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After a second, Leigh nodded sadly. “He was still our father.”
“‘It takes more than a biological act to be a father’ isn’t just a saying, it’s a fact. You know as well as I do that the only thing Marcus loved was his roses. Come on, we need to get out of this heat.”
Leigh let her sister lead her away. When she cast a final look over her shoulder, Gavin was gone, but she glimpsed another figure darting between the headstones. Definitely not a mourner. Maybe a celebrant who’d come to make sure Marcus was really dead?
She chided herself for the nasty thought. More than likely, a photojournalist had been snapping pictures for some tabloid. The recent events at Heartskeep had made the Hart family headline news once more. Marcus would have hated that.
As far as Leigh was concerned, the media could print whatever they liked. Still, as they reached the car, she couldn’t prevent her gaze from sweeping the cemetery once more. Gavin was gone. She told herself she was relieved. He was the last person she wanted to talk with.
Was his presence the reason she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that something bad was about to happen?
“YOU WILL HELP ME,” Martin Pepperton snarled. The horse at his back danced several steps sideways and snorted, reacting to his angry tone.
Nolan backed to the stall opening to give the large animal more space. He shot a quick glance around the empty barn, feeling dangerously exposed.
“This is no place for this discussion,” he told Martin, noting the too-wide pupils and the man’s sagging jowls. Martin Pepperton was Nolan’s age, but at twenty-nine, Martin was not aging with grace. The youngest member of the illustrious Pepperton family was beginning to show the effects of his years of substance abuse.
Martin sneered. “What’s the matter, Nolan? Afraid of a little horse? Panteena won’t hurt you. Will you, girl? You should put some money on her next time she runs.”
The high-strung animal stomped its hoof, jerking hard on the lead Martin held. Nolan had a strong urge to walk away and not look back. It was unfortunate that he was still tied to Martin with bonds only death would sever.
“I’ve got to get back to my group,” he told Martin. “The answer is no.”
“Remember old man Wickert?”
Nolan glanced wildly around again to make sure the barn was still empty. “Shut up, Martin. That was a long time ago, and it was an accident. The old man wasn’t supposed to die.”
“Think the police will care?”
“What’s wrong with you? Even your drug-soaked brain ought to know if one of us goes down for that, all three of us go down.”
Stepping away from the horse, Martin scowled at him. “You want a bigger cut, is that it?”
Nolan swore. “I don’t want your money,” Nolan told him, seriously worried now. Martin was crazy—and dangerous. More dangerous than Nolan had realized.
Martin took a menacing step forward, startling the horse into almost rearing. He yanked hard on the beast’s halter. The animal kicked out and whinnied in protest.
“I’ve already transferred ownership of Sunset Pride to you. Except, of course, the horse isn’t really Sunset Pride,” he said with a vicious chortle. “Anyhow, I need you to front for me on this deal.”
“Why the hell did you put that nag in my name? I told you on the phone that I didn’t want any part of your scheme.”
“My family’s been part of the racing circuit here at Saratoga Springs since the early 1900s. That bastard made a fool of me when he sold me that worthless colt. But I’ll show him. I have a reputation to protect.”
“What about my reputation?”
“You aren’t in racing,” Martin scoffed.
“Exactly. No one’s going to believe I bought a racehorse. Why would I? I don’t even like the blasted animals.”
“Businessmen buy racehorses all the time. They’re investments, a simple business transaction. All you need to say is that you bought the horse and now you need the cash for something else. The paperwork on this deal won’t be challenged. Until they run a DNA sample, no one can prove a thing. And they won’t. Why should they? Besides, no one will be surprised that someone outside the racing world was fooled into buying a worthless horse. The only one who will look like a fool is Tyrone Briggs.”
Nolan shook his head. “No way, Martin. I told you, the risk is too high. I want no part in selling Briggs or anyone else a worthless horse. They’re going to trace it right back to you anyhow. You aren’t thinking clear.”
Martin’s face underwent a dark change. “I’m thinking just fine,” he snarled. “You’re the one who isn’t thinking. I need you to do this for me. You act as owner on this sale or, so help me, I tip the cops about what really happened seven years ago.”
Fear sent Nolan’s pulse racing. His friend wasn’t bluffing.
“Will you listen to yourself? You’re so high you’re acting nuts, Martin.” A trickle of sweat started down his forehead.
When a gun appeared in Martin’s hand, Nolan’s mouth went dry. Martin had become unpredictable at the best of times, but now, as Martin’s generally florid cheeks flushed a brilliant shade of red, Nolan knew real fear. The bastard was just crazy enough to pull the trigger.
“Don’t be a fool, Martin. The minute you fire a gun in here, people will come running.”
“Maybe I don’t care.”
His eyes glittered with a drug-induced sheen. Nolan had no doubt Martin was high enough to pull the damn trigger and worry about the consequences later.
“You don’t need this kind of petty vengeance,” Nolan said in an effort to placate him.
“The guy screwed with me. He’s going to pay. No one’s going to make me look like a laughingstock. By the time Briggs learns the horse is worthless, he’s the one people are going to laugh at.”
