25. Mika

25

MIKA

E xhausted doesn’t even begin to cover how I feel as I hand over my last ride of the day. My muscles quiver with the need for a break, and nothing sounds better than a hot bath right about now. As I pull my helmet off, releasing my sweaty hair from its confinement, I know I’m going to be sore tomorrow. I can still feel the stinging marks across my ass cheeks where Alfie punished me, and that, combined with the persistent throbbing between my legs, has made it impossible to think productively today.

“You mind wrapping things up, Javi?” I ask as I make my way toward my office on noodly legs.

“No problem, se?orita ,” he confirms with a nod.

An awkward tension has lingered between me and the grooms since Alfie’s departure, and I know it’s because they must understand what’s going on between me and our boss now. It makes me even less comfortable to be in the presence of people than usual, and every time I get a sideways glance, my skin gets uncomfortably hot. At least Javier seems to be capable of treating me like he normally would—and Hector, but he’s probably one of the kindest, least judgmental people I’ve ever met.

Opening my office door, I step inside and am immediately met with a vivid recollection as the lingering smell of spice, eucalyptus, and sex reaches my nose. My pulse flutters, my temperature rising as the sting of a riding crop across my ass cheeks floods my mind. Something about the incredibly overstimulating experience keeps triggering moments of what happened this afternoon, and every time it does, fresh arousal soaks my panties, leaving my thighs a sticky mess. I’m mortified by how much I liked it—all of it. From the punishment to the demeaning way Alfie made me count each stroke out loud, the rough way he fucked me, and then fingered my ass—I was so turned on, just thinking about it gets me excited. My breath quickens as I press my thighs together in an effort to get myself under control.

I still don’t know how I feel about Alfie dominating me like that. I shouldn’t want it. I don’t want the violence or the fear that seems to come with his territory. But all the way up here, in my safe space, it’s hard to feel like what happened at Saratoga was even real. The shock of it is slowly fading, and in its absence, the pleasure of being with Alfie seems to be filling space in my mind.

I set my helmet on my desk, trying to ignore the way my core throbs at the thought of Alfie bending me over it once more. Take my hair down from its ponytail, scrubbing my scalp with my nails, and finger-combing the tangled curls that have only grown more out of control with the moisture. Then I bend to unzip my half-chaps and toss them on my chair.

Someone knocks lightly on the door, and I sit up, my heart skipping a beat as my mind automatically goes to Alfie—but he wouldn’t knock. I’m confident of that.

“ Se?orita , Joel’s trailer is at the front gate. Se?or Bonetti’s men are holding it there,” Javier says through the door.

Joel? If he’s back, maybe he forgot something and swung by to pick it up while he was in the neighborhood. I haven’t had my phone on me all day since I was riding. Striding across my office, I pull open the door.

Javier takes a step back, gesturing to where I can just make out the hood of Joel’s massive trailer truck.

“Thanks, Javi.” Striding quickly down the aisle, I find Alfie’s guard who seems to be in charge of the security up here. I probably should learn his name, but none of the men have introduced themselves or seem particularly interested in doing so. “Tell your men to let him up. That’s Joel. He’s the one who brought the horses home yesterday.”

The tall Man in Black glances at me skeptically, his gaze clearly saying he’s already gotten his head chewed off on my account once today. He’s not eager to do it a second time.

“It could be urgent,” I say, gesturing toward the truck.

It’s unlikely, but if something’s gone wrong and Joel needs somewhere to unload horses to avoid anyone getting hurt, I don’t want to turn him away. I’ve heard horror stories of animals burning alive in trailers because the transporter couldn’t get them unloaded in time, and a mechanical issue sparked a fire in the trailer. With all that hay in the back, it doesn’t take long for the fire to spread.

Sighing heavily, Alfie’s guard gets on the radio and says something in rushed Italian. It’s close enough to Spanish that I can make out the general meaning as he asks what the driver wants. Then, he commands the person on the other end of the radio to let him pass.

I release a breath, my shoulders relaxing as I stride forward to meet Joel, but the guard grasps my arm, pulling me to a stop.

“We search the trailer before you get near it. This could be a trap,” he states frankly, and despite my confidence in Joel, a trickle of cold fear pools in my belly.

His warning is all it takes to revive the image of my truck exploding, and suddenly, I’m anxious as I watch the truck and trailer roll slowly down the drive. As he nears the barn, I can just make out the transporter’s familiar face—the red Cardinals baseball cap he wears when he’s not sporting a cowboy hat. Relief eases the tension in my chest when he looks calm, and he’s driving with his typical sense of caution. Alfie’s men form a circle around the semi all the same, their guns drawn and at the ready.

