Page 33 of Taming Mika

Relief washes through me as Mika says something logical. I think she’s coming out of the worst of her shock. “Good.” I glance back at Vincent once more. “Get the chopper back here as soon as you can. I’m taking Mika home.”

“No, I need to take care of the horses,” she insists, grabbing my arm.

“And you can do that once this Joel hauls them back to the stables. In the meantime, you’ll have to endure making agrand entrancewith me,” I tease, emphasizing the words Mika used to describe my helicopter.

She snorts a shaky laugh, and I smile, glad to see her humor intact. She digs her phone out of her pocket as I hover protectively, and Mika makes her call, arranging transport for the horses. Then she hangs up and braces her hands on her knees to stand. I tighten my arm around her waist, rising with her. I’m not quite ready to let her go, and I don’t trust that she won’t keel over.

“I’m okay, Alfie. Really,” Mika insists, this time sounding more sure of herself. She squeezes my shoulder, and as fresh color blossoms in her face, I’m relieved. She’s looking more normal now—and she doesn’t seem to have any lingering desire to avoid me.

“I know you are,” I tell her sincerely. “That doesn’t mean I’m ready to let you go.” I can still feel a slight tremor in her fingers as she grips my arm, which means I won’t be giving her any personal space until I’m good and comfortable with her stability.

A beautiful flush stains her cheeks, and Mika glances toward the barn hands, but they’re too busy taking care of the horses to notice us. An hour later, Joel, the transporter, is pulling up with his shiny silver trailer and tractor truck. The transport vehicle looks large enough to haul twice as many horses as we have, and the driver steps down onto the running board before he drops to the ground.

“Thanks for coming so last minute, Joel,” Mika says, offering him one of her rare genuine smiles as she shakes his hand.

“Anytime. You know that.” He tips his ball cap and flashes Mika a smile.

A spike of territorial jealousy lances through my chest, and my hand tightens instinctively around Mika’s arm. I’ve been holding it to make sure she doesn’t topple over, but now I’m ready to pull her away from the transporter and back into my arms. Joel’s eyes catch the subtle gesture, and his head cocks—a clear sign that he’s not a hundred percent sure where he knows me from. I’m more than happy to enlighten him.

“Yes, thank you, Joel,” I echo, stepping forward to offer him my hand as well while I wrap an arm more possessively around Mika’s waist. “Alfie Bonetti. I’m the proud new owner of the barn where Mika trains.”

Joel’s eyes widen as he seems to recognize my name. “A, um—” He clears his throat nervously. “A pleasure to meet you, sir,” he finishes with a polite nod. “And no need to thank me. This is my job.” An anxious laugh bubbles up from his chest, and he gives a nervous nod. “I’ll just get those horses loaded up,” he adds, then he makes a beeline for the back of his trailer.

I can feel Mika’s eyes on me as I watch the transporter calmly. “Am I the only person who didn’t already know you’re a dangerous person?” she asks.

“What do you mean?” I tease, glancing down at her.

“Everyone else seems reluctant to touch you with a ten-foot pole.”

Chuckling, I trap her chin between my fingers. “Too bad I might not let you get that far away from me again.”

A shudder ripples down Mika’s body, and once more, I’m left wondering if it might not be a response to the thought of being near me.

18

MIKA

Only after I’m confident the horses are safely on their way back upstate do I let Alfie usher me to his helicopter. The ride back to the stables is a thrill I didn’t quite expect, but I’ve never seen New York from the air like that, so I savor the view, watching the greenery pass below. I catch sight of the twisting roads that wind between the larger towns, and I wonder if any of the trailers we pass might be Joel’s.

When we land on the new helipad, I’m glad to be home. His increased number of security men are on high alert as we arrive, and they pick us up in a big black SUV that reminds me of the armored cars mafia bosses use on TV. Not that I’m complaining—I’ve had enough brushes with death for one day. At my insistence, they take us to the barn. The racehorses won’t arrive for another half hour, but it feels good to be back in familiar territory, and the horses that are present comfort my frayed nerves. Here, none of them seem stirred up and restless, eager to get away from some unknown danger I can’t sense.

Joel pulls up the long gravel driveway a short time later, parking in the open lot to unload. He’s a young guy, in his early twenties, with sandy-blond hair and blue eyes. He has a magic way with horses—I’ve never seen a horse give him trouble loading, and he always delivers them safely. I’m grateful for him tonight especially, as he gets the horses into their stalls in record time. Then he’s off, giving me a polite salute from the door of his truck before he departs.

“You ready?” Alfie asks in a low voice.

“For what?” My stomach tightens, and I’m intensely aware of the arm he hasn’t removed from around my waist since my vision started to tunnel back at the Saratoga racetrack. He hasn’t left my side since our encounter with Nikolai Kapranov. His protective concern is a stark contrast to our heated exchange in the tack room. Though it does echo his words about taking responsibility for my protection, and that same possessive dominance lingers in his touch. He hovers, handling me as if he thinks I might shatter but is unwilling to give me space. I’m still not sure if I’m grateful for his presence or if it’s terrifying. All I know is that the world I woke up in this morning is not the same one I’m currently facing.

“To call it a day,” he says playfully, grinning.

“I want to check in on Fate first.” I have a lot to be thankful for after today, and she’s at the very top of my list.

Alfie hums his amusement, but then he just gestures for me to lead the way. I do, entering the quiet peacefulness of the barn and heading to Fate’s stall. I decided to keep all the horses from today’s race inside overnight to make sure everyone’s alright. Fate nickers softly as I slide her stall door open and step inside. Alfie stays at Fate’s doorway, seeming willing to give me a limited amount of space while I’m with her, though he keeps a watchful eye. That same contented calm surrounds the filly that she usually has after a successful race. It’s good to know she’s back to herself as well.

“You did good today, girl,” I murmur, approaching slowly.

She lets me run my hands up her soft muzzle and over her eyes, and she steps forward to press her nose against my belly. I take a moment to connect with her, to let her feel my gratitude for what she did. Her satin fur shines in the cool evening light, and she accepts the affection, soaking up the attention. When I’ve shown her my appreciation,I dig a carrot from my pocket and feed it to her, then I head back out of her stall so she can get some rest.

“Done?” Alfie asks.

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