Clark nodded. “She needs to know. I’ve called her over a half dozen times and told her I needed to speak to her. Crickets.”
“She’s been busy.”
He leaned forward, again lowering his voice. “I think she needs to know what she’s up against. When I heard that the authorities declared Reid’s death an accident, my first thought was ‘fuck, those motherfuckers got away with it.’”
“Maybe I’ll tell her to return your phone calls.”
Clark scoffed. “If I told Vee to turn left, she would turn right. If you can make her do…well, fuck…anything, like return my call, I’m both impressed and a bit emasculated.” He finished off his second drink. “Assume that on some slim chance that my story is accurate. Somehow, they offed Reid. Who’s standing in the way of Darin and Grant getting what they believe should have been theirs?”
“Vee.”
“I’ve spent the last two years playing nice with Grant. He thinks we’re cohorts. He doesn’t see himself the way my father does. What Grant also doesn’t realize is that the thoroughbred business is cutthroat and dirty. Fuck, maimed stallions and unlived jockeys is only the tip of the iceberg. We deal in the business of buying and selling. Fusaichi Pegasus, the 2000 Kentucky Derby winner, sold for $70 million dollars. Football doesn’t have the monopoly on shady business deals.
“I didn’t watch what was happening in the background of the Coopers with Vee’s glasses or glitter.” He nodded. “The filth and double crosses are there. Watch for it and for fuck’s sake, watch Vee. If she’s not careful, she’ll be the next one to have an accident.”
His last sentence stung.
“She had one,” I said slowly. “She had an accident.”
Clark nodded. “I saw the shiner the night I came to her place.” Again, he lifted an eyebrow. “Are they sure that was an accident?”
“Vee is. There were reporters outside her father’s estate...”
Clark shook his head. “Like I said in my text message, I would feel better if it was me with Vee. I know the depths people will sink into depravity when they want something—think they deserve something. Vee sees a glass half full. She needs to start seeing it half empty.” He looked at the watch on his wrist, one that probably cost more than a small country. “Tell Vee. As for anyone else, we didn’t meet. I didn’t tell you anything.”
“I don’t do high school games, Clark. Cloak-and-dagger isn’t my thing. I also won’t lie.”
“If only this were high school. It’s a lot deadlier. Ask Reid.” He reached inside his sport coat and removed a money clip. He peeled a one-hundred-dollar bill from it. “I’ve been invited to dinner. I’m keeping up the charade.”
“Charade?”
“Cohorts.”
I quirked a brow. “With…?”
“Grant Marsh and Daphne Hubbard.”
“They invited you?” I asked.
“On second thought, Graham, walk away. At this point I’m not sure if it’s possible to escape once they have their claws in you.”
“Why are you in their claws? What did they do for you?”
“It was the other way around. You know, no good deed goes unpunished.” He stood and adjusted his sports coat. “Convince Vee to walk away with you. It’s her only hope. I’d fucking hate to think of her spending her forever with you, but it’s better than her not having forever.”
Clark took the hundred-dollar bill to the bartender and laid it on the bar. Without another word, he walked away.
Bizarre.
That was the only word I could use to describe what had just happened.
For a few minutes, I sat dazed, everything Preston Clark said racing through my thoughts. The item that kept making its way to the top of my list of concerns was not a thing but a person. Vee. Memories of Bre Stanton being taken away returned. Clark said he thought she was innocent.
None of this made sense.
What was the evidence against Bre?
A new thought came to mind. I heard what Bre said to Vee before she was taken away. She said she was pregnant. Vee confirmed it later last night when we were alone. If there was any chance that Clark’s story was real, Bre’s child would also be an obstacle interfering with Darin and Grant’s goal.
