Chapter 26

26

L ogan ignored the sizzle of instinct that told him he was doing the wrong thing. He was used to thinking that Clancy's plans were a bad idea. Was this really any different? He was just sad to say goodbye to Tabby for any length of time. That was the only reason that the pressure seemed worse than ever behind his eyes. He'd just be gone two days, three at the most.

Wrong, his stallion murmured. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

It's just temporary, Logan assured him. We've been sold before. It always works out.

Neither his horse nor his instinct settled in the slightest as Tabby signed him away and kissed his nose goodbye.

Something is WRONG, his horse insisted, and for a moment, it was an actual struggle to keep them walking forward when Clancy led him up the ramp into the horse trailer.

It's just a horse trailer, Logan insisted. No worse than any other horse trailer. It was actually a lot nicer than a lot of horse trailers he'd been in, with room for multiple animals, even if Logan seemed to be the only passenger .

Wrong, his stallion growled back, stamping their foot.

Let it go , Logan said soothingly, letting Clancy hook him up to the trailer tie. We'll take a nice little ride to a swanky stable, have a bunch of oats and fresh hay and as soon as it's safe, we'll shift and get an Uber home.

"Have a good ride, cousin," Clancy said. "Thanks for making this so easy." He slapped Logan on the flank and left, pausing to have a brief conversation with a man outside the trailer.

Logan wasn't sure why Clancy's words felt so ominous. Maybe Clancy had gotten a bigger cut than he'd let on. Logan shrugged. Clancy could have the money from his sale. Tabby had the prize money and a number of potential new clients. It's a good plan, he told his horse.

WRONG , his stallion insisted.

The horse trailer wasn't just bigger, but also better sprung than the conveyances he used with Clancy, so it was a smoother ride than Logan expected. He forced his misgivings aside and spent the trip drowsing and thinking about Tabby, about living on her ranch and raising Franzi together. They hadn't talked about what happened next with them, but Logan liked the idea of settling down. Would she want to get married?

Logan had to laugh at the change his life had taken. Logan of just a few months ago would never have imagined this kind of domestic happiness. Now he had a little girl and a lot of big dreams.

It was a long trip and Logan was grateful when the highway finally gave way to a winding driveway that opened to a palatial estate that he could just glimpse through the horse trailer window. Unnaturally green lawns carpeted landscaped slopes, and a sprawling mansion overlooked a whole cluster of buildings. Logan counted at least seven garage doors as they went through a gate, and saw the sparkle of a swimming pool through a courtyard.

This is how the other half lives, he thought.

At one point, it was all he aspired to.

Now, he couldn't wait to get back to the comparatively brown scrub of Tabby's ranch. He'd rather have her pretty and plain land than a hundred of these fancy properties. The trailer pulled up beside a stable with a covered arena.

Logan shuffled a little in place out of habit.

"We got him!"

The agent who had closed the sale was the one who opened the back of the trailer and Logan rolled an eye to see who was standing beside him.

Shit.

Some jobs went so sideways that they were remembered forever, and this had been one of them.

Clancy had sold Logan to a horse enthusiast with deep pockets and good security, and it was because of the heat that the thwarted collector had put on them that Clancy had moved to smaller, weaker targets like Tabby.

Shit.

Adam Tallier was a big man with big, cruel hands and he was looking at Logan with a dangerously self-satisfied smirk.

"I've bought you twice now, Logan ," he said casually. "I'm not losing you again."

Logan's alarm escalated. How did this man know his real name? He resisted his impulse to tug at the lead or shift, keeping his neck soft and his feet still. He couldn't quite keep his tail from swishing in agitation.

It didn't matter what Tallier tried to do to him. In a day or two, he'd have an opportunity to escape and all of this would be behind him .

But Tallier had known his name.

What had Clancy told him? Why would he risk a sale to the same person ?

WRONG! his stallion was screaming without stopping. WRONG. WRONG. WRONG.

At this point, Logan couldn't tell what was his horse's sheer panic and what was instinct, burning him like a poison oak rash. What do you want me to do? he asked impatiently.

Fight! Flee! Kick! his stallion offered.

Later, Logan wondered if that wouldn't have been the better option, but he stubbornly shoved both horse and instinct back. He would keep up the act, be docile and obedient. Nothing but a horse in here, he thought as hard as he could. I'm just a big beast who wants to work.

Who are you calling a beast? his stallion wanted to know, distracted from his panic by the insult.

Not you, Logan assured him. We're just pretending.

"Bring him," Tallier said, snapping his fingers.

The agent jumped to obey, unclipping Logan's lead and backing him down the ramp.

