22. Mika

22

MIKA

T hree of Alfie’s Men in Black flank me as I leave the house less than an hour after Alfie’s abrupt departure back to New York. Their presence serves as a constant reminder of how completely my life has been turned on its head, and it sets my teeth on edge, but I try to ignore them as best I can.

My commute is even shorter than usual as I walk from the main house to the stable, and in the soft early-morning light, I’m met with the sight of more armed men standing every ten feet around the barn’s perimeter. Talk about tense energy. It feels like gunfire might erupt at any given moment. This isn’t going to help the animals at all—or the program I’m having to fight tooth and nail to keep intact through all this madness. Hopefully, Alfie can deal with this conflict quickly—because as it is, I’m worried the horses might start to find the presence of humans more anxiety-inducing than anything, and that’s the last thing that’s good for a racehorse.

I can feel the conflict before I hear it—that same buzzing anticipation in the air that made the horses restless the day Alfie first arrived. As I step into the alley, though, I catch the sound of raised voices, and my stomach drops, the hair standing up on the back of my neck. It’s Francisco—surprise, surprise—his tongue moving a mile a minute as Alfie’s men stand stone-faced inside the barn-door entrance, tactfully ignoring the argument spoken in rushed Spanish.

“I told you we should have left while we had the chance. Now, he’s put guards on all the exits,” Francisco says. Then, as if realizing someone outside of his small group might understand, he drops his voice to just above a whisper. “They could be keeping us here under the pretense of calling it protection.”

I can see his concern, since he wasn’t at the racetrack yesterday. He didn’t see what happened.

Before I can speak up, Javier shakes his head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No? Then why are they here? Why do we need protecting? Because the new boss has enemies. Have I been wrong about who he is? I knew his presence was a bad omen.” Francisco tsks, shaking his head as he snatches up a brush as if to go to work cleaning Missy, who stands patiently in the crossties for him. But instead of cleaning her, he points the brush in Javier’s face, then directs it at each of the men who have gathered to listen to his speech. “Mark my words, this is just the start. We’ll be as good as slaves if we stick around. Our lives mean nothing to men like him.”

He’s being careful to avoid Alfie’s name, I can tell, but it’s clear that’s who Francisco is scared of. Nervous glances pass between the men, and my heart flutters as I realize they’re as close to walking as I was. I can’t say I blame them after everything that’s happened. But rather than taking Francisco’s speech to heart, I ball my fists as warmth surges through my veins, and I feel instantly defensive of Alfie—a shocking response I hadn’t anticipated.

“These men are here for your protection,” I insist in Spanish, stepping in.

Javier glances at me gratefully as he fidgets with the sweat rag in his hands.

“Mr. Bonetti has assured me he’s handling the situation, but in the meantime—as inconvenient as their presence might be—try not to think of his men as the enemy. They’re here to ensure nothing else happens. That’s all.” I work as much empathy into my voice as I can muster, attempting a reassuring smile as I hold Francisco’s gaze. “Let’s just try to keep things as normal as possible, okay?”

“ Si, se?orita, ” Javier agrees, gesturing for the men to get back to cleaning the stalls.

With a huff, Francisco turns his attention back to Missy, and I feel the uneasy tension lingering in the silence. I don’t know how long I can keep the barn together, and I hope Alfie has good news for me soon, because I’m barely holding it together. The worst part is the gnawing thought in the back of my head, reminding me that all of this is happening because Alfie set his sights on me. All this upheaval, the anxiety, and the conflict would go away if I left.

Fate’s hooves clatter down the aisle, Hector at her reins, and he stops in front of me with a weak smile. “She’s ready for her ride, se?orita , but Piper’s not here yet.”

“I gave the riders the day off,” I explain. After what happened yesterday, I’m not sure Piper’s ready to jump right back into it, and while I can’t take on caring for all the horses by myself, I can at least exercise the ones who need to be ridden. “I’ll take her out.”

Francisco gives a derisive huff, and I keep my eyes focused on Hector’s accepting face as I bristle. No doubt Francisco is reading into the double standard, and I’m sorely tempted to send him home if he wants to be like that. But if he goes, some of the other grooms might follow, and I really can’t handle this entire operation on my own.

Seeming to read my frustration, Hector passes me the rein, pretending he didn’t hear Francisco. “She’s in a good mood today—still riding high after yesterday’s win,” he says, patting the filly’s red neck.