Reason wasn’t going to work. The drug was in charge. Nolan took a half step forward into the cramped stall and tried not to look at the nervous animal shifting restlessly.
“Okay, okay. If it’s that important to you I’ll make the call.”
Martin grinned. Sensing victory, he lowered the gun. Nolan sprang forward. Panteena squealed and kicked the wood sharply as the men came together, struggling for possession of the weapon. The gun discharged, muffled by the press of their bodies.
Nolan wrenched it free. For a second, Martin stood there with a blank look of surprise on his face. Then he folded with a groan. That was too much for the frightened animal. The horse reared with a loud shriek of protest. Nolan jumped back just in time. The wicked hooves came down with deadly accuracy. He heard the crunch of bone even as he hurried out of the stall and closed the gate.
He didn’t waste time fooling with the lock as Panteena reared again. In a maddened effort to escape, the horse put all fifteen hundred pounds behind the blows it inflicted on the mangled form at its feet. Nolan ran toward the opening at the far end of the barn and heard the splintering sound of hooves against wood.
Any second now, the horse would hit the gate and be free. That was fine with him. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about Martin Pepperton again. No way could he have survived those hooves. A quick glance over his shoulder nearly stopped Nolan’s heart cold.
A woman stood framed in the opening at the opposite end of the barn, looking right at him. She turned away quickly and at that moment, the horse kicked open the un-latched gate and erupted from its stall. With a sinking feeling, Nolan began to run.
She must have recognized him. He hadn’t changed that much in the last few years. And he realized Martin’s gun was still clenched in his fist.
Nolan shoved the weapon in the belt under his jacket and altered his course. He needed to establish an alibi—fast. There was a chance the cops wouldn’t listen to the bitch, especially if he could produce a solid alibi.
Hell. Maybe he’d get lucky. Maybe the horse would run her down and kill her too, saving him the effort.
LEIGH STEPPED from the beauty shop and swung her hair experimentally. Her head felt several pounds lighter. The sensation was strange. She couldn’t ever remember having short hair, but she liked the feeling. And as a bonus, all those long, golden-brown strands were going to be put to good use. The beautician had suggested donating her hair to a local group that made wigs for people undergoing chemotherapy. She’d been only too happy to agree.
All in all, she felt pretty good as she walked down the street to meet her sister at Rosencroft and Associates. The lawyer’s office had called Hayley right after Marcus’s funeral. Eden had announced her intention to attend the meeting and Hayley hadn’t argued.
“Let Mr. Rosencroft explain that she has no authority at Heartskeep anymore. It isn’t worth an argument.”
Leigh agreed. She’d never understood the relationship between Eden and Marcus, any more than she’d understood the relationship between Marcus and her mother. There had been no affection between any of them. Yet Marcus had married both women.
She shook off the perplexing thought and looked down the street, relieved to see that Eden had brought Jacob with her this afternoon. His presence might have a calming effect on the high-strung woman. The two were waiting on the sidewalk outside the narrow brick building that housed the lawyer’s office.
“Hi, Jacob,” she greeted. “Eden.”
Jacob turned, his boyishly handsome face breaking into a wide smile. “Hey, Hayley! Where’s your shadow?”
Though he’d grown up with them, Jacob still couldn’t tell Leigh from her sister. Leigh was used to it, so she offered him a cheeky grin.
“Wrong as usual. Here comes Hayley and Bram.”
The couple had taken a walk through the town of Stony Ridge while Leigh was having her hair cut. Now they strolled up, hand in hand. Jacob groaned.
“You cut your hair too? I could finally tell you two apart.”
Eden sniffed imperiously, patting at her stiff, bleached blond hair. “I’m going inside, out of this heat.” Without waiting for a response, she reached for the door handle. Jacob rolled his eyes behind her back, but hurried to hold the door for his mother.
Leigh smiled. Everyone liked Jacob. Even Bram, who’d been understandably territorial when they first met, had come to terms with the younger man after Jacob took a bullet while trying to protect Hayley. Leigh still found it hard to believe Jacob had actually proposed to her sister, but Hayley was convinced Jacob had done so to protect her from Bram.
Jacob had taken on the role of unofficial older brother to them right from the start. Eden had worked as their father’s nurse and assistant since before they were born, so Jacob had spent a lot of time at the estate when they were growing up, especially during the summer and school breaks.
Initially, Jacob and Eden had viewed Bram as a fortune hunter. To protect Hayley, Jacob had asked her to marry him. This made perfect sense to Hayley and Leigh, but Leigh still wasn’t sure Bram understood. The truce between the two men still seemed a bit uneasy to her.
Inside the brick building they discovered someone had gone to great lengths to give the law office a cozy appearance. Comfortable chairs and a coffeepot with a tray of cookies beckoned visitors to relax while they waited. As usual, Eden wasn’t interested in relaxing. She strode up to the receptionist as if she hadn’t a second to wait. Hayley shook her head at the maneuver and winked at Leigh.
“So what do you think of the shorter style?” Hayley asked, sotto voce, ignoring the woman.
