The Secret Journey Read Online Free PDF Page B

the last race, and
the crowd rises at the end, the lucky heading for the payoff
windows, the rest filtering back to the stairs, to the parking lot,
to the lives they'd come here to forget for awhile. A couple of
desperate losers pick their way through the discarded tickets that
litter the floor in the faint hope of finding an overlooked winner.
The woman is still waiting, my eyes meet hers, and she gets up to
follow me. I head for the door that reads No Entry. Down the stairs
are the stables, smelling of hay and horse sweat. Jack Dubois was
waiting there, his face tight and strained. Behind him Lacey was
leading Aurora into his trailer. I couldn't see her face but I
could tell from the stiffness in her back that there had been a
fight. He ignored the girl behind me, launched straight into his
speech.
    "I expected a win."
    I met his gaze. "I only train the horse,
Jack."
    His jaw tightens, then relaxes, and he turns
to look at his daughter. "I know..." there was resignation in his
voice. He seemed about to continue, then became aware of the girl.
"We'll get Aurora put away, you go on ahead."
    I nod. "Good luck, Jack." I train for Jack
Dubois by choice. I could make other choices, and he and I both
know it. He has no choice but to deal with his selfish daughter and
ill tempered wife. If he had been a different man he might not have
had a problem. He's wealthy, old money in shipping, a force to be
reckoned with in the circles where power counts for everything, and
he knows better than most what a fortune won’t buy. He's asked me
to teach Lacey to ride, but what she needs to learn can't be taught
in the saddle. She’s just not a winner, and I don’t have the time
to waste trying to make her one. I didn't envy Jack.
    I turn to go, the girl follows, out to the
parking lot into the cool night air. I open the door of my crewcab
for her, enjoy the brief touch as she brushes past. Her jeans
tighten over her trim backside as she climbs up and I smile.
Nothing wrong with her figure - for the rest, we would see. I close
the door, go around and get in. She gives me a smile as I buckle
in, nervous and suddenly shy. It takes courage to do what she's
doing, courage and faith in her own sense of judgment, to get in a
truck with a stranger like this. I start the engine and pull out,
heading away from the crowds, away from the racetrack’s blue-white
floodlights, into the moonlit darkness, its secrets and its
promises. I switch on the radio to spare us the small talk - find
music, dark, rhythmic, compelling. Is she thinking about friends
she ditched at the track, her boyfriend waiting at home? Is she
thinking of me and what she is doing? Her eyes are on mine when I
look in the side view mirror. In the cab's close confines I catch
her scent, the warm, rich tones of female arousal. She wants me,
wants what’s about to happen, and it shows. We travel down the
gravel concession road, pass farms set well back, most dark at this
hour, a few showing lights. I turn into my own lane.
    I think of my living room, hard wood floors,
fine wine, good music, the rug and the fireplace. I think of
seduction, of caress, exploration, excitement, new intimacy. That's
not what she's here for and tonight is not that easy for either of
us. I open the door for her, see her nipples tight against her
shirt as she climbs into the cool night air. Crickets sing
spring-mating love songs in the long grass, and amorous frogs
answer from the pond. It’s warmer in the barn, from the body heat
of a dozen horses and the insulating hay piled high upstairs. The
smell is earthy, familiar. The hands have been and gone, the stable
cleaned, the horses fed and watered. Alec the barn cat yawns from
his throne on the shelf beneath the heat lamp, granting me passage
into his domain with a flick of his ears. I take her into my
office, close the door.
    "Here." I take her hands and see the reaction
in her face. It’s the first time we've touched and she's wanted
that awhile, wants more