“Thanks, Hector.” Digging my stopwatch from my pocket, I pass it to him. “Will you be my clocker?”

He takes it with a nod and follows me down the aisle, my trio of guards falling in behind us. Fate snorts, her head rising to look behind her, and when I glance back, I can see why. The men clearly don’t know much about horsemanship. They’re crowding her, and while seeing Fate kick out at the hands yesterday was a rare event, I don’t want her to start thinking that’s an acceptable response. Turning on my heel, I keep a firm but gentle grip on Fate’s reins as I look at the guards.

“Back off,” I command, keeping my voice low and steady, though my frustration is climbing. “Unless you want a hoofprint on your chest, you’ll give her enough space to walk. And don’t stand behind her like that. You’re just asking to get kicked.”

I gesture to the man directly behind her, and he takes several steps back. They give us several more strides of separation after that, but even as we reach the tack room, Fate’s still not entirely convinced about their presence.

“I have to grab my helmet,” I say, passing her off to Hector once more.

I’m grateful for the excuse to have a moment to myself, because I know getting on a horse when I’m as wound up as I am will have the opposite effect than I want. I always preach to my riders about managing their emotions on the horse, because horses pick up on all of that. I don’t want to wind Fate up with all my negative energy. So as soon as I close the door, I take several deep, calming breaths. Then I head for the trunk where I’ve stashed my riding gear. I zip on a pair of black leather half-chaps that will protect my calves and keep my pants from riding up. Then I tie my hair at the nape of my neck, pinning the loose ends of my ponytail back up against the crown of my head in a loose loop that will fit under my helmet. Lastly, I cram my black carbon shell racing helmet onto my head.

As I reach up to close the lid of my trunk, my fingers brush a nylon lead rope dangling along the back wall, and my heart skips a beat. A flash of Alfie knotting a similar silky cord around my wrists and tying my hands above my head yesterday heats my skin, and my cheeks flush with the memory of being stripped naked in front of him. It feels nearly impossible to get Alfie out of my head when my body still aches with the reminder of having him inside me. It really doesn’t help that he left so abruptly this morning, without finishing what he started, when I was so close to coming.

My hands tremble with adrenaline as I straighten and take several more deep breaths to collect myself. Wanting Alfie as badly as I do doesn’t help any of the conflicting emotions raging a war inside me. But right now, I need to take things one at a time, and I can start by getting Fate out for a nice stretch after her performance yesterday.

Swallowing hard, I push the inappropriate thoughts of Alfie from my mind and step back out of the tack room.

“Thanks, Hector,” I murmur, accepting the reins once again, and together, we walk outside.

Fate dances as I collect her reins at the withers, and she shifts so she can keep an eye on the three guards who follow me. As much as I disagree with Francisco’s assessment of the situation, I hate to admit that I’m kind of on his side about the guards. I know they’re here to protect us, but their presence is really starting to get on my nerves. The horses are uncomfortable with them, and the men seem to be even less understanding about them than Alfie. The comparison reminds me of Nina yesterday, how natural she was with Fate, and for the first time, I start to wonder how accurate my assessment is of Alfie’s equine understanding. Nina clearly knows what she’s doing, and while Alfie’s behavior is much more understated, when he’s around the horses, he seems to have a good understanding of their behavior.

I push the thought aside as Fate settles, and Hector leans in to give me a leg up. As soon as I’m in the saddle, it feels as though all my worries wash away. It’s like an entirely different world up here, with fresh air that’s untainted by anxiety or fear. Piper’s saddle is a bit on the small side for me, and I have to lower the stirrups by several holes. But Fate waits for me to finish my adjustments, tossing her head impatiently without taking a step, and I reward her with a pat once I’m put together.

Hector stays by her shoulder as we head toward the track, and the three men who seem to be my personal guards take up stations around the perimeter once we get there. The groom stops at the track entrance, leaning against the rail where I usually stand as he waits for me to warm Fate up.

She’s chomping at the bit as soon as I turn her down the stretch, and I laugh as I get my first taste of the energy Piper always has her hands full with. As talented as Fate is, it’s sometimes easy to forget she’s young, but I feel it now as she jumps from a walk straight into a canter, and I have to reel her back in.

“Easy, girl,” I encourage, leaning back to keep my center of balance and use my body weight to contain her.