Logan saw no point in trying to escape, despite his stallion's whining, and wheeled in place to face Tallier with no hint of recognition or more than animal intellect.

"Show Logan his new accommodations," Tallier said with a smile.

The stable was sparkling clean and freshly painted. Logan found himself comparing it to Tabby's. It utterly lacked personality; everything was sterile white and modern chrome, with no dents or scratches. Not a strand of hay was out of place. His stall door had a keypad lock instead of a latch, which seemed ridiculous and clearly only for show. Tallier was the sort of billionaire who want the latest and greatest, even when it was pointless, and would only delay getting horses out in an actual emergency, but it allowed the stall design to include enough room for a face to squeeze through, since there was no mechanical latch a clever horse could puzzle out. No doubt it had been selected because it looked fancier.

But the keypad added no challenge to Logan, because he had his keypad cracker in his pocket. As a human, he could release himself as easily as if there had been a simple latch.

Logan cast an eye at the walls; he would be able to scale it easily as a man. The security was all designed to keep a horse inside.

To Logan's surprise, two men waited inside the stall and a smell made him step more slowly. Something was burning.

No, not burning, it was the smell of hot metal, like an overstressed engine. The agent had the lead on Logan and pulled him into a corner of the stall, so that Logan couldn't turn to figure out what it was without visibly resisting.

"Where do you want it, boss?"

"Left hip," Tallier said. "I want it visible."

Logan realized what must be happening and fought to get control of his head back in time to glance back and see one of the men stepping forward with what looked like a glowing metal brooch at the end of an iron stake.

WRONG! his stallion screamed as the metal touched his flank.

They were aligned in their protest and Logan kicked and bit and reared, but not before the brand seared into his flesh with a white-hot flash of pain.

It hurt so badly that Logan was disoriented, like he'd just been kicked in the head himself, and his stallion took over, lunging and fighting.

The men scattered before him and the branding iron went flying to rattle off the wall and fall to the ground.

"Get out of here!" one of the men cried.

"Shit!"

Logan reared and struck the agent with his front hooves as he ripped his lead out of his hands. He rolled away before Logan could come down on him, and one of the other men dragged him out of the way as Logan staggered and turned. He got another kick in, and a mouthful of torn fabric before they tumbled out of his stall in a flat-out panic.

Tallier, safely back near the door of the stable, asked, "Did you get it on him?"

"He's marked," one of the men said, examining the part of his shirt that had been torn. Logan hoped he got a little flesh with it; he could taste something metallic in his mouth.

"Good work," Tallier said.

Logan charged the door and was pleased that everyone stepped back, even though he didn't do more than rattle it in place. He snorted and stomped, daring them to try him.

Tallier stepped forward a little, flushing like he was embarrassed that he'd been caught flinching. "Might as well settle in, Logan. You're here for good this time."

Logan spun and landed a double-barreled kick at the door, which only rattled in place.

The men seemed to relax, realizing that there was nothing he could do from inside his stall while Logan paced and tossed his head.

"He'll mellow out and get to work when he realizes he has no choice," Tallier said firmly. "Won't you, Logan. "

I'd rather eat nails and spit them at you , Logan thought fiercely.

Then they were gone and Logan was alone in his stall. The stable was quiet except for the snuffling and shuffling of other equine inhabitants.

His flank hurt.

That sonofabitch branded me, Logan realized. He still felt fuzzy, like he'd been drugged, not just burned, and he was happy that his stallion had plenty of self-defense skills.

Wrong , his stallion said mournfully. You're wrong.

I know I was wrong to do this job, Logan snarled. You don't have to rub it in.

No, his stallion said. You're wrong now.

Logan was inclined to agree, even if he couldn't put his finger on what was off. Normally, he'd wait until night to make his escape, but finding that Tallier was his ultimate buyer worried him deeply. He would risk being stopped as a man to get out of here and back to Tabby and Franzi faster.

He thought about slipping his shape back to human and waited for his perspective to change as his height shrank.

Nothing happened.

Logan tried to rub his head with a human hand and just convulsed, dipping his head and lifting one hoof.

He was still a horse.

Shifting had never taken much effort. Even as a child, Logan had been adept at moving from one form to another, taking his clothes with him early and excelling at trick shifts that involved tossing something off his back to catch it in human hands.

He didn't know what to do when it simply didn't work.

He tried concentrating harder, around the pain blooming on his hip and his forehead. If he could just focus…

He still had four feet.

What's wrong? he cried. Why isn't it working?

WRONG, was all that his stallion could reply.