“What?” He stared at her, his arm lowering the brush as if it were a heavy weight.
“Hayden isn’t here. He got word this morning that his father’s plane had crashed over New Mexico. He’s on his way to Gallup.”
“And Chet?” Roper’s face had paled.
“He’s in the hospital. But he’s not expected to live. That’s all I know about his condition.”
“Damn.” Roper cursed, shaking his head. “I talked to Chet on the phone last night. He was upset about his stallion, of course, but he didn’t blame me. He offered to work with the horse in the hope that we could have him ready to show. I didn’t tell him how bad off Fire Dance was.”
“There’s something else,” Cheyenne said. “He had a passenger in the plane, a young woman. She didn’t survive the crash.”
“Oh, Lord, no,” Roper groaned. “Chet mentioned that his girlfriend wanted to come to Las Vegas with him. They’d planned to get married, and she’d always wanted an Elvis wedding. But he said he’d talked her into waiting for a less busy time. She must’ve changed his mind.”
“Did he mention that she was pregnant?”
“No. But that makes sense. Damn rotten luck.” Roper sucked in his breath. “Chet was hoping to see Hayden winthe Cutting Horse Challenge. I guess that doesn’t matter anymore. What about Hayden’s horse?”
“I’m taking care of Steely Dan. He’s a sweet boy. Hayden said he’d send a driver to load the two horses and take them home to Texas.” She paused, glancing down the row of stalls. “How is Fire Dance?”
“Not good,” Roper said. “See for yourself. Don’t open the gate. Just look over the top.”
Fire Dance’s stall was two numbers down the row. Dreading what she was about to see, Cheyenne stretched on tiptoe to look over the gate.
The sight of the beautiful sorrel stallion broke her heart. He was wild-eyed, pacing, and tossing his head. When he saw Cheyenne at the gate, he lunged for her, baring his teeth. Reflexively, she jumped back.
“Nobody can get near him, not even to clean his stall,” Roper said. “We’re sliding food and water under the gate, but he’s not taking much.”
“Oh, Roper.” She blinked back tears. “What’s going to happen to him?”
Roper shook his head. “If he can make it home, where he feels safe, he might be all right in time. But he can’t stay here. If he’s too dangerous to load or be sedated, there’ll be nothing we can do but put him down.”
CHAPTERSEVEN
Darrin hadn’t told Simone about the disturbing phone call. But the memory of that voice haunted him like an unwelcome song replaying in his ears. Every place he and Simone walked together—the casino, the shops and restaurants in the Excalibur, the teeming sidewalks, the parking lots, and the horse complex at South Point—he had the prickly sense of being watched. But there was no word, no look or sign, nothing to confirm for him that a long-lost brother was in touch.
Maybe the call had been a prank after all. Maybe the so-called long-lost brother just wanted to rob him, blackmail him, or take advantage in some other way. If the kinship was real and the caller was seeking family, he would surely have shown himself by now.
Forget it, Darrin told himself. He had more important things to think about. At the top of the list was getting Lila out of that house, any way he could—and on this, he and Simone were in complete agreement.
Mariah had texted him that Lila and her daughter would be flying to Las Vegas today and staying in a reserved room at South Point—she’d even known the roomnumber. But there were complications. Lila was still recovering from snakebite, so she’d be resting in her room most of the time. And even when she went out, her daughter would be with her. Getting Lila alone would be a challenge.
Running into Jasmine had been a stroke of luck. She hadn’t been happy to get involved in their plan, but as Simone had predicted, she would do almost anything to save her FBI lover’s reputation and his job.
They’d known better than to tell her too much. As far as Jasmine was concerned, their plan would be to tell Lila that they’d found ironclad evidence to prove that Roper had murdered Frank. Signing the quit-claim deed that Darrin carried in an inner vest pocket would get her possession of that evidence and save Roper from prison.
What they hadn’t told Jasmine was that if Lila didn’t sign the deed—or even if she did—anything could happen.
Jasmine stood at the window, lost in thought as she gazed out over the cluttered landscape that was daytime Las Vegas. Darrin and Simone’s threat to expose Sam had backed her into a corner. She’d had little choice except to agree to their plan.
Her part in it sounded simple enough. The only thing Darrin and Simone had asked of her was that she find a way to separate Lila from her daughter, who watched over the woman like a hawk and who would certainly stop her from signing away her inheritance.
But why not? Jasmine asked herself. She’d never liked Lila, who’d broken up her parents’ marriage and ruled the house like a queen for eleven years. Now that Frank was gone, Lila didn’t deserve to keep his property. By rights, shouldn’t it go to his family?
As for Roper, he didn’t strike her as a killer. Especiallysince she suspected that Darrin and Simone’s claim of evidence was fake. But she wouldn’t be hurting him. And she wouldn’t be breaking the law. All she needed to do was lure Miss Gemma away from her mother long enough for Darrin and Simone to get Lila alone.
In exchange for this, Jasmine would get the telltale photos deleted from Simone’s phone.
The plan sounded simple, even harmless. So why were Jasmine’s gut instincts sensing evil—the same evil that emanated from her own family bloodline?