Page 9 of Savage Reins
"I'll be back after lunch," I tell her.
"Where are you going?"
"Anton and Boris should be here soon. I need to brief them and set up monitoring positions."
She nods and heads toward the house. I watch her walk away, noting the confidence in her stride and the straightness of her shoulders. She carries herself without apology, even in clothes that have seen better days and boots held together with duct tape.
The thought that surfaces next catches me off guard. I wonder if she knows how men in my position usually deal with women who want something this badly. How easy it would be to use her desperation as leverage. To demand favors in exchange for cooperation. To take advantage of the fire I see burning behind her eyes.
The idea should appeal to me. I've used fear and need to get what I wanted before. It's effective, efficient, and completely within the bounds of how the Vetrov family operates.
But the thought of cornering Mira, of seeing that fierce determination turn to resignation or disgust, makes my stomach turn. She's fighting for something she believes in, not just forherself but for her father and their shared history. There's honor in that, even if the circumstances are ugly.
I shake my head and walk back toward the bunkhouse. Sentiment is dangerous in this business. It gets people killed and jobs left unfinished. I need to focus on results, not on whether I respect the people I'm dealing with.
Anton's truck pulls up the drive as I reach the bunkhouse. He and Boris climb out, carrying duffel bags and a case of surveillance equipment. The men are solid, reliable, and completely lacking in imagination, which makes them perfect for this kind of work.
"What's the situation?" Anton asks.
"Family's got thirty days to train a racehorse. If it wins, they live. If it doesn't…"
"We torch the place," Boris finishes.
"Exactly. I need you watching all approaches to the property. Anyone tries to leave, you stop them. Anyone tries to interfere with the training, you deal with it."
"What about the family?"
"Let them work. But keep your distance. The girl's already suspicious, and the old man's jumpy."
We spend an hour setting up positions and communication protocols. Anton takes the front gate, Boris covers the back road, and I maintain overwatch from the bunkhouse. The setup is simple but effective for our needs.
As we finish, a black sedan turns into the drive. My blood chills when I recognize the car as Vadim's. I haven't yet cleared my plan through him and I don't think he's going to be happy with it. Offering Mira time to train a new horse is mercy, and my family isn't really big on that sort of thing. If I spin it like a business transaction, I'm sure he'll listen, but it's up to me to sell it now.
"Stay here and keep watch," I tell Anton and Boris. "This is family business."
I walk behind the barn to intercept Vadim before he reaches the house. He's already out of the car, his expensive suit immaculate despite the dust and heat. His face carries the expression I've learned to fear—cold fury barely held in check.
"Explain to me," he says without preamble, "why this barn is still standing."
"The situation required adjustment."
"The situation required fire and gasoline. Instead, I drive out here and find you playing horse trainer with the people who cost us money."
I keep my voice level, professional. "The mare has potential. Real potential. If she wins, we don't just settle the debt with the Karpins—we preserve valuable breeding and training assets."
"And if she loses?"
"Then we step aside and let the Karpins burn it down themselves. They get their revenge, we get the land, and our hands stay clean."
Vadim stares at me for a long moment. I can see him calculating odds, weighing risks against potential gains. The Vetrov family didn't build their empire by being reckless, but they also didn't build it by being overly cautious.
"This horse had better be worth the risk," he says finally.
"She is."
"For your sake, Renat, I hope you're right. Because if this goes wrong, you'll be explaining it to Rolan personally."
The mention of thePakhansends ice through my veins. Rolan Vetrov doesn't tolerate failure, especially when it costs the family money or reputation.