As soon as Joel puts his truck in park, his hands raise—the universal sign to say don’t shoot. Then he reaches slowly for his door handle and pops it open to climb out .

“Stop right there!” Alfie’s man shouts as Joel stumbles across the ground.

My heart skips a beat when something moves unexpectedly in the cab, and a moment later, a man follows Joel out of the truck, grasping the collar of the transporter’s shirt as he presses a gun to his head. At the same time, the grates on the trailer windows drop open, and several rifle butts jut out, aiming at the men at large.

A collective gasp behind me tells me that the grooms came out to see what the commotion was about. Now we’re all exposed—countless men’s lives are at risk if anyone decides to open fire—and it’s my fault.

“We have a message from Nikolai,” the Russian holding a gun to Joel’s head states, his accent thick. He sounds incredibly calm about the situation, though he keeps his body well covered by the truck door. Without warning, he pulls the trigger, and I scream as Joel’s head snaps sideways, his body collapsing in a lifeless heap on the ground.

My ears ring from the gun’s loud blast and the shock of what just happened. I can’t tear my eyes from the sight before me. I’ve known Joel for years, relied on him countless times to help me safely get horses where I need them to go, and now he’s just—gone. My stomach turns as bile floods my throat, but all I can do is stare wide-eyed at the horror scene unfolding before me.

Several guns cock, Alfie’s men taking aim, but the leader beside me shouts for everyone to hold their fire. If they shot now, we might all end up dead.

The man who shot Joel pulls the truck door closer so he can peer over it without losing any cover. “We’re here for the whore,” he states coldly, jerking his chin in my direction. “If you hand her over, no one else has to die.”

I shudder as the full meaning of his words hits home—if I don’t go with them, someone else will die. Murmurs rise behind me, and my stomach quivers as I turn to see the grooms holding a hushed discussion. Though I know Spanish, they’re speaking too quietly for me to be sure what they’re saying, and resignation settles heavily in my gut as I realize they must be considering the option. It stings a little, but I get it. My life isn’t worth more than any of theirs—and as terrifying as the alternative is, I couldn’t ask any of them to die for me. I don’t think I could live with myself if they did.

Taking a shaky breath, I dig deep for courage. Then, I square my shoulders and take a step forward. A firm hand grasps my wrist—Alfie’s man, who I convinced to let Joel in. He doesn’t even glance my way as he keeps his gun raised with one hand and hauls me behind him with the other.

“You think we would hand over an unarmed woman to you bastards?” he demands. Then he bellows a command in Italian.

The driveway erupts in chaos as both sides open fire, and I stifle a scream as my heart does its best to escape my ribcage. Several of Alfie’s men drop as others herd the grooms back toward the barn, and the one with a firm grip on my arm keeps me shielded as he does the same to me. The sound of bullets puncturing metal and shattering glass only adds to the chaos of the scene. I can smell gasoline spilling onto the drive, hear the shrill cries of panicked horses, and all I can do is desperately hope that none of the animals get caught in the crossfire.

Tears stream unchecked down my face, and I can’t stop thinking that this is because of me—this is all because of me. They’re here for me. Joel died because of me, and if anyone else dies, that will be on my conscience, too.

After several agonizing seconds of exchanging gunfire—that feels like it stretches for an eternity—the Russians seem to realize that, even with cover, they’re too outnumbered. The one in the cab steps back up to the seat, slams the door, and starts the motor after a few failed attempts. The engine roars to life, black smoke billowing from the exhaust pipes before he throws the truck into gear. The tires miss Joel’s lifeless body by less than a foot, and as they get the truck and trailer turned around, heading back down the long drive, Alfie’s men continue to chase them down with rifle fire.

“The horses!” I scream, thinking about all the animals out in the pasture that could take a stray bullet if they aren’t careful .

The leader orders a ceasefire, and immediately, the shooting stops. In the wake of the violence, the echoing silence is deafening, and I press a palm to my stomach as I try to keep myself from completely falling apart. I can’t look away from poor Joel, and the guilt that tightens around my throat is suffocating. I take a step toward him, but my legs give out, and I drop to my knees as I curl in on myself. Sobs rack my body, making it impossible to breathe.

What have I done?

