Giving Chase (A Racing Romance) (Aspen Valley Series #2) (42 page)

‘And sharing the same name, I’m guessing Gus is
your...’ Hugh’s eyes scanned the jumble of jewellery on Tessa’s left hand for a wedding ring. ‘...brother?’

‘Yes,’ Tessa said, unsure if she enjoyed the satisfied smile that curled his lips.
‘How did you get involved in Ta’ Qali?’

Hugh shrugged, pausing to people-watch while he considered his reply.

‘Research. I write novels,’ said Hugh, looking almost embarrassed. ‘Well,
a
novel. A thriller.’

Tessa, who hadn’t picked up a book in weeks, showed polite interest.
‘Really? Might I have read it?’

‘Maybe.
Have you heard of
Red Sky at Night
by Christopher Blake?’

Tessa stopped in her tracks. The dark thrills of the Devonshire coast smugglers in
Red Sky at Night
had had her glued to her e-reader for a week. ‘You’re Christopher Blake?’

‘Sounds a bit tougher than Hugh Lamb, doesn’t it?’

‘Goodness, I loved that book. It was fantastic!’

Hugh gave a self-effacing chuckle as they crossed behind the marquee to the adjoining paddock. ‘Thanks. I’m just hoping I’m not a one-hit wonder.’

‘You couldn’t be.
Red Sky at Night
was like Dan Brown, except well-written. Goodness, I never thought I’d be standing here talking to some international bestselling author. This racing business certainly has its perks.’

‘And plenty besides I hope. Can you keep a secret?’

She wavered, dying to know what this literary genius had to say yet excruciatingly aware that secret-keeping was not one of her strengths. Hugh didn’t appear to notice.

‘There are a couple of reasons I bought into Ta’ Qali. Of course, I do enjoy the odd day at the races, but I also wanted to get the inside dirt for the next book. My
agent suggested it really. Plus I get to claim on expenses.’

Tessa gasped in delight. ‘So you’re like a covert agent looking into racing’s shady underworld?’

Hugh smirked. Tessa gazed at Hugh, his chin suddenly less weak, his shoulders less clothes-hangerish. Here was someone much more interesting than that grumpy sex god.

*

They joined Gus, Freya and Sin at the paddock fence. One of the cameramen was still hovering, although he now kept his distance from Sin. Standing on the other side of the fence with a microphone and clipboard was horse training maestro, Jack Carmichael. In his faded jeans and red gilet, one foot resting on the lower fence railing, Tessa had ample time to admire the taught curve of his bottom. His new bride, Pippa, didn’t have anything to worry about though. Tessa kept to a strict Look But Don’t Touch rule. Relationships were much too complex for her to bother with.

‘Where are the rest of the syndicate?’ she asked Gus as the first of Aspen Valley’s sleek racehorses was led into the paddock.

‘Eddie’s around here somewhere. Anne Munroe said she would try fit us into her schedule, but couldn’t promise anything. And Eoin and Dilys Jones couldn’t find anyone to look after their pub for the day. So that leaves who else? Oh, Judith. Yes, she’s away in Italy, I believe.’

Tessa counted the names on her fingers. ‘Who’s the tenth member? Or do the Joneses have two shares?’

Gus nodded towards Jack now relaying the parading horse’s form from his pad. ‘Jack. He was the original owner. When he realised Ta’ Qali’s potential, it was too late to keep him so we compromised.’

Tessa nodded her approval.
‘Can’t be bad if the trainer wants a share as well.’

‘And this horse here,’ Gus said pointing to a glossy bay jig-jogging past them, ‘is one we should be keeping an eye on.’

‘Oh? Who’s he?’

From Gus’s other
side, a dry voice spoke up. ‘If you kept quiet for a minute and listened, you’d perhaps already know.’

Tessa was too indignant to find a suitable response to Sin’s rudeness.

‘Dexter,’ Gus said in a placating voice. ‘He’s Ta’ Qali’s workmate. Also the reigning Champion Hurdler.’