She chuffs, hopping before she slows into a trot and then back to a head-swinging walk. I go with her movements, letting her stride open up as much as she wants in that gait, and after maintaining her brisk pace up the stretch and around the corner, she starts to relax. All it takes is a cluck to encourage her into a trot, and I post with the bouncy rhythm, a smile stretching across my lips. I miss this—the deep connection of being on a horse. It’s one thing to have a relationship with them from the ground, but it’s something else entirely to be in the saddle, feeling her movement and knowing her mind. It feels incredibly therapeutic, and spending time alone with Fate is exactly what I need to find a bit of clarity. The workout helps stretch my sore muscles as well as hers, and as I let Fate ease into a lope, I know I don’t want to leave this place. I want to make this work, because I don’t want to give up on Fate or any of the horses I advocate for. With every stride, the throbbing tenderness between my thighs reminds me of Alfie. His absence—made only more noticeable from the hollow ache in my core—makes me realize how much I crave his presence. If only it could come without all the complications—the violence.

But am I just falling for another charming rich asshole? Unfortunately, that seems to be my type, and I’m starting to wonder if falling for someone with a wife is a lot less harmful than what we’ve started. Every time I think of how Alfie cares for Nina, though, I’m less confident about what to make of him. He’s arrogant. He likes to throw his money around to get what he wants. But after watching him with his sister, I’m pretty sure he wanted to buy Fate for her in the first place. He was so careful and protective of her at the racetrack. When Nikolai threatened us, Alfie’s first instinct was to get his sister to safety, and again today, as soon as he heard she was in danger, he put his own needs aside to make sure she was okay. He can’t be all bad if he cares that much about his family—and as ashamed as I am to admit it, I am incredibly attracted to him.

Fate twitches beneath me, her ears shifting toward something along the railing, and I take a firmer feel of the reins to guide her attention back to the track as I catch sight of Alfie’s man. He’s good practice for Fate—a distraction she needs to know to ignore on race day—but I make a mental note to tell him and the men they’ll be staying at the barn when I’m working with the yearlings.

We round the bend, and I shift my weight, signaling Fate to do a lead change. She does, her stride opening up on her stronger lead as we pass one of the tree markers. I won’t push her this first time around, but I want to see what her natural speed would be. She feels good, her stride powerful and elastic as her body bunches and snaps beneath me. Her breaths are deep and strong, matching the rhythm of her feet, and the wind whips past my cheeks, pulling at my shirt as it goes.

I let Fate sprint past Hector before I start to rein her back in, and while she’s breathing hard, she still does her best to ignore my request for several strides. Pressing my knuckles into her withers, I let her fight with herself for a moment before she gives in, and her neck arches as she slows into a canter. Bringing her around, I come back to Hector to make note of the time, and I’m glad to hear Fate actually managed to keep a good pace even with a larger rider on her back. She’s getting stronger.

“Let’s do a few more timed laps, but I don’t want to push her too hard; just stretch her legs.”

Hector nods with a smile. “She looks like she’s ready to win another race.”

Frustration washes through me as I think about the races all my horses are missing out on because of what happened yesterday. Fate might not be scheduled to run again for three more weeks, but most of the babies didn’t get a chance to run and won’t for at least a week—if I want to throw off the original schedule I so carefully mapped out on a calendar to best suit their individual needs. But I keep that to myself as I lean down to pat Fate’s silky neck. “Alright, let’s go again. ”

I do two more sprints with the prize filly before giving her a good cooldown and we head back to the barn. Lupe has Titan ready and waiting for me next as soon as I hop down from Fate’s back. I give her a carrot and one last pat before handing her off to Hector. Then I take the hot-blooded black stallion’s reins so Lupe can hoist me into the tack. He dances under me, spooking as soon as one of Alfie’s Men in Black shifts his weight, and I cast the bodyguard a dark scowl.

“You guys are staying here this time,” I state, pointing to the three who followed me to the arena.

“Ma’am, our orders were?—”

“Your orders were to protect this barn, and if you go stalking around the track, carrying your guns like that again, this horse just might throw me off and break my neck, so you’re staying put. You can see the track just fine from here. I’ll be back as soon as his workout is finished.”

The three guards share a glance, but I don’t wait around for a response, and Hector appears with the stopwatch just in time to join me as I head out for my next ride.