Page 17 of The Cowboy's Ultimatum

Though it was late and clients had long since left the barn, Erin was still there, but not because of the horses or chores she had to finish. She was waiting for Kenny. Usually she would go to the biker bar where he spent most of his time, but he’d called and told her to wait for him at the stable. She was idly wiping the dust off the shelves in the tack room when she heard the tell-tale roar of his Harley Davidson. Several horses whinnied, others pricked their ears, while some didn’t react at all.

Walking down the barn aisle, she stared through the wide doors and studied him as he came to a stop and climbed off his bike. The leather jacket over his muscled physique made him appear fearsome. And he was! None of his gang would dare cross him, and she was always on edge when they had to meet up. When he removed his helmet and his long, dark, wavy hair fell around his shoulders, she felt the familiar wave of jealousy. Her light sandy hair was thin and had no curl whatsoever. At such times she thought life just wasn’t fair! Lifting a pouch from his saddlebag, he strode towards her, and the familiar ruffle of fear sent goosebumps across her skin.

“So, Erin, how was business this week?”

“Okay, I guess, but you know how I worry. When these women have a few martinis they start gossiping. If they say the wrong thing to the wrong person, or they’re overheard talking about all this, it could—”

“Risk is part of this game,” he exclaimed, cutting her off. “You know that and you knew it when you decided to come on board. But as I’ve told you before, people are inherently afraid of getting caught, just like you are. They don’t stick their necksout, especially not when they have as much to lose as your clients do. But enough about all that bullshit,” he said impatiently as he marched past her and into her small barn office. “Lock the door.”

“Jeez…you don’t have to tell me that,” she muttered under her breath.

“Hey! Enough of your lip! I’m still around because I don’t leave anything to chance. Give me the cash and hand over the account book.”

“Sorry, I’m just on edge. I ran out a couple of days ago and it makes me—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Here,” he grunted, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a tiny vial containing white powder. “Now don’t talk. I need to make sure all this is in order.”

* * *

Above all else, Kenny was a businessman. All he cared about was the bottom line. Contrary to his appearance, the man had been born with two gifts. A brain like a calculator and an athlete’s body.

He’d been told many times he had his pick of sports or finance, perhaps even a combination of the two. But Kenny had also been born with a lust for excitement. Living on the edge was his high, and while he didn’t indulge himself, he’d found his niche in the murky, dangerous waters dealing drugs.

But he didn’t sell to just anyone.

He targeted the wealthy, and by chance he’d found an eager clientele in the high-end barns around Dallas and Fort Worth. From show jumpers to barrel racers, the riders thrived on the thrill of their sport, and cocaine made them fearless…or so he’d been told. Over several careful years, he’d built a network supplying trainers and stable owners. And they were all scared to death of him. Not because of what he might do to them, butthe threats he made against the prized equines living in their facilities.

Erin was on the bottom of the totem pole.

Most of the people he dealt with owned or trained horses worth a great deal of money, enough to buy a new house and a Ferrari or Rolls Royce. He thought of Erin’s clients as the Volvo, condominium crowd. But on the plus side, her barn didn’t invite much scrutiny.

Rarely did anyone try to get the best of him, and an insecure young woman like Erin wouldn’t even consider such a thing, but he always double-checked the books. Sitting at her desk studying the numbers and counting the cash, he found no surprises.

“Good,” he grunted, placing the money into a tin box, then locking it and dropping it into his bag. “Here are your supplies for the next two weeks, both personal and for your clients.”

She’d already snorted the coke he’d given her, and had slumped into a director’s chair against the wall. As he placed two plastic tubs on her desk, she let out a heavy sigh.

“What’s wrong?”

“I want to talk about Helen Ramsey.”

“Okay! Talk!”

“I’m barely scraping by in this place. The costs keep going up. I’ve raised the board, but now my two grooms and the cleaning guy want more money. If I wasn’t dealing for you I’d be closed by now.”

“What’s the point and what does this have to do with Helen?”

“I told you earlier, I was angry and kicked her to the curb, but I can’t afford to lose her. Can you convince her to come back, and not just for one fucking lesson a week. She needs to board here and be in full training. That lesson is peanuts. I only agreed because I saw it as a way to break the ice. I’d planned to persuade her to make a proper commitment.”

“Sorry, doll face, I have my own plans for that girl, and I’m not going to complicate things. But a guy I know is dating a girl who rides jumpers. He was complaining the other night that he’s sick of hearing about all her barn problems. I don’t know him very well, but I don’t mind telling him about you. Give me your card and I’ll pass it along.”

“Yeah? That would be great. Thanks, Kenny.”

“And next time you run short, call me,” he said sternly, as if scolding a child. “You don’t want to lose any more clients because you’re fried. That’s not good for either of us. Clear?”

“Yes, Kenny, you’re right. I will.”

Rising from his chair, he strode from the office, marched down the barn aisle and out to his Harley. As he slipped on his helmet a frown crossed his brow. Erin’s personal consumption had gone up. Not unusual, but he’d need to keep an eye on her.

---