Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 128313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
“Perfect,” I snapped, and went to hang up, when he said, “The Franklin Stud farm in Yorkshire has been hit.” I stopped dead and looked up to find Forrest watching me. All teasing drained from his face. He could tell something was seriously wrong.
“Hit in what way?” I asked.
“Someone injected their stallions with 1-Androsterone. They’ve failed the drug tests for the upcoming Grand Prix, and there was also a break-in where someone tried to get to the weaned foals that were ready for sale. Luckily, they were interrupted and fled before they could. But it’s yet another hit on a stud farm in the past twenty-four months. I’m trying to determine whether the incidents are related, and if they were getting threats beforehand too.”
What the fuck? Forrest had clearly heard Phillip as his lips tightened in anger and concern.
“You think whoever did it could be the same person targeting us?”
“Don’t know, but it’s a possibility,” Phillip said. “The crime has just been reported. I have an in at the police who let me know. It’ll hit the equestrian gossip mill by the end of the day, I’m sure.”
I rubbed my forehead with my hand. “Keep me updated,” I said, and hung up. I would call Phillip back later and put him on Alexis Hobbs’s scent. Something about the shit she said to me had my alarm bells ringing.
“It’s nothing new, Jas,” Forrest said, trying to placate me. “It’s not like we don’t see this often.” And he was right. This shit had been happening to studs for years. Rivalry, jealousy, money . . . It all played a role in this industry. Good studs raked in millions, if not billions of pounds a year. Foul play was common.
I didn’t speak, instead letting what Phillip said add to the burn Alexis had already kindled inside of me. It was laughable—from the outside, the horse world looked gentrified and proper, all perfect manners and class. In truth, it was like a bad reality show, filled with scandals and a whole lot of fucking behind people’s backs.
When we got to the arena, Atticus was on Barnaby. He was midflight over a jump, Steve, the photographer, capturing the motion. We stopped at the perimeter fence. I immediately searched around me and saw Sage and Hallie in the outdoor arena behind us, keeping their horses warm. My lungs seized when I saw Hallie was now dressed in the turquoise set I’d requested her in yesterday. Huxley was wearing the matching saddle pad and ear bonnet, as well as the brushing boots on his legs to keep them safe should he hit a pole. The color was in stark contrast to his dark-brown coat.
And then there was Hallie. She cantered Huxley around the arena, then lined up for the approach. There wasn’t anything I could fault with her seat or technique as she took Hux over the 150 cm fence. In the base layer and riding tights, the clingy material showcased her hourglass figure.
I couldn’t fucking want her.
I couldn’t.
For the second time that day, I was saved from my wayward thoughts by my phone. Tim Franklin from the Franklin Stud was calling.
I walked a few feet away from the arena, seeing Atticus head for the gate. His part of the shoot seemed done for now. “Tim,” I said in greeting.
“We’ve been hit” was all he said. Tim was my dad’s best friend and had been the same age too. His stud in Yorkshire was world renowned. His children were big show jumpers on the circuit—his son, Spencer, had always been one of my rivals since our teens. But we were good friends, as much as two competitors could be.
“What happened?” I said. I knew, of course, but I couldn’t let him know that. Phillip was the best at what he did. I paid him a shit ton of money to keep him working for me. Including keeping things he told me under wraps.
“Anabolics. Performance enhancers on my Grand Prix stallions,” Tim said. I could hear the rasp of devastation on his voice. “The pricks broke in, dismantled my top-of-the-range security system, and injected all my superstars for this season.” Tim sighed. “We interrupted the bastards doing it and scared them off, but the few CCTV cameras they missed only showed men dressed in all black with ski masks hiding their faces.”
The sound of the arena gate opening caught my attention, and I watched Hallie enter the ring.
“Have any leads?” I asked.
“None yet. But I will,” Tim said, as Steve explained what he wanted Hallie to do in the background. The fence for the shoot had Knighton Equestrian fillers on it, my Lord Henry logo plastered on the wings. “I just wanted to give you a heads-up, son,” Tim said. “If there’s someone targeting studs, I wanted to let you know first. Your dad would have done the same for me.”