She was gone.

  Georgiana and George were waiting for Travis as he rode Gambler out of the arena. “That was so good!” Georgiana cooed, rubbing Gambler’s neck.

  George stood by, silent, giving Travis nothing more than a single nod. Typical George, Travis thought. Nothing to say unless he had a complaint.

  “Yeah, he’s come a long way.” Travis tried to be polite, but everything in him wanted to go find Catherine. She was still there. Why?

  The announcer's voice rang out over the arena, “Ladies and gentlemen we have the score for our last rider, Travis Bishop, aboard Gambler’s Latest Addiction, a 221. That gives us a new third-place rider.”

  “Are you happy with that? I mean, I know first place would be better, but he did good, didn’t he?” The questions rattled out of Georgiana’s mouth faster than Travis could answer them.

  Travis nodded, “Yeah. We had a long trip here and they didn’t give us very long to warm up. I’m happy with that. He’s improving. That’s all I can ask.”

  “First place would’ve been better,” George grunted, walking away.

  Georgiana rolled her eyes, still rubbing Gambler’s neck, “Don’t pay any attention to him. I know we're only here for the points.”

  “That’s right.” Travis glanced around him, “Listen, as much as I’d like to stay and chitchat, I need to get him cooled down. I’ll talk to you after we get back to Texas, okay?” It was as nice of a blow-off as he could manage at that moment, his chest tight, knowing Catherine was still there, somewhere.

  “Of course! I’m sorry. Yes, I know you have a lot to do. We aren’t your only clients, after all…” she whined. It was clearly a complaint that Travis wasn’t paying enough attention to them. Travis didn’t have the time or the inclination to help Georgiana feel better. He gave her a nod and squeezed his legs to get Gambler moving away from the arena. He was grateful she didn’t ask about his arm, especially in front of George. A score of 221 was good, one he could be happy about at some point. But at that moment, he didn’t care about third-place or the 221, which should have delighted him given the stiff competition at the Derby. He had to find Catherine.

  Licking his lips, Travis guided Gambler past the exhibitor’s warm-up arena and back toward the barn where his stall was. Instead of stopping, Travis kept going, angling the horse in the direction that he’d walked the night before.

  The crowd thinned out as they made their way past the empty dairy barns toward the back of the fairgrounds. Things looked very different in the daytime. He heard a few birds chirping off in the distance, replacing the eerie hoot of the owl from the darkness. The low growl of a single truck or a tractor, he couldn’t tell which, rumbled in the distance.

  Travis turned Gambler toward the spot where the knife attack had happened the night before, a pit forming in his stomach. The same line of three green and black dumpsters was still between the two buildings, the acrid smell from the pile of rotting manure hanging in the air, waiting to be taken away from the barns.

  Travis tugged at the reins, stopping Gambler, staring at the ground. The body was gone. Travis looked around him, feeling like there were eyes on the back of his neck. Was someone watching him? His gut had never been wrong. He stared at the ground, ignoring the feeling, but wishing he’d stopped to get his gun from the trailer.

  He scanned the area, trying to estimate the spot where the man had died. There wasn’t even a single tinge of blood on the gravel and no mention of it had been made by anyone at the show. No additional police, no crime scene tape. No nothing. Travis rested his hands on the horn of his saddle and frowned. If this had been a professional hit then it came with a professional level of cleanup. That was concerning. Not a trace had been left behind. A murder had happened at the horse show, right under everyone’s noses, one Travis was responsible for, and yet no one knew…

  Travis turned Gambler around and started walking back toward the barn. If there was no body, there was nothing he could learn. Travis hummed to himself, trying to take his thoughts off what had happened when all of a sudden he felt Gambler’s left shoulder drop as he shied away from something. “Whoa, boy,” Travis said, pulling up on the reins.

  Catherine emerged around the corner of the building. “Hello, Travis.”

