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“Evaluative ones. Genetic testing. Vista is assessing for strength, endurance—all the qualities that make an Olympic champion.”
Blake frowned. “How does a tissue sample tell him that?”
“How the hell should I know?” Edward waved his arm in the air. “I’m not a scientist. That’s why I pay him. All I know is he’s working to find the best genetic combination—my mares and to-be-determined stallions. My goal is for him to perform inseminations that result in entries like Stolen Thunder. To secure James’s future, and Kerri’s.”
Some truth. Some glaring omissions.
Blake still wasn’t buying.
“If that’s the case, then why the secrecy?” he demanded.
“There is no secrecy. There’s just protecting my interests, and staying ahead of the competition. Vista’s doing cutting-edge research. I don’t want that information leaking out so some richer bastard can buy him out from under me and beat me to the punch. And the last thing I need is some altruistic veterinarian interfering because Vista’s methods offend her principles.”
“It’s not about principles,” Blake responded carefully, studying his grandfather’s expression. “It’s about medical ethics. And potential illegalities. The drugs in Vista’s cabinets are—let’s say, unusual.”
“How would you know?”
“I wouldn’t. Devon would. She didn’t recognize the labels.”
Twin splotches of red stained Edward’s cheeks. “She went through Vista’s cabinets?”
“Briefly. He stopped her.”
“Big surprise. He’s got to be ripping mad. I’m sure he’ll be calling soon to read me the riot act. I’m lucky if he doesn’t quit.” Edward dragged a palm over his face and glared at his grandson. “Don’t screw this up for me, Blake. Not now.”
Blake bit back his reply. Time to stop. He’d exposed enough of his hand. His grandfather wasn’t going to fill the gaping holes or explain the flagrant inconsistencies. That would have to come from elsewhere.
“Fine,” he said tightly. “I won’t interfere.”
“And your girlfriend?”
“What about her?”
Edward rose slowly. “Keep her out of this, Blake. I mean it. Get her to back off. Or I will.”
That brought Blake’s head up. “Are you threatening Devon?”
“I’m securing my family’s future.” Edward’s eyes were blazing. “You know that nothing stands in the way of that. Not for me. Vista’s research is going to make Pierson one of the most prominent names in equestrian competition. That, along with Pierson & Company, is my legacy—one I mean to provide. I won’t tolerate outside interference. So divert Devon Montgomery’s attention elsewhere.” A piercing stare. “That should be easy enough. You’re sleeping with her. Take her to bed, and keep her there. Now let’s go. Your grandmother’s waiting.”
He yanked open the door and stalked out of the office.
IF COCKTAILS HAD been a frosty affair, dinner was positively glacial.
Devon choked down each morsel, grateful that Cassidy was there to offset the deafening silence. Other than the snippets of conversation the two of them shared, the dinner consisted of clinking china and blatant noncommunication. Edward’s contribution to the meal was an occasional instruction barked at the kitchen staff. Anne sliced her food deliberately, chewing small mouthfuls and darting censuring looks at Devon. James drank more than he ate, toying with his food while lost in moody introspection. Louise slanted assessing glances from Devon to Blake and back again. As for Blake, he was seething. He’d been that way since he’d walked out of his grandfather’s office. Devon was dying to hear what he’d found out. But that had to wait till they were alone.
She was beyond relieved when they finally said their good nights and drove to her mother’s house.
“Tell me what happened,” she said, turning to him in the car.
“Not what I expected.” Succinctly, Blake laid out what his grandfather had told him.
Devon frowned. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“You’re right. It doesn’t. I’m just not sure how much culpability lies directly with my grandfather, and how much lies in some cover-up for James. I keep remembering how extreme Vista’s reaction was when I brought James up.”
“He sounded too personally invested in James’s career, that’s for sure. As for what your grandfather said, it doesn’t explain why Vista’s trailer is so weighted down. Or why he’s so paranoid. Plus, I don’t buy the whole biopsies for genetic assessment. They’re mating horses, not cloning them.” Mentally, Devon consolidated everything Blake had said with what they’d learned from their showdown with Vista. “We’ve got a slew of question marks. I’d be willing to bet our answers lie behind that curtain in Vista’s trailer.”
“Maybe.” Blake pulled into the driveway leading to Sally’s house. “But you’re not going to be the one finding out. My grandfather made it crystal clear that any further involvement on your part wouldn’t be in your best interests.”
