Page 103 of My High Horse Czar

“Of course I do,” I whisper. “You leave my mother alone, and when I win, you leave me alone too.”

“Yes, but if you don’t win.” He smiles. “Then I own you.”

Quicksilver’s already at the edge of the stall, but his nose shoves against the door and he’s snorting and huffing, his nostrils flared.

“I remember.”

“If you lose, I lose money—quite a lot of money. Nothing makes me quite as angry as losing money.” His head tilts, and he looks me over, from foot to head. “But I’ll have a chance to do something I’ve been dreaming about for a while now.” He’s so unassuming, this small brother of Nojus. He’s so mid—so utterly average. I’m still surprised that someone so regular can be so disgusting. When he lifts his hand and presses one finger against my cheek, dragging it down the side of my face, I’m filled with utter and complete dread.

Quicksilver shoves the door open and bursts through, exploding past me and knocking Mr. Rimkus backward. He lifts one huge hoof and slams it against his chest, barely easing up before shattering Mr. Rimkus’s chest like a melon.

Rimkus coughs and blood splatters all over Quicksilver’s leg. “What the—?”

“Racehorses are known for having bad ground manners.” I should regret what happened—the last thing I need to do is make him angrier.

“Is that Ramunas Rimkus?” There are half a dozen armed policeman, guns raised. They’re gesturing at Nojus’s brother, lying prone under Quicksilver’s hoof.

I nod.

“We have an arrest warrant for him,” the one in front says. “Can you get the horse off him?” The cop looks pretty nervous about Quicksilver, and I don’t blame him.

My stallion looks absolutely insane—mane blowing, nostrils flaring, massive muscles taut.

“I can halter him,” I say.

Quicksilver lets me slide a halter over his face easily, then backs up when I ask, like he’s a lost puppy dog. “What’s he being arrested for?”

“A longer list than you could ever imagine,” the officer says. “We have a confidential informant who just handed a whole pile of evidence over on dozens of men, all of them connected with this guy.” He shrugs. “It’s the most impressive takedown our department has ever had.”

Holding my horse still and steady is simple as they cuff Mr. Rimkus and walk him away. But I notice something on the ground as I’m circling Quicksilver around, and I reach down and grab it.

It’s a claim ticket.

His bet was placed with a cash wire.

Ten million euros with an independent company out of Las Vegas that’s not subject to the same limits.

The odds on Quicksilver, as he’s an unknown, are ridiculous.

I ought to hand this over to the cops, probably, but there’s not a chance I’m doing that.

I can’t help smiling as I work Quicksilver. I should be nervous, but I’m not. There’s not a single horse that can beat us today, and now, it doesn’t matter, even if there is. A weight I didn’t realize I was feeling has been lifted.

I know it was the guys, working to help me and Alexei. I should be annoyed that they stepped in to fix my problem. Old Adriana would have been. Instead, I feel nothing but relief.

Is this what having a family feels like?

The normal pre-race stuff flies by, with both Mirdza and Kris nearby wishing me well. The guys are in place, our plan laid. Grigoriy’s working the perimeter, with Aleksandr sticking near the girls. Kristiana won’t head out on her own until after it’s over and we’re sure that Leonid and his men haven’t shown up.

Yeah, right.

“There’s a chance they won’t bite,” Mirdza says. “They’ve shown up at two different public events, and each time they didn’t catch us. They may skip this one.”

“Then we could move things back to the wedding,” I say.

Mirdza shakes her head. “Kris was so relieved when we nixed that and went back to a small ceremony. I don’t think Aleks would have the heart to go back to it again.”

Quicksilver’s dancing around a little more than usual. I can’t tell whether he wants my attention or he’s just a bit nervous.

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