  9

  Catherine took a couple of steps forward towards Travis as he got Gambler settled down. “Sorry if I scared your horse.”

  Travis slid down off the saddle, the gravel crunching under his boots. “Easy, boy,” he said, rubbing the gelding’s neck. “Yeah, you spooked him pretty good. He doesn’t normally do that.” Travis narrowed his eyes looking at Catherine. She was dressed like any other of the showgoers, a pair of jeans, a wide leather belt with a large silver buckle, a red blouse, and a beige cowboy hat. For all anyone knew, she could be anything from an owner to an exhibitor. She fit in well, Travis thought. “Where have you been?”

  “Dealing with a few things.” She stared at the ground for a second, her lips pressed together. From what Travis could tell, there was more to the story, but whatever it was, she wasn’t saying. Probably classified MI6 business. “Sorry I disappeared on you last night. It’s one thing for me to warn you about an attack, completely something else for an MI6 officer to get involved, especially on international soil. I had to go.” A smile tugged at her cheek, “I’m glad to see you’re okay, though.”

  Travis shook his head, frowning, “You could’ve at least thrown a rock at the guy with the knife or something before you took off,” he grumbled. “But without the heads up, I would’ve been in real trouble. Thanks for that.”

  Catherine smiled. “Did you get hurt?”

  “Just a slice on my arm. I’m all right.”

  “Your ride was good.”

  Travis narrowed his eyes. He knew Catherine didn’t know anything about the sport of reining. It was primarily an American invention, although there were some riders from Europe, particularly Italy, that did well.

  Travis looked off in the distance, thinking. A quiet settled between the two of them for a second, the only noise the shuffling of Gambler’s metal shoes against the gravel as he rested one hip. Travis rubbed the big gelding’s neck and then looked back at Catherine. “You came back. Why?” Part of him needed to know if there was some other motivation for Catherine’s return. If her whole mission had been to deliver the message, she’d taken care of that last night. Why was she back?

  She raised her eyebrows, “I wanted to see if you were okay, and I’m glad you are.” She kicked at a chunk of gravel absentmindedly with her toe. “How’s the other guy? Did you recognize him?”

  Travis opened his mouth to speak and then paused. He needed to be careful. Catherine was still an agent of a foreign government. Admitting he’d killed someone else could put him in a tenuous situation. Then again, things were already a mess. How much worse could it get? As the thought passed through his mind, he felt a wave of nausea pass over him. “The guy? No. I didn’t recognize him. Brown hair, brown beard. About the same height as me. I didn’t really get a good look at him till he was on the ground.”

  “He was down?” Catherine furrowed her eyebrows.

  “Yeah.” Travis looked at the toe of his boot, nudging a twig with it.

  By the time he looked up, Catherine was staring at him. “You killed him?”

  Travis nodded. “I grabbed the knife while he still had his hands on it. Stabbed him in the gut. Must have hit the abdominal artery. The thing is…”

  Catherine frowned, “What is it?”

  “We’re just about where it happened. He’s gone. Not even a drop of blood is left.”

  Catherine cocked her head to the side, “Why does that surprise you, Travis Bishop? You were in the spy business for a long time. You didn’t think they probably had someone watching? Either way, there was going to be a body to remove. It was either going to be yours or his…”

  The matter-of-fact way that Catherine said it sent a shudder down Travis’s spine. He’d been so focused on where the man’s body was he didn’t stop to think that whoever had sent the man had also sent a cleanup team. Travis’s body could very well have been the one that they were mopping up after. He gritted his teeth and shook his head.

  Catherine reached out and grabbed his arm, “Listen, Travis. I don’t know you well, but I’ve read your background. I know you have the capacity to handle this, but I also can tell you’ve got questions running in your head about why you and why now.”

  “Of course I do. Wouldn’t you? I’ve been out of the game for five years!”

