Page 50 of Homicide in Water Creek

King practically tripped over his own feet as he came to a stop. “I’m sorry, equine therapy?” She nodded. “Like physical therapy?”

“Or emotional,” she said, staring down the path, watching for movement while avoiding his gaze.

“I never looked into what Tobi does on the ranch beyond what Joe has mentioned. Don’t you need special licenses for that?”

“No, because I’ll only be breeding and training the horses. Once they’re ready for riders, I’ll sell them to the ranches who offer therapy to children and adults who have experienced domestic situations or who have PTSD, for example.”

“And sexual assault victims?” he asked, as her gaze drifted to his.

“Maybe,” she agreed, still not making eye contact. “It’s hard for these ranches to train horses and provide therapy, so having already-trained horses takes a lot off their shoulders.”

“You’ve always loved breeding horses, but I didn’t expect this to come of it.”

“I couldn’t see the point of surviving all of this if I didn’t do something to help someone in the same place, King. I look at these scars every day and feel alone in what I went through. The horses help me remember that I’m not. There are others out there in the same boat, so if I’m breathing, I should be doing something to help them. Since I was nine, I believed everything that happened was my fault. My leg was messed up, and that was my fault. My mom got tired of taking care of me and that was my fault. My granddaddy got stuck with me. That was my fault. I’ve blamed myself for everything that’s happened in my life, even though none of it was my fault. It was the damn hand I was dealt, and I could play the cards or fold and walk away from the table. When I was lying there, bleeding out in the woods, I refused to fold and walk away from the table, King. I was holding four of a kind. I wanted to play them.”

“Let me guess,” he whispered, cupping her face in his hands. “You had four Jacks. What was the fifth card?”

“A damn king.”

The words were barely out of her mouth when he pressed his lips to hers for a heartbeat, just as her phone beeped. She grabbed it. “He’s working his way to the back of the bar,” she read. “We’d better hurry.”

Putting everything else aside, they took the path past the arena toward Jackson’s house until her phone beeped again. Jacks read the message as they kept moving. “Keene was outside, hiding. He saw him head back on the path.”

“That gives us plenty of time to get into position. I’ll keep you safe, as long as you don’t question my orders.”

“In other words, don’t let my sass compromise my safety.”

He winked as they neared the spot where they’d hunker down and wait for Chinos. “I love your sass, but I also love you alive.”

When they moved into position, she noticed the look in his eyes. He was afraid of losing her, so she vowed not to take any unnecessary risks. Her life was coming together, and she refused to let a guy like Chinos steal it all away.

Chapter Twenty-One

King waited, primed to step out of the dark as soon as Chinos reached the front porch, but Jacks grabbed his arm. “Wait. Let’s give him time to get into the house. He knows Granddaddy doesn’t lock it. Since we know he won’t find anything, let him search. We’ll stop him on the way out.”

His gut told him to hear Jacks out, so he took a deep breath through his nose to quell his impatience. “Tell me why.”

“You said he needed to have something for his boss tomorrow, right?” she whispered, and he nodded. “When he makes that call to his boss, wouldn’t you rather hear what he knows?”

“He won’t know anything. There’s nothing in the house.”

Jacks ran her hand through her hair in frustration. “It’s just a gut feeling. Stop him on the way out.”

“Okay, we’ll do it your way,” he said as Chinos walked up the stairs, his head darting left and right before he opened the door and walked in. They hid by the machine shed and watched his flashlight bob through the house. “What if he’s planting a bug in there? Or a camera?”

“It’s too late for that, King. If he was going to do it, he would have done it weeks ago. No, he’s desperate tonight and needs to come up with something to give his boss. He knows the papers aren’t at the office, so this is his last chance. When he comes up empty, he’ll have to call his boss. Maybe we can listen in. Work the case, Sheriff King. Don’t assume anything. Don’t overlook anything. Don’t trust anyone.”

He closed his eyes for a beat, then opened them again and took her hand. “I trust you. That’s the only reason we’re standing here while someone invades your granddaddy’s privacy.”

The flashlight moved toward the back of the house. “He’s in the bedrooms and the den. Let’s be ready to intercept him when he comes out.”

King leaned against the shed, biting his lip, waiting, watching, and keeping track of every sound and every flash of light in the house. It was just under five minutes when the flashlight bobbed back toward the kitchen.

“He’s coming out. Let’s start walking nonchalantly, as if we just returned from town,” he said, taking her hand. They made no sound until he heard the door open and Chinos took the three steps down to the ground.

Laughing hysterically, King hugged Jacks. “That’s hilarious. I would have loved to have seen his face—” Noticing Chinos frozen in place, King lunged and grabbed his jacket. “Hey, what are you doing here? Aren’t you from the rodeo school?”

Chinos’s eyes flicked between them as his mouth opened and closed twice. “I was at the bar when Jackson asked me to check on the house. He said they’d been having trouble with kids lately.”