Lena Diaz - Stranded With The Detective

He wasn’t ready to trade the single life for a baby stroller, or to say goodbye to his prized 4x4 pickup that was so high it required a step side to climb into it. Still, he had to admit, married life seemed to agree with his friends. Three of his SWAT teammates had succumbed to the love bug. Dillon, Chris and Max were happier now than they’d ever been. Thankfully the other members of the team—Donna, Blake and Randy, who was out of town right now—were just as intent on maintaining the single life as Colby. There was only so much lovesickness a guy could tolerate at work every day.

“Excuse me,” a voice called out behind him.

Colby had to jump back to avoid a face full of muzzle. A dappled-gray mare and its rider clopped past him toward the stands where the derby had been earlier. There were a lot more people on this side of the fairgrounds now, milling around and standing in line at the various food vendors to load up on greasy or sugary snacks before the horse show and subsequent race. Horses were being led out of the tent in a chaotic rush.

When it seemed safe to head toward the tent to check on Gladiator and Piper without getting trampled, Colby started that way. A large bay gelding with flashy white stockings and a blaze on its face rushed from the tent, forcing him to hop out of the way again. Its rider jogged beside him, holding the reins. He waved a sheepish apology and Colby waved back.

The sound of pounding hooves had him whirling around, expecting another horse to be charging down on him. But the sound wasn’t coming from the direction of the tent.

It was coming from the parking lot.

He turned in time to see an enormous black horse racing through the rows of parked vehicles, its small rider clinging to the withers and long, thick mane as they galloped toward the trees.

It was Piper. On Gladiator. Bareback, without a bridle to steer him.

Colby cursed and looked around. The white stockings on the bay’s legs caught his attention. The gelding was a good fifty yards away now. He sprinted after the horse and grabbed the reins from the rider.

“Police emergency. I need to borrow your horse.”

He put his foot in the stirrup and vaulted up onto the saddle while the rider was still sputtering in surprise.

“Yah.” Colby slapped the reins and squeezed his thighs, sending the bay into a full-out gallop.

Chapter Four

Piper was forced to slow Gladiator to a fast walk so she could safely thread him through nature’s obstacle course. Even though many of the trees had lost their leaves for the winter, the pines hadn’t, and there were enough evergreen bushes around to make the underbrush thick and cloying. Low branches reached out like spindly fingers to scratch and pull at the horse’s thick mane and tail. Piper’s own long curls had been tucked down the back of her jacket. But the constant movement kept spilling her hair onto her shoulders, getting in her way.

She shoved one of the curls out of her face and then tightened her hands in Gladiator’s mane. If her plan hadn’t failed utterly, she’d have had him safely loaded in the trailer by now. When she’d sneaked into the tent earlier this morning, before the fair opened, she’d been shocked to see Gladiator tied to the boards of his stall. She’d wanted to run right in and free him, but she’d forced herself to wait. With only her ranch manager’s description to go on, she had to confirm which of the men milling around in the tent was Palmer. Once she’d seen him enter Gladiator’s stall, it had taken everything inside her to keep from running in after him right then and there. But his size was a problem. She’d needed a plan. That’s when she’d come up with the idea of disabling his vehicle to get him out of the tent. But first, she’d had to figure out which vehicle was his.

Everyone with a horse in the tent had to register, and that included writing down the makes, models and license plates of their trailers. All she’d had to do was mosey over by the registration table, glance at the clipboards, and she had what she needed to find Palmer’s truck and trailer. If he’d locked his truck, she’d have slashed his tires. Probably. Maybe. She wasn’t in the habit of destroying other people’s property, even if they were low-life horse thieves. Thankfully the truck wasn’t locked. She’d rummaged in his toolbox and used his own tools and a rubber washer to tamper with his battery connection. Unfortunately, she’d dallied too long, watching the handsome cop, and Palmer had caught her before she’d escaped with Gladiator.

The man had screamed when she’d turned the knife toward him. But it must have been a ruse to confuse her. Because then he’d surprised her by slamming his fist down on her forearm and grabbing the knife.

She frowned. He wasn’t anything like he’d seemed at first. There was something beneath the surface, a capacity for cruelty that had the hairs on her arms standing on end. She didn’t know how much of what he’d displayed today was an act and what was real. All she knew for sure was that she didn’t trust him, and she never wanted to come up against him again.

Now all she needed to do was ride deep into the woods and wait out whatever search might ensue. She should be able to hire a driver to bring a horse trailer to some remote location on the other side of these foothills. Then she could meet him there, load up Gladiator and be gone before the cops—and Palmer—realized what had happened.

But what would she do after that?

She could take Gladiator home to Lexington and fight Palmer and Wilkerson in the courts there. It would be easier to prove her ownership around people who knew her and knew her horse. But the Destiny police had ordered her to wait for a judge’s decree. By going against that order, how much trouble could she be in? Was stealing your own horse even a crime?

Clenching her hand tighter in Gladiator’s mane, she used the pressure of her thighs to steer him around a rotten tree stump. He pranced sideways, snorting in agitation.

“Hush now. It’s okay, boy. We’ll figure a way out of this. Don’t you worry.”

She urged him across the road and signaled him to stop in front of a deep ditch so she could figure out where they could safely enter the thick woods on the other side. Path chosen, she angled him a few feet farther down the road, then balanced her weight forward to make it easier for him to jump.

A loud click sounded behind her.

“Jump the ditch, and I’ll shoot that horse right out from under you,” a man’s voice called out.

She looked over her shoulder. On the other side of the road, at the edge of the tree line, was Detective Colby Vale, sitting on top of a beautiful bay gelding. But it wasn’t the horse that drew her attention or even the angry expression on Colby’s face.

It was the ominous-looking pistol in his right hand, aimed at her mount.

“You wouldn’t shoot a horse,” she said. “That would be cruel. And mean.”

He shrugged. “Maybe I’m a cruel, mean guy. You willing to bet the life of your horse to find out?”

She thought about everything he’d done since the moment she’d met him. He’d been polite, even when she wasn’t. He’d been nice and, above all, fair. He was bluffing. Had to be. No way was he the type of man who could kill an innocent animal.

Her hands tightened in the mane. She turned back toward the ditch, ready to send Gladiator bounding to the other side.

“He’s a beautiful animal,” Colby taunted. “You sure you want to do this?”

She hesitated. He wouldn’t shoot. Would he? She’d seen his eyes earlier, admiring Gladiator. And for him to have ridden that bay after her, without her hearing him, meant he knew his way around horses. He knew how to guide them on a trail and keep them quiet. Only someone well-acquainted with horses could do that. And someone that comfortable around horses could never do the horrible thing he was threatening to do.