Throwing a last glare at Sin, Tessa turned her attention to Jack’s commentary.

‘Next we have Virtuoso. Some of you may remember him.’

A rumble of laughter
rolled through the audience. Tessa remained infuriatingly out of the joke, but she’d be damned if she was going to ask Gus. Thankfully, Jack carried on his spiel. ‘Virtuoso is Aspen Valley’s very own Cheltenham Gold Cup hero. Now retired, he decided after seven years on the go and with nine Grade One wins under his belt, to plant his hooves at the start of last year’s Gold Cup...’

*

With half a dozen more Cheltenham champions and Grand National horses paraded, Tessa was starting to take against Jack Carmichael.

‘He’s awfully boastful,’ she whispered in Gus’s ear.

Gus just shrugged. ‘Facts are facts and this whole Open Day is about showing off the best. You can’t begrudge him for being good at his job.’

‘Next up is Ta’ Qali,’ announced Jack. Tessa perked up and all five of them leaned a little closer to the fence.
Ta’ Qali’s black coat gleamed in the weak sunlight. His body was muscular without being burly, slim and stream-lined for speed. ‘Now it took us most of his novice season to figure this guy out. Ran like a crazy mustang for his first three starts with us then thanks to Frankie, his lass over there, he came good in time to break his maiden at the Aintree Festival last April. He’ll be making his seasonal debut at Taunton in ten days’ time.’

A few people clapped and Ta’ Qali’s handler, dressed in exercise jodhpurs and baseball cap, raised a fist in appreciation. They had half-completed their lap, being admirably well-behaved compared to some of the other horses and lads, when the soft drone of a helicopter drifted into earshot.

The drone soon became a roar. The fierce whup-whup of the rotors turned the paddocks into choppy seas of silvery green and the marquee’s canvas walls flapped like a startled goose. Ta’ Qali reared.

‘What the fuck?’ Jack said, forgetting he still held the microphone. Tessa doubted many heard him above the noise though. The helicopter touched down in a flat paddock close by. Its engines snarled like a savage wildcat.
Pandemonium broke out in the parade ring. Ta’ Qali was doing an impressive rendition of his crazy
Mustang Qali
number while Frankie hung on to the lead rope like a kite-flyer in a gale.

‘Turn that bloody thing off!’ Jack bellowed into the microphone.

The Cheltenham champions that he had so proudly presented, galloped loose in a frenzy of bucks and farts. A solid chestnut horse, introduced minutes earlier as Dust Storm, thundered down upon the syndicate members. Tessa saw his wild gleaming eyes and flared poppy nostrils. People cried out and stumbled away from the fence. Only Sin remained, his expression deadpan, his arms still resting on the railing with hands loosely clasped. Dust Storm bore down on him. Tessa looked from the horse to the man in panic.

‘Move, you
eejit!’ she cried.

Fearless Dickhead Sinclair didn’t acknowledge her. Six feet from the fence Dust Storm slammed on brakes and skidded to a greasy halt in front of him.
At his leisure, Sin reached out and took the flailing lead rope.

*

Finally, with the snarling helicopter stilled, peace re-established itself in the parade ring. The excitement of wild horses now passed, everyone’s attention turned collectively to the chopper’s occupants. Two dark-suited heavies hopped out then turned to help a feminine figure, wrapped in what Tessa hoped was a fake fur coat, step delicately onto the grass. Dark glasses did nothing to camouflage her presence.

‘Isn’t that what’s-her-name?’ began Freya.

‘Rihanna?’ Hugh said hopefully.

‘Close.
It’s Tatiana, Princess of Pop,’ Tessa provided in awe. ‘Goodness, Aspen Valley certainly knows how to put on an Open Day.’

Gus shook his head and looked disconcerted. ‘I don’t think she’s here for our entertainment. Tatiana is Anne Munroe, another of Ta’ Qali’s owners.’

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