The Romeo Arrangement

I wish I hadn’t jumped to conclusions this morning and barked so much shit at her.

Yeah, I’ve been screwed over by so many women that I’d assumed—expected—her to be like them.

It was arrogant, asinine, and wrong.

The only reason she’s here is because of her dad, not to sell me down the river to coyote muckrakers.

Paranoid and stupid barely covers it.

I’m Ridge Barnet. Billionaire. Award-winning actor.

Known by all, scorned by many, still adored by some.

She should want to be here because of me. It’s humbling how egotistical I’ve been, always assuming I could crash into someone else’s life, even with good intentions, and they’d fall to my feet in gratitude.

Maybe I needed that barbed wire tongue lashing to plant my feet back on solid ground.

This is more serious than I realized.

And now I know this freak after her, Nelson, and all of us isn’t some small-time thug with a few hired guns. He’s got the brains and resources to hit us in ways I hadn’t imagined.

No script ever written had stakes this high.

I need to find the horses, get her home, and get a hold of Faulk, ASAP, to dig up everything he can on Clay Grendal.

I’m going to have to talk to Bebe, too.

She’s been blowing up my phone all day, ever since the story broke to the press. I just have to figure out how to spin this leak to my advantage first.

Ideally, to Grace’s advantage, too.

“Ridge! It’s a horse, right over there,” she hisses, sitting up in her seat, pointing to a spot just off the road.

I see the horse she’s pointing at, standing near a grove of trees at the edge of the headlights.

“Wait, wait, that can’t be them,” she says, confused and deflated. “That looks like…a black horse?”

Sure enough. I recognize the beast with the coal-black coat and white streak on his head, his mane billowing in the wind.

“That’s Edison.” A hint of excitement rips through me, and I hit the brake. “Shit, and here I thought he’d stop pulling his Houdini escape tricks sooner or later…”

“Edison?”

“Yep. Drake and Bella Larkin’s old boy. Possibly the smartest horse on the planet if you ask anyone in town. He made quite a ruckus before I showed up here.” I crane my head to see, letting out a soft whistle. “Damn. I think we’re almost to Big Fish Lake. It’s on the other side of those trees.”

We slowly bounce over the snow-packed ruts as I hit the gas again, getting closer to the trees. “Hold up. I had a feeling he wasn’t alone…see between those two big trees, in front of the pines?”

I lift a hand, pointing to the spot.

“Rosie and Stern! Oh my God.” She leans forward, closer to the dashboard, smiling so pretty I could kiss her right here. “Edison looks like…he’s keeping them company? That’s crazy.”

Once again, the horse proves why he’s a bigger celebrity around here than me.

He glances at us and tosses his head, as if to say, damn right.

Edison kept Rosie and Stern from getting closer to the frozen lake. They could’ve broken straight through with the kind of melt we’ve had, or slipped on the ice and shattered a leg.

He’s barricaded them in by the trees, or maybe he’s using whatever weird secret signals horses have to warn them.

“Now you see why he’s a legend around here. Dallas folk say he’s half bloodhound, but I think he’s half sheepdog tonight. The way he tracked his owner, Bella, all the way to town one time…”

I don’t get a chance to finish. Grace whirls, throws her hands around my neck, and I swear to God she’s squealing.

“I can’t believe we found them!” She jerks away, flustered, leaning back in her seat. “Sorry.”

Finally, a lucky break. We’ll need a few more before this shit’s over and life can get back to normal.

An odd knot forms in my stomach as I glance at Grace, bringing the truck to a stop so we can figure out how to handle the horses.

Hell, what normal is that? My life’s never been average, and hers hasn’t, either.

Me, I was born into strange, high-stakes living, but the fact that Grace was thrown into a cauldron against her will?

That pisses me right off.

Whoever Clay Grendal is, he’s about to find out that he chose the wrong mark.

My unit in Afghanistan took down demons who’d wasted entire villages while plotting bigger attacks abroad. And I didn’t have a billion dollars at my disposal then.

One two-bit mobster from Milwaukee should be a stroll through the park.

Frankly, though, when I look at Grace again and see that wispy blonde hair tucked around her smiling face like a halo, those soft blue eyes shining like a piece of the sky, I don’t care if I have to walk through hell for her.

I’ll do it in a heartbeat.