Legions (Georgia Smoke #7)

Two

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I’d been living in blissful ignorance.

Capri

The stables were busy when we arrived. Thatcher wanted me to take out Bloodline this morning to see if I could shave off time from what Carmen, the other jockey Shephard’s Stables, used, was clocking. Shortly after arriving, Thatcher had been called to his father’s office. While I waited on him, I made my rounds visiting with the thoroughbreds, spoke with Miller, the lead trainer at Shephard Stables, and went out to watch our newest exercise rider take Pharaoh around the track. When Thatcher still hadn’t returned, I decided to make my way out to speak with the new rider.

I hadn’t met him yet officially. I’d only seen him from a distance. When Christopher, the best exercise rider they had, left for another job, they didn’t hire anyone right away to take his place. I kind of thought they were waiting for him to return, but after a couple of months, he hadn’t, and someone else had finally been hired to take his place. Sebastian had seemed happy about the new guy when I’d spoken to him at Maeme’s during Sunday brunch. Thatcher had said little about him but that was typical. Unlike his younger brother, he was a harsher critic.

From listening to Miller discuss him, I knew his name was Rog, and he’d retired from races three years ago after a leg injury. I had expected him to be older. When I saw how young he was, I felt bad for him. His career had been cut short. He couldn’t be more than thirty.

“Hello,” I said, smiling with my greeting. “We haven’t met, and I wanted to come out and introduce myself.”

The guy’s grin was instant. “No, we have not. I’d remember a face like yours,” he said, holding out his hand and stepping closer than necessary.

I started to reach out to shake his hand when Miller shouted his name, causing his head to swing around toward the sound. Looking over his shoulder, I saw Miller walking at a faster than usual pace toward us with a stern expression on his face. What had the new guy done to piss him off?

Rog glanced back at me with a shrug and a crooked grin. “Didn’t know he got testy.” He joked.

I didn’t react to his remark because Miller didn’t get angry easily. This was out of character. I just couldn’t think of what Rog could have done to get this reaction out of him.

“ROG!” he shouted his name again, and the jockey’s eyebrows shot up before he turned to face Miller completely as he drew closer. Stalking like he was hell-bent on a mission.

“Yeah?” Rog replied with confusion in his tone.

“I need you in the stables, NOW!” Miller barked at him.

Rog started to look back at me but stopped when Miller shouted his name again. He tensed up.

“I SAID NOW!”

“Uh, okay, yeah, jeez,” he muttered, not saying anything more as he started walking away.

Miller’s glare shifted to me; it softened although there was concern in them, and then he nodded his head before waiting on Rog and following him back to the stables.

That was bizarre. Shaking my head, I looked over at Jim, one of the stable hands, who had Pharoah leading him out of the gate. He gave me a tight smile but immediately dropped his gaze as if looking at me was the last thing he wanted to do.

Was everyone uptight today?

Deciding it was best if I just went back to the lounge room inside to wait on Thatcher, I went in the direction that Miller and Rog had just taken. They were too far ahead that I couldn’t hear them, but my curiosity got the better of me. I could ask Thatcher what he knew, or I could stop being noisy. This wasn’t my business.

Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my cell phone and checked my text messages. Staring down at the last one my mother had sent, I reread it but didn’t respond. I wasn’t sure how to. We had tried to find a way to communicate or have a relationship, but as long as my parents were against my relationship with Thatcher, I didn’t see it happening. Her last text hadn’t mentioned him, but it had been an attempt at manipulation.

So many people have asked about you. Worried about me. They can’t understand this rift between us. It would ease many minds if you’d attend a service. Think of how it makes our family look. Your father is looked up to. Respected and his daughter is making everyone question the health of our family unit.

I rolled my eyes. That was my mother, for you. Her only concern was appearance—what others thought. She seemed to think our family was important enough for folks to sit and think about, but I highly doubted this was ever the case.

Not today, Mom. I’ll deal with you another time. Perhaps in a week when I’m not annoyed as much. I slipped my phone back into my pocket and walked inside the stables. Nemesis immediately stuck his head out of the stall and looked my way. He was ready to stretch his legs and run. I could see it in his eyes. I hoped Miller was planning on letting Rog take him out next.

I started to turn toward the lounge when I heard Miller’s voice. Not wanting to eavesdrop, I continued until I heard my name. Why was he talking about me? It took me two seconds to battle with my moral code before I went toward the sound of his voice. It wasn’t wrong if you were the topic of conversation. Right?

“She hadn’t said her name,” Rog said, sounding defensive. “I wasn’t aware it was her. Jesus, you’re really making this a bigger deal than it was.”

“No!” Miller hissed. “You do not understand. When I told you that Capri was off limits to even look at or breathe her air, it wasn’t a joke. It was a warning.”

I frowned, waiting for an explanation.

“Okay, yeah. I got it. But she approached me. I didn’t break any rules.”

“It does not matter!” Miller’s tone sounded almost frantic. “You get paid so damn much for a reason. And if you stay the fuck away from Capri, then you have no worries. But the last full-time exercise rider, we had made a mistake in which she was concerned, and Thatcher shot him for it.”

Blood left my face as I stood there frozen.

“What?” Rog asked, his voice raising an octave.

“You heard me. Christopher took the wrong riding crop by accident. He picked up Capri’s. That caused a chain of events that led to her walking in on Thatcher with another woman. She ran. Thatcher shot Christopher for his mistake. Right out there. He didn’t kill him. But he required surgery, physical therapy, and he can no longer ride race horses safely.”

“Jesus Christ,” Rog replied, sounding as horrified as I was.

“And Les, one of our former stable hands, accidentally touched her. Didn’t mean to. Thatcher sliced off his finger.”

