Jake sighed. Who the hell was he to criticize? His own emotions were constantly in turmoil over Maggie.
“Most of you have ridden Hickstead before,” Jake said, capturing the riders’ attention. “Is there anyone here besides Ellie who hasn’t?” No hands went up. “I’d appreciate some input, anything any of you might remember that could help her get a feel for the course. We can talk about it over drinks in the bar.”
Rumbles of agreement rolled around. As the waiters began clearing the dishes, Ellie rose and so did Prissy, who’d been sitting beside her.
“Somehow I get the impression your mind’s not on the competition,” Prissy said as they headed for the bar.
“No, I guess it isn’t.”
“Thinking about Clay?”
She felt a wave of sadness. “I thought he might call. I guess I’m kidding myself. Clay left town with a beautiful woman. Why would he be thinking about me?”
“You saw them together? Where?”
“Claridge’s,” Ellie said softly.
“Claridge’s? What were you doing at Claridge’s?” Prissy’s eyes widened. “Clay had a suite there. Surely you didn’t let him lure you up to his room?”
Ellie blinked back tears. “Please, Prissy, I’d rather not talk about it—especially not here.” When Ellie glanced away, Prissy caught her arm.
“That sonofabitch,” Prissy said furiously.
“It wasn’t his fault. Please, let’s not talk about it now.”
With dinner over, everyone gathered in the pub, a dark-paneled room with an old, carved mahogany bar. Very staid and very British.
When Jake spotted Ellie getting ready to leave, he pulled her aside.
“You need to stay a little longer,” he said. “Spend some time with the team. They can give you some help with the course.”
Ellie headed into the bar to join the rest of the group, and Jake stayed behind to pay the bill. Leafing through the wad of twenty-pound notes he carried, he paused at the sound of footsteps coming up behind him.
“Good evening, Comrade Straka.”
Jake’s hand froze on his wallet. He turned to see a wiry, dark-haired man with an angular face and eyes so brown they appeared black. He wore black slacks and a gray knit pullover whose short sleeves revealed sinewy arms and not an ounce of fat.
A second man, blond and boyishly handsome, stood beside him dressed in a very British tweed coat over a shirt with initials on the cuff. A pair of expensive gabardine slacks flared over dark brown kidskin loafers.
They seemed a bizarre twosome.
“What do you want?”
“I just wanted to say hello,” the first man said. “We have several mutual friends. Comrade Popov...and your Ms. Fletcher. Ms. Fletcher and I know each other...rather ...intimately.”
Jake’s whole body tightened. He forced himself to stay calm but the hand at his side balled into a fist.
“Unfortunately, Ms. Fletcher and I did not have the chance to develop our...friendship...as fully as I intended.”
“Listen to me,” Jake warned, fighting to control the fury burning through him. “Ellen Fletcher has nothing to do with this. You want something from me? Well, you won’t get it if you hurt my people. You understand me?”
The dark eyes seemed to glisten. “Like you, Comrade, I will do whatever it is I am asked to do. That is how I earn my living.” He smiled thinly. “I just hope my next assignment is as pleasant as the last.”
Jake took an unconscious step forward, his jaw clenched so hard it hurt. It was too late for Ellie. But if the bastard came near Maggie, Jake would kill him.
“The way I heard it,” Jake said, thinking of the beating Clay had given the man. “Your last assignment wasn’t as pleasant as you’d like me to believe.”
He grunted. “No, I suppose not. One of your overzealous riders interrupted our...conversation. I would enjoy paying him back for the bruises I still carry.” His eyes looked hard, but the smile stayed frozen on his too-thin lips. “Enjoy your evening, Comrade.” With a nod to his partner, the pair slipped quietly out of the room.
