. “Hey, Duke! When’d you get back?”
Duke squinted. “One of the Kohl kids, right?”
“Sophie and Chloe’s cousin,” Asadi replied. “They introduced us. A few times, actually.”
Savanah stepped up and stood beside Duke. “He’s living back home now.”
“Home?” Asadi asked. “What home?”
Duke never really had an actual home in the traditional sense. He was the only child of a divorced, self-described bohemian mother, Miriam Newhouse, who tended to vacation, when she wasn’t focused on her art. She had a place in Canadian but split her time between the historic district of Charleston, South Carolina, and an exclusive resort in California near Laguna Beach.
When Duke had gotten too difficult to handle, Miriam sent him to NMMI to get straightened out. Now, apparently, he was Vicky’s problem.
Savanah sounded defiant. “He’s been living here at the ranch with Vicky for over a month now and doing quite well.”
Doing quite well? Asadi was tempted to call her out but fought to hold his tongue. Savanah didn’t talk like that. When he met her, she was living at a trailer park in a rusted-out Airstream. And why on earth was she defending Duke? Was he a wounded animal she’d taken into her care? Asadi remembered that at one time, it was he who had been the recipient of her affection.
Duke jumped in. “Look, kid, I know my aunt said you could poke around here, but playtime’s over. Hate to see you get hurt.”
Is this guy for real? Asadi knew more about taking care of horses than Duke Newhouse would ever know. He was about to say as much when Garrett’s GMC pulled up to the open double doors at the opposite end of the barn.
Duke spoke again. “Looks like your ride’s here.” He gave a friendly wave to Garrett like a parent might do, then locked his gaze back on Asadi. “Better skip along now.”
This was almost too much for Asadi to take. Kid? Playtime? Skip along? Of course, there was the very real possibility that Duke was actually trying to be nice. But that theory was shot when he moved in, lowered his voice, and added, “Probably best you don’t come back.”
Duke donned a fake smile and squared off. His fighting posture was subtle enough to hide it, but obvious enough to drive home the point. Although the menacing message was clear, the reason for sending it wasn’t. Is he after Savanah?