  Catherine dropped her hand back to her side, “Yes, in fact, I would. I’m not saying you shouldn’t. But that doesn’t change the fact that someone came after you last night and he’s likely not the last one.”

  Travis had been thinking the same thing, but hearing Catherine say it hit him like a ton of bricks, the muscles in his chest tightening. This situation was completely different than his time with Delta Force. When he was with the military they were the hunters, not the hunted, not to mention he had a team to back him up as they eliminated targets identified by the US government as threats to the nation. And although his work with the CIA was far less violent than what he’d done with Delta Force, he was still with a team. Anyone he was working with at the time had his back.

  And now no one did. He was alone.

  Catherine’s voice interrupted his thoughts, “Travis, you have a choice to make. You can go back to your ranch in Texas and pretend nothing happened. But trouble will come. And soon. Or, you can work with me and I will help you figure out who is coming after you and why. And maybe, just maybe, we can stop them if we work together.”

  Travis narrowed his eyes, “Why would you do that?”

  Catherine shrugged, “I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I like you? Or maybe because my director told me to?”

  Travis tried not to smile. He was in the middle of an assassination plot and Catherine was cracking jokes.

  “Okay. I’ve gotta get the horses taken care of before I make any decisions. I’ll think about what you said.”

  “Don’t think too long Travis,” she stared at him. “Trouble is coming to you whether you like it or not. Come to London. I have assets and resources there. We can help you if you’ll let us.”

  10

  By the time Travis swung his leg over Gambler’s back and glanced up to wave at Catherine, she was gone. He shook his head. She had the uncanny ability to disappear before his eyes. She was a ghost, one with a message that had the power to end his life, or at least change it permanently, if he believed what she said.

  Travis chewed his lip as he rode Gambler back to the barn. Ellie was already there. She had Joker in the cross ties, wrapping his legs with protective cotton travel bandages for the ride home. She glanced up at Travis as he walked Gambler down the aisle, “Where have you been? Your ride looked good.”

  “I took Gambler for a little cool-down walk after his run.” It was a partial lie, not a complete one. He had used the walk to cool Gambler down, but mostly to scope out the site where the knife attack had been. Had been. As if it never happened. A tingle ran down his spine, thinking about what Catherine had said.

  Ellie nodded, not seeming to think anything of Travis’ disappearance. “I saw Georgiana and George grabbed you right after.”

  “Yeah, George wasn’t happy about Gambler being third.”

  Ellie raised her eyebrows, “Actually second. They disqualified the rider who had second place. Went off course. They saw it in the replay. You got second.”

  Travis nodded. At least that was something of a win. George and Georgiana would be happy about that. A second-place finish would net him a cool thirty thousand dollars which he would split with the owners, plus the qualifying points toward the end of season show totals. He was one step closer to the Run for a Million in Las Vegas.

  Ellie laughed, “I’m surprised you didn’t know. Not bad for two minutes' worth of work!”

  Travis grunted, “And the months of work it took to get here.”

  “Don’t be so cynical. It was a good run. Gambler’s never looked better. Now, let’s get these horses home.”

  Travis nodded.

  An hour later, Ellie and Travis had managed to load the rest of their equipment and the horses onto the truck and trailer. By the time they approached Fort Worth on their way back to the ranch, Travis was starving. He glanced at Ellie. She had nodded off for the first segment of the ride, her body curled into a ball on the leather seat next to him, her head leaning against the window. That was fine with him. Neither of them was a big talker and he needed time to think. He put his hand on her shoulder and gave her a nudge. Ellie blinked, rolling her head toward him. “You hungry?” Travis asked.

  Ellie nodded.

  “I’m gonna stop at the next exit for food. We can check the horses, grab a bite and use the bathroom before the last leg.”

  Ellie pushed herself up in the seat, brushing a stray blonde hair away from the side of her face that had escaped her braid while she’d slept. “Sounds good. I’m starved. Thanks for doing all the driving.”