I wish Alfie were here with me—here to hold me and keep me in one piece. But the emotion seems all wrong when it’s his presence that has brought all of this horrific violence into my life. I’ve never seen a man die before—I’ve never even personally known someone who was shot—and witnessing it is so shocking, that I can’t keep my thoughts straight. I think I’m going to vomit—if I don’t faint first. But as the dust starts to settle and I wade through my murky, panic-logged thoughts, I realize my first priority needs to be checking on the animals and then men who care for them.

Alfie’s men seem to already be pulling themselves together, gathering to help any injured men. As horrible as I feel about what happened to Joel, I need to get myself together and make sure no one else got hurt. Forcing myself back to my feet, I wipe the tears from my cheeks, and stagger back towards the barn. The wood siding is decorated with bullet holes, and I’m immediately grateful that most of the horses are out in the pasture right now. None were occupying the stalls nearest the doors.

The grooms are gathered in the alley, all looking shell-shocked as they process what just happened.

“Is everyone alright?” I ask, my voice ragged with emotion.

Javier nods, though his hands are shaking visibly as he wrings the sweat rag he usually keeps tucked in his back pocket. “I think so, se?orita .”

“Are you?” Hector asks, his eyes wide.

No. But I’m not injured, which is what he’s asking. “I’m fine.”

“ Puta , this is all your fault,” Francisco hisses, stepping forward to get in my face .

“Hey.” Alfie’s guard—the one whose name I really need to learn so I can thank him properly for saving my life—steps forward, raising his gun defensively.

My heart stutters, and I grasp his hand, shoving it down because I’m all too aware of the fact that he is perfectly comfortable using it. “It’s fine,” I say. “He has a right to speak his mind.”

I turn back to Francisco, trying to keep a brave face, when I know he’s right. This wouldn’t have happened if Alfie hadn’t set his sights on me.

“You’ve put us all in danger, spreading your legs for our new boss when you knew he was engaged. I warned you not to mess with the Russians, and while the rest of us are risking our lives to take care of these animals, you’re playing his whore. We should have handed you over,” Francisco snarls, fury rolling off of him in waves, though he allows me my personal space this time.

His words are like a punch to the gut, and my cheeks flame with mortification. He’s not wrong, and the worst part is, I agree with him. These men shouldn’t be risking their lives for me. They didn’t sign up for that. They’re here to take care of the horses, and while I might not have any control over catching Alfie’s eye, if I had continued to refuse him, maybe he would have mended things with the Russians. But I didn’t want to be a side piece—and as terrible as it is to admit, I liked the thought that Alfie wanted me badly enough to break off his engagement because of it.

“Maybe that’s what you would have wanted, but I would never agree to terms like that,” Javier states firmly as he steps forward to stand next to me. “ Se?orita Mika is a good person. She doesn’t deserve to die—and based on your own stories, handing her over to the Russians would have been far more horrible. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy, and I can’t believe you would even consider it. You’re not a man if you would let something happen to her to save your own skin.”

It’s the strongest statement I think I’ve ever heard the barn manager give, and it brings tears to my eyes to hear such loyalty. One actually slips free when Hector steps forward to stand beside me as well. He doesn’t say anything, but the look on his face leaves no room for misinterpretation, and I’m speechless. Their support makes all the difference in the world. I might not deserve it, but my love and appreciation for Javi and Hector is beyond words.

“You would let her risk our lives and pretend she’s innocent in all this?” Francisco asks. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe she doesn’t deserve whatever the Russians would do to her, but I’m not sticking around to see what hell she brings down on us next. I quit.” He turns to look at the rest of the hands, standing wide-eyed and silent, as they witness the altercation. “If you’re smart, you’ll leave with me. Get out while you still can.”

“If you go, the animals will suffer,” Hector says gently, trying to reason with them.

The grooms exchange looks, uncertainty flitting across their faces, and my heart breaks as I read the direction their decision is leaning toward. Javier glances toward me, his eyes silently encouraging me to speak up in my own defense. But I can’t. As much as I hate to admit it, Francisco is right. It’s not safe here because of me. I can’t tell them to stay when I can’t guarantee their safety. I promised them Alfie’s men would keep them safe—and while they did this time, it’s still my fault Nikolai’s men rolled right up to our barn and opened fire.

I shake my head, tears rolling down my cheeks once more. “I’m sorry. If you want to go. I understand.”

Javier’s face falls, and as one, the barnful of grooms I’ve worked with for years leave as one, walking past me without a word.

When the mass exodus is over, only Javier and Hector remain.