Page 3 of Dangerous Stakes

The next few days were a blur. The test results were conclusive; Poseidon had been drugged. The eyes of the world turned to him. Even when one of the owners broke down and confessed, it seemed the public that had once adored Rory had turned against him and refused to be turned back.

The Irish team captain pleaded there was no way either the team or Rory had known. In the end the Committee stripped Rory and the team of the gold medal. He had gone from media darling to disgraced dupe in less than a week. A man whose future had once seemed boundless was destroyed in the blink of an eye.

Even more than the disgrace of having the medal stripped away and being barred from international competition was that people who had known him for more than a decade would no longer talk to him. Talk? Hell, they wouldn’t even look at him. People he’d long considered friends turned their backs and then spoke to the media about how they felt he had cheated them, as well. No one would return his calls. It was clear that his career as an international competitor in dressage was over.

CHAPTER 2

Several Days Later

He returned to his small home on the training farm on the coast of Galway. The land and the facility were located on the estate of the local lord. Rory had spent a lot of time and energy improving it so what had once been a derelict barn and cottage, were now in pristine condition and had been featured in several equestrian magazines. He pulled up to the front of the house and grabbed his duffel bag. The trip home had been a nightmare.

As Rory approached the door, he noticed a slip of paper attached to it with a single nail. The note was flapping in the evening breeze, and he held it down so he could read it. It explained that he was barred from the barns and horses and had thirty days to vacate the cottage.

Gone were all of his clients, his home, his hopes, and his dreams. All destroyed because of the greed of one man. A man who’d taken the easy way out by putting a gun in his mouth and pulling the trigger, leaving Rory alone to deal with the disgrace and the aftermath.

The clock struck midnight and the call of the night tugged at his soul. It had been years since he’d allowed himself to shift and vanish into the darkness as a powerful black panther. The farm and his cottage had always been remote, but since his disgrace no one had bothered to even call to check up on him, much less visit.

Rory stood still in the silence of his dwelling, the only sounds were those of the ocean lapping at the cliffs below. He searched the darkest corners of his mind and found the great cat lying there, waiting. Rory tried calling to him as he had as a child, but the beast only rose and paced back and forth. Rory called again, opening his heart and mind and swearing to never abandon that part of himself again.

The enormous panther charged, leaping at him and joining with Rory as a maelstrom of color, light, and power swirled all around him. Rory laughed. He’d forgotten the erotic energy that surged through his being as he became the great beast of legends. As the mist fell away, he looked down to see black paws and felt his tail swish back and forth.

After several failed attempts, Rory was able to open the door and emerge into the night. All of his senses were on high alert—not that he felt threatened, but because he was unaccustomed to feeling them with such intensity. His night vision was amazing, but the sounds and smells of the ocean and fertile soil assailed him. The grass underneath his feet felt like the most decadent carpet.

It took a bit of experimentation to remember how to move with grace and agility, but much like riding a horse, even after so long, it all came back. Rory galloped along the edge of the cliff that rose up from the sea until he found the path that led down to the small slip of sand where he had once conditioned his mounts.

He pushed the negative thoughts away and concentrated on the power and strength that seemed to be returning, not only to his body, but to his heart and soul as well. Gone were the dreams of Olympic glory and international acclaim. But there was a peace and clarity that now filled his mind.

Rory ran along the sand and splashed through the waves, enjoying the fact that his thick fur kept the body-numbing cold at bay. He ran with wild abandon, changing directions and pouncing on anything that moved—even if it was just the shadows of the moon. Finally, exhausted, he fell on the soft sand, rolling around to dry himself. One dream was gone… he would find another.

That night, for the first time since his night with Sofie, his sleep was undisturbed. He woke refreshed and clear headed. The fact that he’d shifted as opposed to downing a bottle of whiskey probably helped with that. He sat down and began to look at what he had to work with.