Nausea rolled through me. I covered my mouth with a trembling hand, unable to walk away. I didn’t want to hear more. I prayed that there wasn’t more.

“I won’t tell you what happened to another stable hand. He made the mistake of flirting with her. Took her out on a date. I don’t even know the details, but I do know the kid is messed up for life. So, when I tell you to stay the fuck away from Capri Jewel, I mean it.”

Miller had to be talking about JB. I thought he quit. What had Thatcher done to him? WHY? We weren’t together then. I was going to be sick. There was movement in the tack room where they were, and I forced my legs to move before Miller saw me. My breaths had become shallow. I needed air. I rushed to the nearest exit.

The bright sun beat down on my face, and I sucked in the warmth as if it could ease any of this. I didn’t stop. The need to run began to claw at me. My waves of nausea, however, kept me from breaking into a sprint. Distance, I had to get distance from what all I’d just heard. From the stables. From everything.

I knew Thatcher was prone to have violent reactions to things. But I hadn’t known, I didn’t realize the extent or that it was still happening. I thought about Les and couldn’t even think of a time that he touched me. And Christopher, he’d accidentally taken my crop. That did not deserve getting shot.

A cold sweat broke out over my skin, and I shivered, although the morning chill had faded. I’d been living in blissful ignorance. Seeing nothing but the Thatcher that loved me. It was hard for me to see the same man who couldn’t stand the sight of a mark on my body to be so savage. He sliced off Less’s finger, for god sake.

My stomach rolled again, and I had just enough time to grab my hair before I bent over to vomit. My eyes watering as I heaved three times before it let up. I closed my eyes and put my hands on my knees for a moment, making sure I was done before straightening.

When I opened them, I looked out over the acres and acres of Shephard property. Accepting who and what they were had been one thing. But understanding that I was in love with a man who could be so brutally violent and not feel remorse or guilt… what did that say about me? I was the one who loved him, slept in his bed, in his arms. Opened my legs for him anytime he wanted me, and I craved it.

“Capri,” Sebastian’s voice called out, and I winced. I didn’t want to talk to him or anyone. Not right now. His footsteps drew closer, and I couldn’t mask this. I wasn’t okay. Pretending I was wouldn’t be possible. I had blood on my hands. I hadn’t done the deeds, but I had been the cause of them. A man without a finger, one who had permanent damage in his shoulder, and god… what had he done to JB? Messed him up for life?

“Hey,” Sebastian was behind me now. “You okay?”

No, Sebastian. I was so far from it that I didn’t know what that was anymore.

“Why did Less quit?” I asked, not looking at him. I wanted to see how deep the lies went. How far they would go to cover for him. How much had been kept from me.

“What did you hear?” Sebastian’s tone was tense. There weren’t two brothers who could be any more different.

“That Thatcher sliced off his finger for touching me.”

“Shit,” Sebastian muttered the word. He’d been hoping I still lived in ignorance. A part of me did too. It was easier. My little bubble of happiness. The one where my Prince Charming isn’t a psychopath.

“And Christopher,” I said.

“He didn’t slice any of Christopher’s body parts,” Sebastian said quickly.

“But he shot him.”

“In the shoulder. He’s fine. Alive and well. We got him an excellent job at a stable north of Atlanta.”

He defended him so easily. That brother bond was strong, but I knew that King, Storm, and even Wells would do the same—come to his defense, act as if his actions weren’t insane. It was what they did. They were all joined together in this life, one that I didn’t truly understand, it seemed.

“But he can’t race anymore,” I said, feeling the guilt weigh heavier on my chest, to the point that it hurt to breathe.

Sebastian let out a heavy sigh. He had no defense for that. No way to make it sound better. Because there wasn’t one. “He was compensated. He doesn’t even have to work again if he doesn’t want to. There is no mortgage on his home.”

I shook my head. Money didn’t fix everything. “But that doesn’t make it better.”

“I know.”

At least he admitted it.

“What did he do to JB?” I asked.

Silence. I closed my eyes as horrific scenarios assaulted me. Taunting me.

“He’s alive. He’s fine. Taken care of,” Sebastian’s voice held a trace of unease.

A tear rolled down my cheek, and I wiped it away. “Why? Why does he react like that? The man I love. The one I wake up to every day, that isn’t him.”

Sebastian blew out a breath. He’d grown up with him. Seen him at his worst.

“Thatcher is complicated. But Capri, you know that. You’ve seen it. You were warned.”

I turned around to look at him. “Warned? No, Sebastian. No one ever told me that he had done something to JB or shot Christopher. Both things happened before we got together. Yet I didn’t know about it.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “Would it have stopped you from loving him? That’s what it boils down to, isn’t it? Would it have kept you from falling in love with my brother had you known?”

Thatcher’s face as we stared at each other in the mirror this morning came back to me. The vulnerability in his eyes when he looked at me while he was inside me. His arms and how safe and content I was with them wrapped around me.

“No. I don’t think anything could have stopped that. But what does that say about me? How selfish, twisted, and dark must I be to love a man to the point of obsession who can do those things to others? Has done those things. Because of me.”

“Capri!” Thatcher’s voice made me jump as I swung my eyes from Sebastian to his brother. He was walking toward us in quick, long strides. His body strung tight.

“I know it doesn’t sound like it, but you make him better. You calm him,” Sebastian said quietly.

I wanted to ask how I did that when he was slicing off fingers and shooting men over me. But he was too close.

Sebastian turned and headed toward his brother while I watched them.

The thought of a life without Thatcher was unbearable, but how could I when his loving me was dangerous to everyone I came in contact with?