Leigh swung her head and grinned back. “I love it.”
“Me too. I’m not sure Bram’s thrilled though.”
“Hey, I told you I liked it,” he protested.
“Uh-huh. You also told me you loved my hair long.”
“And I did.” His eyes took on a smoky look. “It wouldn’t matter to me if you were bald.”
Oh, yeah, he was a goner, all right, Leigh thought happily. Hayley had picked her mate with the same single-minded determination that she used on everything else in her life. Leigh wished she shared a bit more of her sister’s assertiveness. She was tired of being known as the quiet twin. On the other hand, her one attempt at being bold and daring had led to an unmitigated disaster, and that was one lesson she would never forget.
“Yo, Leigh, wake up,” Hayley said, giving her a nudge.
The receptionist was ushering them down a short hall to an open door. Bram stepped back, letting Hayley, then Leigh, precede him into the room past the cheerful receptionist.
Leigh came to a dead stop one step inside the room. Bram bumped into her, but Leigh barely noticed. She only had eyes for the man standing behind the desk.
“Hello, Leigh.”
Gavin Jarret’s gravelly low voice sent her heart rate tap-dancing. She’d barely been able to stop thinking about him since that glimpse across the cemetery, but he was the last person she’d expected to see in here.
“Don’t tell me you’re in trouble again?” she blurted out.
The corners of his mouth lifted slightly. “I’m on the other side of the desk now. You did tell me to make something of myself, remember?”
Heat flamed her cheeks. He was standing behind the gleaming walnut desk, dressed in a dark conservative suit instead of jeans. His thick, wavy hair had been cropped into a stylish business cut, though that didn’t stop a few of the unruly strands from straying toward his forehead.
“You’re a lawyer?”
His lips slanted wryly. “Sometimes I have trouble believing it myself.”
A lawyer. The word didn’t make sense. Though he dressed like a lawyer, the bad boy of the county still lingered in his relaxed, confident pose. And as those restless eyes skimmed over her, they still seemed to have the power to penetrate beneath the surface and read her very thoughts.
“Leigh?”
Her sister had moved to her side protectively. Aware of the sudden undercurrent, Bram also took a protective step forward on the other side of her. Wry humor sparked in Gavin’s eyes at her unexpected buffer. While touched by their concern, Leigh didn’t need anyone to protect her from Gavin. Not anymore.
“Why don’t you all have a seat?” Gavin invited.
“Really, Leigh, pay attention. Didn’t you just hear that girl tell us Mr. Rosencroft died last week?” Eden demanded.
Leigh blinked. Every eye focused on Marcus’s widow. Eden had usurped the chair front and center of the desk and was staring at Leigh with obvious impatience.
“No, actually, I didn’t,” she told Eden quietly.
“Well, sit down. I have things to do today. You and Mr. Jarret can have your personal discussion after we conclude this meeting.”
Gavin’s silence spoke louder than words. He regarded Eden as if she was an unpleasant curiosity. Which wasn’t far off the mark, unfortunately. Leigh had never cared for Eden, and the antipathy was mutual. In the past, Eden had been careful not to let her aversion show when other people were around.
At Gavin’s silence, the woman’s sharp expression faltered a bit. Jacob shifted uncomfortably at her side. After a long pause, Gavin turned to Hayley.
“Ms. Thomas, if—”
“I think formality is a bit pretentious under the circumstances, don’t you? I’m still Hayley,” she told him.
Gavin inclined his head. “If you’ll all take seats we’ll see if we can’t hurry Mrs. Thomas on her way.”
The gibe was so deftly accomplished, Eden didn’t catch on. Jacob’s puzzled expression turned speculative. His gaze went from Leigh to Gavin and back again. If he didn’t already know about their brief moment of notoriety, someone in town would undoubtedly fill him in as soon as he asked a question.
Hayley was still in her protective mode, so Leigh mustered what she hoped was a reassuring smile. The sight of Gavin might be doing crazy things to her insides, but she could handle the situation. Especially since Gavin was no longer looking directly at her.
She claimed the seat farthest from his desk and reminded herself that she was no longer seventeen. On the outside, at least, she would appear cool and sophisticated and ready to handle whatever came her way. She was very glad she’d had her hair cut before coming in here today.
Gavin began passing out paper folders. When he came to her, Leigh even managed an impersonal smile. Was that a hint of admiration she glimpsed in his eyes, or amusement at her pretense? He returned to his desk before she could be sure.
“Mr. Rosencroft had been ill for some time preceding his death. For the past several months, I’ve been the only associate in Rosencroft and Associates. I’m familiar with the estate and the various wills involved and am fully prepared to administer the estate, but you may, of course, wish to petition the court to assign the function to someone else. If you wish to do so, I’ll understand.”
Leigh held his gaze without blinking. No one said a word.
“The packets I just handed each of you contain copies of the agreement set forth between your grandfather, Dennison Barkley Hart, and this firm. There is a copy of his will as well as a copy of the one we have on file from your mother, Amy Lynn Hart Thomas.”
“What about Marcus?” Eden demanded sharply.
