Page 33 of The Black Trilogy

“I’ll make sure she gets as much time off as she needs,” Luke said. “Tia hardly rides her, anyway.”

I bandaged Samara’s legs up, and she walked straight into the horsebox, eager to get away from the vet. I couldn’t blame her. Being a pincushion was no fun.

“That’s the best news we could have hoped for,” I said as we drove back to Hazelwood Farm.

“I know. If you see Tia doing anything she isn’t supposed to, will you call me? I’ll deal with her.”

“Sure.”

I didn’t tell him I’d stop his darling sister myself if she risked hurting Samara.

The horse was still dopey when I led her back to her stable at the farm, and I made sure she had hay and plenty of water before I went back out to Luke.

“Thanks for today,” he said.

“It’s my job.”

“I guess.” He shifted from foot to foot.

“Don’t worry about the lorry. I’ll clean out the back. I’m sure you’ve got enough to do at the office.”

“Thanks.”

Cue slight awkwardness as he stepped forward and pulled me into a hug. What should I do with my hands? I rested them on his back, curled into tense little fists, as he kissed the top of my head.

“See you soon,” he muttered.

He didn’t look back as he walked to his car, but I could still feel his arms around me. Why so touchy-feely? Was that just his manner?

Normally, my reputation preceded me, and men gave me a wide berth. How odd for Luke to presume I’d be okay with his affections.

Odd, but not unpleasant. I wasn’t sure what to make of that.

I bought a packet of decent coffee in case Luke turned up the following Saturday, but there was no sign of him.

Portia came by herself, dropped off by a polished-looking woman driving a Mercedes. Perfectly coiffed blonde hair that didn’t move despite the wind, a tight forehead, that air of superiority that only came with years of practice. Mrs. Halston-Cain, I presumed.

Portia seemed subdued, so at least my poor ears got a break as she groomed Samara. I thought maybe she’d finally grown some compassion, but then I overheard her talking to Arabella. Apparently, Luke had told Portia she had to spend time with Samara as well as her other two horses if she wanted him to pay her livery bill.

As I picked up a broom, I couldn’t help wishing Luke had come along. I told myself it was because of the sweeping, but the truth was, I’d enjoyed his company. It had been refreshing to talk to someone with no preconceived notions of me, someone whose eyes didn’t flicker with fear when they heard my name. Luke treated me like a normal person.

I was just going back to the trailer for my lunch when the postman wandered onto the yard.

“Got a parcel for Ashlyn Hale. Know who she is?”

“That’s me.”

He got me to scribble my pretend signature on his electronic pad even as hairs prickled on the back of my neck, then handed the box over.

What was it? I hadn’t ordered anything. It didn’t feel heavy, and the return address was a PO box in Cambridge. Cambridge… Cambridge… I’d killed a man in Cambridge once, a Saudi arms dealer who’d come to visit his old alma mater. But I’d made that look like an accident. No, I quickly ruled out a connection.

Back home, an unexpected parcel would go straight to the lab for testing before I contemplated opening it, but here I didn’t have that luxury.

Instead, I used the old-fashioned method and shook it. It didn’t rattle.

After staring at it in my trailer for ten minutes, curiosity got the better of me and I slit the tape. It didn’t explode. Okay, that was a good start.

I opened the cardboard box then peeled back a layer of tissue paper. What the…? I held the garment up. A jacket. A top-of-the-range windproof jacket, dark purple with a black collar.

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