Her hair still a little damp from the shower, she grabbed her purse, slung the strap over her shoulder, and headed for Cain’s private elevator. She needed to get back home and change into clean clothes. She wasn’t secure enough to leave any of her personal belongings in Cain’s suite. Neither of them had any idea how long they would be together.
The thought tugged at something inside her.
The elevator opened on the bottom floor, and Jenny pushed through the door leading out to the rear parking lot, hoping to leave unseen.
Instead, when she walked out, she spotted Cain talking to a lean, black-haired man standing next to a black SUV. She thought about ducking back into the hotel, but it was too late.
Cain waved and strode toward her. He smiled. “Trying to escape?”
As always, the man was far too perceptive. “I need to get to work. I’ll be back this afternoon.”
Cain nodded, but a trace of amusement touched his lips. “A friend of mine just showed up. I’d like you to meet him.” Urging her forward, he led her over to the man standing next to the SUV.
“Jenny Spencer, meet Nick Faraday. Nick’s a private investigator. He’s been trying to help me find Sun King—and the people who stole him.”
She didn’t miss the edge in Cain’s voice. He wasn’t used to being thwarted, even by a band of thieves.
“Nice to meet you, Nick,” she said.
“You too, Jenny. I understand you own the Copper Star.”
She didn’t ask how he knew. He worked for Cain as a private investigator. “It’s been in my family for a number of years.”
Nick didn’t mention the murder, though it had been all over the local and not-so-local news. Jenny wondered if Cain had asked him to look into it. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
“Nick stopped by on his way to Flagstaff.” Cain turned to his friend. “Sure you don’t have time to come in for a cup of coffee?”
Nick shook his head. “Thanks, but I’m going to be late as it is.” He was a good-looking man, the muscles filling out the sleeves of his olive-drab T-shirt making it clear he stayed in shape.
“You were bringing me up to speed on the stolen horses,” Cain reminded him, putting the conversation back on track.
Nick nodded. “The two Morgan geldings stolen from the Four Winds Ranch turned up at a rural property in Winslow. The owner called the authorities. County sheriff got involved, saw the horses on a stolen property report, and had them returned to the ranch.”
“So they’re back at the Four Winds.”
“That’s right.”
“Which leaves one of the Branch Creek quarter horses and Sun King still missing.”
Nick just nodded. “Did you have any luck with your computer people?”
“I spoke to Matt Reasoner in my Scottsdale office on Friday. He’s still digging around, but so far he hasn’t found any online searches that connect the three ranches.”
“So nobody searching for info on valuable horses in Yavapai County,” Nick said.
“Doesn’t look that way.”
Nick’s gaze locked with Cain’s. “You realize none of this is making any sense. Thieves steal a bunch of valuable horses, then let them go? How does that work?”
Cain’s jaw looked tight. “Maybe after the thieves took them, they found out how hard it is to sell high-value, registered livestock. Without their papers, the animals aren’t worth much more than any other horses. Maybe they figured it was better to get rid of them than end up going to jail.”
“Could be,” Nick said. “Or could be stealing the others was simply a distraction. Your stallion is the most valuable horse by far. While the police are spreading themselves thin searching for a bunch of far-less-expensive livestock, Sun King could be on his way to Mexico.”
“Or Saudi Arabia,” Jenny added, and both men turned to look at her. “A couple of weeks ago, I read an article online that said horses are a major part of the Arab culture. They’re willing to pay just about anything to own the very best.”
“Sun King isn’t for sale,” Cain said.
“Exactly,” Jenny said.
