“On the other hand, the teamismy business, and I’m worried about what’s happening. Why don’t you take a room with the rest of us over at the Lansdowne? Give things a chance to get back to normal.”
“I always go first class,” Clay said. “You ought to know that by now.”
“That isn’t the reason and we both know it. It’s because of Ellie and Flex. I’ve never known you to run from a problem, Clay. Won’t you talk to them, at least try to work things out?”
“Flex and I have agreed to disagree. Ellie is riding better than she ever has. I don’t see the problem.”
Jake just sighed and shook his head. “Well, if you can’t see it, far be it from me to point it out. You do what you have to, Clay. But remember, these are the same riders you’ll be traveling with to Seoul. You need to settle things before the Olympics.”
Clay scratched Max between the ears and the stallion nickered softly. “I’ll give it some thought, Jake.”
“I’d appreciate that.” Jake started to leave, then turned back. “And, Clay, remember one thing. These people are your friends.”
Absently, Clay ran his fingers along his jaw. The bruise from Flex’s punch had faded, but apparently not the memory. “I know,” he said.
Jake nodded.
“By the way, what do you think about what happened to Shep?”
“I think he ought to be more careful who he tries to pick up,” Jake said.
“You’re saying his beating had no connection to what happened to Ellie? Nothing to do with the team?”
“I don’t see how playing cat and mouse with the wrong sex partners could possibly be interpreted as a threat to the team.”
“What do the authorities say? Those undercover security people you called from Paris?”
Jake’s insides tightened. “They said the same thing. Shep got in over his head.”
“You wouldn’t mind if I had a talk with them, would you?”
Jake’s worry kicked up. “Look, Whitfield, if you’ve got something to say, just say it.”
“All right, Jake, I will. I don’t think you ever notified the authorities and I want to know why?”
What could he say? How much of the truth could he afford to tell? Jake suddenly felt a hundred years old.
“There are considerations I’m not at liberty to discuss with you, Clay. But I give you my word I’ve spoken to people of the highest authority.” It was the truth. Daniel knew most of what was going on. Most, but not all. “I really don’t think there’s anything for you to worry about.”
Clay watched him closely.
“I’m asking you to trust me, Clay. Let me handle this my way.”
Clay took a deep breath. “All right, Jake. For now, I’ll agree. But if anything else happens—anything at all—I’m going to the police.”
It was more than he’d hoped for. “Fair enough,” Jake said and prayed nothing else would go wrong.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Upstairs in his room, Jake unpacked and put away his clothes. Since the competition didn’t start until the following Tuesday, they’d be staying in Dublin for almost two weeks. Jake had been looking forward to seeing a little of the country. Now he just wanted whatever was going to happen to be over with and done.
Sliding back the sleeve of his coat, he checked his watch. Almost one o’clock. He was due at the tobacconist shop at two. Picking up his money clip and the wad of Irish bills calledpunthe’d exchanged from English pounds at the airport, he headed out the door.
The cab ride to Molesworth Street normally didn’t take long, but Jake decided to take a roundabout route, change cabs a couple of times, just in case he was being followed by Daniel’s men.
At two o’clock sharp he got out of the taxi in front of the Bit O’ Dublin Tobacconist Shop, a small store wedged between two antique dealers. The window was filled with a multitude of pipes, cigars, cigar clippers, cartons of cigarettes, anything and everything that had to do with smoking.
Jake pushed open the glass-paned door, making the bell ring, and inhaled the aroma of tobacco, so pungent it made his mouth water, though he’d never take up smoking again.