He’d won numerous prestigious events and had guarded his money wisely. While it was clear he was a pariah in Ireland, Great Britain, and Europe, it had long been believed that for many of the Irish, America was the land of opportunity.

For many years he’d harbored a secret dream to return to America, perhaps to repair his damaged relationship with his older brother Killian, and to create his own training facility. He realized he wouldn’t be able to start with the caliber of horses he was used to, but maybe Killian would be able to give him some of the ones who’d failed as racers. Rory felt sure he could make a living doing something he loved.

After landing in America, Killian had accepted him back into the fold but cautioned him to keep his distance as Killian was now a “made man” amongst the Irish mafia bosses. Rory found work at a local track exercising racehorses and riding one of the track lead ponies to take the thoroughbreds to the starting gate.

Most people didn’t recognize him, and at Killian’s urging and with his blessing, he disavowed any connection to Killian. Rory worked hard, saved his money, and waited to reapply for his American citizenship. After all, he had been born in America and had only left because his mother had left New York for Dublin shortly after divorcing Killian’s father. She had remarried an Irish cop shortly after returning.

He had been born in America, but when he’d become an adult, he’d been forced to choose between America and Ireland or pay for the privilege of dual citizenship. The day he was sworn back in as a U.S. citizen was the only thing that had rivaled standing on the Olympic medal stand.

Rory’s next milestone was when he was able to quit his job at the track and purchase an abandoned and run-down farm just south of the Capitol. Rory had kept his eye on it for some time and was able to make a good deal. The stone farmhouse was two hundred years old and in deplorable condition. Many of the critters that lived there – raccoons, foxes, spiders, skunks, etc., were none too happy when he shooed them out and blocked their re-entry.

The next two years were spent working as a foaling manager for a large breeding farm close by and working on his own facility, Second Chance Farms—a nod to both what had gone before and his family’s farm in upstate New York, Second Star Farms. The isolated location of Second Chance Farms allowed Rory to shift and run free as a black panther without any real fear of being discovered. If someone managed to see him, the sighting was written off as urban legend.

He started out boarding horses as well as supplementing his income buying, rehabbing, training, and selling horses. At first his clients were those boarders looking for either an additional horse, or a step-up. Rory garnered a reputation for being honest and offering good horses for a fair price. Every dime he earned went back into his farm.

Some of the horses he bought, he turned into good schooling horses for riders of all ages and experience. He improved the barn and built a small indoor arena, offering boarding and lessons to the wealthy patrons in the surrounding area. The clients who had been with him spoke openly of his talent and honesty and were quick to point out that in the end, the Olympic Committee had been forced to admit that neither he nor the Irish team had played any part in drugging Poseidon.

Some of his newer clientele were aware of his background and leery at first, but he proved himself in their eyes. Both horses and humans flourished under his tutelage. They found him to be an excellent instructor who demanded the best of his students … in and out of the ring. He distanced himself from his playboy reputation, making it clear he had no time for anything of a sexual nature, taking care of his own needs as best he could.

The children entrusted to him were treated with great care and respect. He quickly became part big brother, part riding instructor and part taskmaster. Little by little, Rory was able to bring along those who had talent, helping their parents find affordable horses that could compete with the big name, big money horses.

Second Chance Farms became known as a no-drama, happy and safe place to board a horse and hone your skills. Clients and employees both began to consider it a second home, and Rory set up a study area for the kids who rode with him. One of the mothers was a retired teacher and the kids’ grades began to rise alongside their riding scores.

When his students began to do well on the national circuit, there had been an attempt by some of their competitors to resurrect the Olympic scandal. Before he could react, clients and other competitors had squelched it and come quickly to his defense. It was something he would never forget.

Rory had been watching the career of Susan Rogers and her bay roan gelding, Tank, from the time they came on the scene. The two had a back-story that rivaled his own. They were scheduled to compete this weekend at one of the more prominent shows. Rory wanted to spend some time watching the pair and planned to catch as many of her workouts and performances as possible.

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