Chapter Seven #3
But I was a veritable inferno. Every part of me was a live wire.
Alexis had seen me look at Hallie like I wanted her—because I fucking did.
But that information could not be in the hands of someone like Alexis Hobbs.
She followed the Sandings Tour, was at every single stop, “taking care” of her clients.
She was a wolf, and I’d just made Hallie a sacrificial lamb.
Exhaling in frustration, I scrubbed my hands down my face and fucking hated myself when I felt them shaking. I saw the taillights of Alexis’s Bentley exit the long road out of the property and couldn’t shake the twist in my gut her words had given me.
Word on the street is that your run of bad luck of late might not be purely happenstance . . .
What did that mean? What had she heard? Did she know something? Could she be involved somehow? Surely not. But what if . . .
My head throbbed from all the racing thoughts. Would Alexis go as far as to resort to threats and violence against my loved ones to get her hands on Golden Oaks? The fact that I now wasn’t sure was alarming. It wasn’t like people hadn’t done this type of shit for decades in this industry.
Or worse.
I began to walk, to fucking anywhere, just to stop the slamming of my heart from breaking my ribs, my racing thoughts from shifting to a migraine.
My mind was a whirlwind. All I saw were rapid images of pain and sadness—my father’s accident, his broken body, eyes frozen open with death, staring up at me as I clutched his still hand, as the scent of his blood invaded my senses.
Next came Genny and Dahlia falling in Saint-Tropez, my sister being crushed, and me watching it all, believing she was dead too—more still hands, lying empty like they were searching for my help. Cold shivers stabbed down my back.
Then there was Hallie. Lively, rebellious, beautiful Hallie, whose reputation may have just been ruined because of the way I looked at her in front of a woman hell-bent on destroying any rival she believed she had. All because I got fucking hard watching Hallie jump.
I couldn’t seem to do shit about the threats to my family and business just yet, but I could make sure that any rumors about Hallie and me would be put to rest. The last thing she needed as a new rider on the circuit was snide whispers about her fucking her boss.
She was too good of a rider to be the subject of ridicule for her private life.
And if Alexis smelled blood in the water, she would attack.
Like any apex predator seeking dominance, she couldn’t seem to help herself.
“Jas!” I looked behind me to find Forrest running to catch up with me. Unbeknownst to me, I’d been heading in the direction of the outdoor arena where the Knighton Equestrian shoot was taking place. Seemed I really couldn’t fucking keep away from Hallie right now.
I schooled my features so my cousin wouldn’t suspect anything and waved my hand at him. Forrest fell into step with me. “You heading to the shoot?” Forrest asked. “Atticus has been there a while now.”
“On my way,” I said, without stopping.
Forrest grabbed my arm. “What’s up your arse?”
My heart was still beating erratically, but I just said, “Alexis Hobbs just left.”
Forrest grimaced. “Shit. That’ll do it,” he said. “Is she taking the new foals when they’re ready?”
I nodded. Then just to give him some explanation for my shitty mood, said, “She offered to buy Golden Oaks again and practically offered to ride my cock too, so just another regular meeting with the infamous Hobbs heir.”
Forrest sighed. I felt my cousin’s gaze boring into me. I swear, I felt his grin aimed my way, like there was a disturbance in the air. I swung around and faced him. “What?”
Forrest folded his arms over his chest. He shrugged.
“Nothing. I’m just disappointed that I haven’t found you in a better mood.
” I glared at Forrest harder. That used to work on him when we were kids, but now we were grown, I didn’t intimidate him at all.
“I’d heard a bit of information I thought might have put a spring in your step. ”
I stayed glaring at him. Forrest eventually cracked.
“Thought it was interesting that apparently you sent Sage Miller and Atticus on their merry way last night, only to have Hallie Oakley model some solo shots for you. Alone. In the warehouse. Unplanned.” I exhaled slowly through my nose.
“And,” Forrest said, not bothering hiding his shitty, smug smile this time, “you gave her a ride home. Just the two of you. For an hour. On all those dark roads . . .”
“Is there a question in there, dickhead?” I snapped. My pulse raced. I’d been so stupid with Hallie. So fucking stupid. What the hell was I thinking? I was being too obvious with her. I was a grown fucking man, not a teen with a crush. I had to put an end to this.
Now.
