Read Online Fighting Chance (Misty Grove Book 1) by Victoria Paige - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Victoria Paige
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herself to him on a silver platter, and he had to grow a conscience and in the process make her feel unworthy of him.
So she focused all her energy into becoming everything he didn’t want—aggressive and far from sweet. It was who she was anyway.
*****
“There, girl, I wish I could ride you,” Cassie whispered to her favorite mare, Stella, whose fancy name was Royal Estelle V. The Arabian neighed softly, extending her neck from the 12x12 stall and nuzzled Cassie’s cheek. Ever since the incident on Route 623, it had been decided that the twins shouldn’t wander around the ranch. There were cameras installed in the immediate vicinity but not on the horse trails. They had finally made contact with Colt and Matt, who were due back on the ranch in two weeks. They were wrapping up an operation that was related to the Chrysalis black op project, and Colt indicated he had some news. This was making Cassie antsy. A few months ago, there’d been shaky evidence that Piper was alive. No information on Kate. A tightness gripped her chest, borne of unprocessed grief or maybe guilt. The guilt of leaving someone behind. Stella nudged her again, seemingly wanting to absorb her pain. It wasn’t on a whim that Arabian horses were chosen as companions for the Chrysalis survivors. Cassie felt an affinity with these amazing creatures. They were high-spirited and alert and had historically been used in war. Much like she had been.
Montgomery Ranch boasted a 200-acre expanse of natural landscape. There was grazing land, equine trails with a variety of native plants and trees, and granite rock outcroppings. A spring-fed creek ran along the line of the property. It was a small breeding operation for Arabians with four stallions and six mares, consisting of a twenty-four stall barn, a bunkhouse, a ranch house and an annex, an indoor and outdoor training arena, and various paddocks around the ranch. A seemingly legitimate business. It was all a front. Colt knew fuck-all about breeding horses and neither did Cassie and Lucas, although they did know their way around the animals, including their care and maintenance.
Mac and their four permanent ranch hands kept the breeding program going. All of them were ex-military and vetted by no less than the CIA. Visitors coming in under the guise of buyers were really agents having downtime, frequently from an injury or who needed time to regroup after a particularly traumatic mission. They usually stayed at the annex—another ranch-style structure behind the main house. The duration of their stay lasted a week to a month.
Voices and footfalls broke through her thoughts. Mac’s and ... He had some audacity showing up here.
Trent.
“What are you doing here?” She glared at him before transferring her displeasure to Mac. “Why did you allow him through the gates?”
“Said he had business with you.” The ranch caretaker shrugged.
“G’afternoon, Cassandra,” Trent greeted in a sexy drawl. There he went calling her by her full name, and she’d admit she liked hearing those syllables roll off his deep, bass voice. He was wearing a snug white tee, well-worn jeans, and military boots. It was the first time she had seen him out of uniform, and she’d grudgingly admit he looked good in civilian clothing as well. The sun was just setting outside, and now that he was in the barn, he pulled off his aviator shades to reveal those crystal blue eyes. Amazing blue eyes that were focused on her.
“Couldn’t be business seeing that he’s not in his sheriff uniform.” Cassie returned her attention to Stella, pointedly ignoring the newcomers.
“I’ll be at the bunkhouse,” Mac said. “I smoked some barbecue ribs this morning, and I’d invite you over, Cassie, but I’m under strict orders from Mr. Stratford about your special diet. He called, by the way, saying that he’d be swinging by to drop off your meal for tonight.”
Cassie’s jaw dropped as she swung her head toward Mac.
So she focused all her energy into becoming everything he didn’t want—aggressive and far from sweet. It was who she was anyway.
*****
“There, girl, I wish I could ride you,” Cassie whispered to her favorite mare, Stella, whose fancy name was Royal Estelle V. The Arabian neighed softly, extending her neck from the 12x12 stall and nuzzled Cassie’s cheek. Ever since the incident on Route 623, it had been decided that the twins shouldn’t wander around the ranch. There were cameras installed in the immediate vicinity but not on the horse trails. They had finally made contact with Colt and Matt, who were due back on the ranch in two weeks. They were wrapping up an operation that was related to the Chrysalis black op project, and Colt indicated he had some news. This was making Cassie antsy. A few months ago, there’d been shaky evidence that Piper was alive. No information on Kate. A tightness gripped her chest, borne of unprocessed grief or maybe guilt. The guilt of leaving someone behind. Stella nudged her again, seemingly wanting to absorb her pain. It wasn’t on a whim that Arabian horses were chosen as companions for the Chrysalis survivors. Cassie felt an affinity with these amazing creatures. They were high-spirited and alert and had historically been used in war. Much like she had been.
Montgomery Ranch boasted a 200-acre expanse of natural landscape. There was grazing land, equine trails with a variety of native plants and trees, and granite rock outcroppings. A spring-fed creek ran along the line of the property. It was a small breeding operation for Arabians with four stallions and six mares, consisting of a twenty-four stall barn, a bunkhouse, a ranch house and an annex, an indoor and outdoor training arena, and various paddocks around the ranch. A seemingly legitimate business. It was all a front. Colt knew fuck-all about breeding horses and neither did Cassie and Lucas, although they did know their way around the animals, including their care and maintenance.
Mac and their four permanent ranch hands kept the breeding program going. All of them were ex-military and vetted by no less than the CIA. Visitors coming in under the guise of buyers were really agents having downtime, frequently from an injury or who needed time to regroup after a particularly traumatic mission. They usually stayed at the annex—another ranch-style structure behind the main house. The duration of their stay lasted a week to a month.
Voices and footfalls broke through her thoughts. Mac’s and ... He had some audacity showing up here.
Trent.
“What are you doing here?” She glared at him before transferring her displeasure to Mac. “Why did you allow him through the gates?”
“Said he had business with you.” The ranch caretaker shrugged.
“G’afternoon, Cassandra,” Trent greeted in a sexy drawl. There he went calling her by her full name, and she’d admit she liked hearing those syllables roll off his deep, bass voice. He was wearing a snug white tee, well-worn jeans, and military boots. It was the first time she had seen him out of uniform, and she’d grudgingly admit he looked good in civilian clothing as well. The sun was just setting outside, and now that he was in the barn, he pulled off his aviator shades to reveal those crystal blue eyes. Amazing blue eyes that were focused on her.
“Couldn’t be business seeing that he’s not in his sheriff uniform.” Cassie returned her attention to Stella, pointedly ignoring the newcomers.
“I’ll be at the bunkhouse,” Mac said. “I smoked some barbecue ribs this morning, and I’d invite you over, Cassie, but I’m under strict orders from Mr. Stratford about your special diet. He called, by the way, saying that he’d be swinging by to drop off your meal for tonight.”
Cassie’s jaw dropped as she swung her head toward Mac.
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