  Travis nodded. After all of the hubbub at the horse show, he was usually grateful for the few hours they had in the truck on the way back, especially if Ellie slept. After the last twenty-four hours, he’d take any quiet he could get. Travis shifted in his seat, feeling edgy. At a normal horse show, the noise, endless conversations, voices pumping out over the PA system, the rush to get the horses there, ready for class, and shown always left him feeling drained, as if his body was a dull car battery in need of a charge.

  The drive back was a reentry of sorts. In Travis’s mind, he thought of it the same way a space capsule made its way back into Earth, flames licking at every inch of the hull as the friction of the surface broke through the Earth’s protective atmosphere, the first view of a calm, pristine green and blue Earth below, the jolt of splashing down and the relief of opening the hatch to breathe fresh air again.

  Although Travis had never experienced returning from space himself, he could imagine it in great detail, probably from the single book one of his foster moms gave him. Each mile he drove back to the ranch seemed like one closer to making reentry to a life he understood. The one that he wanted. Sure, part of him enjoyed the horse shows, but it wasn’t that much different from being on an operation with the military or the CIA. Lots of prep, lots of packing, and lots of training for a very short window of action. He loved the slower, repetitive schedule of the ranch — the early mornings, hearing the birds chirp in the trees as he walked or drove down to the barn after having his first couple of sips of bitter coffee, the fresh morning air on his face, the rustling of the horses in their stalls, the smell of the hay and their warm bodies filling the barn. There was nothing like it.

  Travis glanced at Ellie. She’d nodded off again. That was fine. They still had a few miles to go before getting to the exit. This trip had been particularly painful, both literally and figuratively. Travis glanced down at his arm. It’d had a dull ache since they left, the nerves objecting to being exposed to the light and the air, the raw edge of skin feeling like it was alternately burning and throbbing as he drove. Travis sighed, letting out a long breath, Catherine’s warnings rattling in his head. Part of it seemed unbelievable to him. Was it really possible that there was a hit out on his life from the very people he’d been loyal to? Or was this some sort of grand deception to get him to engage in some other type of conflict? It was certainly possible that MI6 had orchestrated the knife attack to corroborate the information that Catherine had provided for him. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. She’d appeared out of the blue. The knife attack was right after she told him there was a kill order out on his life. In his mind, it was a little too perfect.

  Travis narrowed his eyes, turning on the blinker for the next exit, slowing the trailer down, feeling the momentum of the horse rig, plus the nearly six tons of animals on board, pushing at the back of the truck challenging his ability to stop. Travis pumped the brakes gently, easing the trailer onto the off-ramp. He shook his head. It all seemed too convenient. Questions filled his mind. Was that even Catherine? He’d only met her one time before and at that moment she’d been heavily disguised. She did have the same eyes and the same voice, though. At least there was that.

  Pulling into the truck stop, Travis headed the truck and trailer toward the gas pumps, throwing it into park and quickly setting up the pump to fill up the tank. Ellie roused from her nap as he leaned inside the truck, pulling the keys out of the ignition. She stretched overhead, wincing as if her body was achy. “We're here. Last stop before the ranch,” Travis said.

  “Thanks. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

  Travis heard Ellie’s seatbelt unclip and the door of the truck slam behind her. He watched as she walked toward the truck stop, her strides short and clipped, her blonde braid bobbing on her back as she headed inside.

  As soon as the pump clicked off, Travis got back in the truck, put the keys back in the ignition, and pulled it away from the gas station. He angled the rig into one of the spots reserved for semis and long trucks and trailers on the other side of the towering awnings that covered the bank of pumps. He walked around the trailer, opening each one of the hatches, looking inside, giving each one of the horses a little scratch on the side of their cheek, at least all of them except for Joker, who stared at him and turned his head away as if he was angry he was still stuck in the trailer. Travis shook his head. Joker was always the last one in and the first one out. He fit his name. He was a wildcard, that was for sure.