Forrest studied me closely, making me feel like a rat in a lab. “What’s going on, Jas? Do you like her?” His humor had ebbed, clearly seeing my icy response, and now he was truly looking into my fucking soul like only a loved one could.
I turned and walked away. Forrest followed.
I had to stop this. I looked over my shoulder.
Forrest put his hand on my arm and spun me around.
He was frowning. “No one would begrudge you some happiness, you know?” I rolled my eyes.
He was talking about Hallie, and I literally couldn’t listen to this anymore.
To knock him off the scent, I said, “I’m not the hearts-and-flowers type, Forrest. And neither are you, so don’t be giving me shit over something you know isn’t in our DNA.”
“Jas—”
“Leave it!” I snapped, cutting him off.
Of course, he didn’t. “You know, Atticus has been telling me that both Hallie and Sage have a lot of admirers on the circuit. She leaves for Doha in a couple of weeks.” He shrugged. “There’s a lot of rich, good-looking bastards who’ll be interested in her. You’d be okay with that?”
That shouldn’t have bothered me as much as it did, but the tidal wave of jealousy that crashed through me at Forrest’s teasing words was all-consuming. But it didn’t matter. Nothing could happen.
With every step to the arena, I grew increasingly agitated. Why, in a matter of weeks, was I letting all my perfectly constructed walls crumble? It only took my phone ringing to push me completely over the edge.
“Yes?” I answered, curtly.
“The new lead we had has gone dead.” Phillip, my PI. Instead of feeling let down, my blood tipped to boiling temperatures.
“Perfect,” I snapped, and went to hang up, when he said, “The Franklin Stud farm in Yorkshire has been hit.” I stopped dead and looked up to find Forrest watching me. All teasing drained from his face. He could tell something was seriously wrong.
“Hit in what way?” I asked.
“Someone injected their stallions with 1-Androsterone. They’ve failed the drug tests for the upcoming Grand Prix, and there was also a break-in where someone tried to get to the weaned foals that were ready for sale.
Luckily, they were interrupted and fled before they could.
But it’s yet another hit on a stud farm in the past twenty-four months.
I’m trying to determine whether the incidents are related, and if they were getting threats beforehand too. ”
What the fuck? Forrest had clearly heard Phillip as his lips tightened in anger and concern.
“You think whoever did it could be the same person targeting us?”
“Don’t know, but it’s a possibility,” Phillip said. “The crime has just been reported. I have an in at the police who let me know. It’ll hit the equestrian gossip mill by the end of the day, I’m sure.”
I rubbed my forehead with my hand. “Keep me updated,” I said, and hung up. I would call Phillip back later and put him on Alexis Hobbs’s scent. Something about the shit she said to me had my alarm bells ringing.
“It’s nothing new, Jas,” Forrest said, trying to placate me.
“It’s not like we don’t see this often.” And he was right.
This shit had been happening to studs for years.
Rivalry, jealousy, money . . . It all played a role in this industry.
Good studs raked in millions, if not billions of pounds a year. Foul play was common.
I didn’t speak, instead letting what Phillip said add to the burn Alexis had already kindled inside of me.
It was laughable—from the outside, the horse world looked gentrified and proper, all perfect manners and class.
In truth, it was like a bad reality show, filled with scandals and a whole lot of fucking behind people’s backs.
When we got to the arena, Atticus was on Barnaby.
He was midflight over a jump, Steve, the photographer, capturing the motion.
We stopped at the perimeter fence. I immediately searched around me and saw Sage and Hallie in the outdoor arena behind us, keeping their horses warm.
My lungs seized when I saw Hallie was now dressed in the turquoise set I’d requested her in yesterday.
Huxley was wearing the matching saddle pad and ear bonnet, as well as the brushing boots on his legs to keep them safe should he hit a pole.
The color was in stark contrast to his dark-brown coat.
And then there was Hallie. She cantered Huxley around the arena, then lined up for the approach. There wasn’t anything I could fault with her seat or technique as she took Hux over the 150 cm fence. In the base layer and riding tights, the clingy material showcased her hourglass figure.
I couldn’t fucking want her.
I couldn’t.
For the second time that day, I was saved from my wayward thoughts by my phone. Tim Franklin from the Franklin Stud was calling.
I walked a few feet away from the arena, seeing Atticus head for the gate. His part of the shoot seemed done for now. “Tim,” I said in greeting.