Page 56 of The Front Runner
Her eyes roll. “The one with the shoes.” She points down at her feet. “Who was leaving on Monday morning?”
Her eyes dart behind me, and I turn to look at what she’s signaling toward. Juliette Monroe. If Mira’s assumption wasn’t so absurd, I would laugh out loud. I stare back down at her fierce face. “Jules is mylawyer.”
“Your… lawyer.” She takes a huge swig of her beer and shakes her head as she looks out across the room. “You fucking idiot,” she whispers to herself as her cheeks flare to match her dress. Although part of me wants to laugh, the other part wants to shake her.
I step in close to clear a few things up about us. About me and my intentions where she’s concerned, but I’m cut off by one of the most annoying voices in the world.
“Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in. How’s the off-season treating you, Dalca?”
I take a deep breath, eyes flitting to Mira’s. She looks uncertain, but now it’s go time. I turn and take one step ahead of her, trying to keep Patrick as far away from her as possible.
I smile, but it doesn’t touch my eyes. This is the face I mastered as a child. “Patrick. Life is good. How are you?”
Patrick grins. His teeth are too white, and his hair too greasy. I can’t for the life of me remember why I hired him. A winning record, I guess.Too winning.I’ve beat myself up about that enough.
Now I know what kind of man Patrick is, and I have no intention of letting him get away with it.
“Just great. Living the dream. Riding much nicer horses than yours these days. Guys like us always land on our feet. You bangin’ the vet now?” He nods at Mira and grins at me, like he’s begging for me to give him a nosebleed the old-fashioned way. A nice bump to match my own.
Mira moves beside me, her face calm and her head tilted at him like she’s sizing him up and finds him entirely lacking. Condescension drips off her in waves. “Did you know that I can castrate a pig just as easily as a horse, Patrick? Even a little one like you.”
Now there’s something I’d like to see.I glance behind myself at where I saw Jules chatting someone up before. She’s already looking in my direction and nods once.
I smile, except this time it’s real. I’m going to enjoy this.
“Who areguys like us, Patrick?”
He chuckles like I’m being intentionally obtuse, but the truth is I hate the idea of being lumped with men like Patrick. It makes my skin crawl.
I roll my shoulders back and tug at the cuff links on my shirt before staring down my nose at the man. “I’ve often thought the best way to judge a man is by his actions rather than his words.” Patrick’s eyebrows knit together as people around us start to watch. “You talk like you’ve got it all. But the fact of the matter is you harass women with unwanted advances and drug horses to keep yourself in the winner’s circle.” His face goes white, and Mira’s head snaps toward me.
Hushed murmurs break out around us. These people thrive on drama, and I’m about to feed the beast.
“Get a grip, Dalca.” His tone goes frigid and his watery eyes narrow, taking on a vicious facial expression.
“You’re a disease, Patrick. A blight. And I’ve got all the documentation to prove it.” A couple of officers appear from a back hallway. Just how Jules and I planned it. “You drug my horses, you face the music.”
He sputters but is cut off by the officer stepping in front of him. “Patrick Cassel?”
The officer explains the situation to him, reading his rights, suggesting an attorney. Probably a good plan. I’m going to love wasting my stepfather’s money on burying this rat.
Patrick looks grim. White as a sheet. And then spitting mad when he meets my eyes. “This isn’t over, Dalca.”
“I trust it’s not.” I slide my hands into my pockets and smirk. “I’m just getting started with ruining you.”
Patrick turns beet red as the officers lead him away in a shiny set of cuffs. They suit him so well.
“Unbelievable,” Mira murmurs, mouth hanging open. “I was right?” She places her drink on a tall cocktail table and walks after him toward a darkened hallway at the back of the ballroom. A neon emergency exit sign lights the door at the very end of it. She looks stunned, entranced.
“You going to go to the station with him?” I joke. “Never took you for a rubbernecker.”
“Are you kidding me?” She keeps walking down the hall, head craned to listen to the excuses falling from Patrick’s twisted tongue. “You think I signed up for blood and gore as a career without being a rubbernecker? This is too fucking good. You don’t even know how hard I’m trying to refrain from pulling my phone out to record. This isgold.I want to remember this night for the rest of my life. Best date ever.”
When the door slams shut behind them, she flops against the wall with a satisfied sigh. And I don’t miss that she didn’t call it afakedate this time. “How did you pull this off?”
I smirk and puff my chest out, feeling proud of myself for how smoothly that went off. “The day you told me your suspicions, I had another vet draw blood from each horse I had living down at Bell Point Park. When they came back positive for performance enhancing steroids, I hired a PI to find me the proof.”
“Why didn’t you have me do the tests? I could have helped!”
