Sweet and Salty (Marshall My Heart #1)

43. Chapter Forty-Three

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

L aura

I cross my arms over my chest and shift in my seat. “You’ve told me before that you were engaged. That’s not news and it doesn’t sound dangerous.” Though it explains a lot about why she’s trolling me.

“Let me explain. I met her eight years ago, when I was working as a vet. Working my ass off, driving to hell and back. I had never dated much. I was so focused on meeting the next milestone, but no matter how hard I worked, I never felt caught up. It was nearly impossible to pay off my student loans.” The words fall from his mouth like he’s popping moldy tiles off a bathroom wall. They land in my gut in the same way. “You were right all along. I’m a vet and a terrible liar. But that’s not the point of this story.”

The temperature in the kitchen drops almost ten degrees, which is ludicrous because I’ve already preheated the ovens. “Esme was different from anyone I’d known before. She never took no for an answer. Vivacious. Sexy. Narcissistic to the nth degree. My grandma had just died, and she was always so sad I’d never given her great-grandchildren.” He shakes his head. “I mean, Esme doesn’t have a maternal bone in her body, but it was nice to be wanted. I’d spent so long feeling alone. I was stupid.”

I can’t breathe. It’s like the moment in the horror movie when you just know they shouldn’t go into the dark basement armed with only a dying flashlight.

He continues anyway. “She’d gotten divorced the year before. She was married to a man who paid for her every little desire. I was smitten, and whatever she asked for, I tried to give her. But she hated my job. I was always on the road, though she never minded my long hours. Her issue was that I didn’t make nearly enough money for her upkeep. I should have known. ” He snorts. “She had a solution for my financial woes, all of which were her doing. Her ex-husband knew some people at the Orange Valley racetrack, outside Ft. Lauderdale. He got me a job as a track vet. It was suspiciously well paid, but I was too grateful to look deeper. Besides, I loved it. I worked with horses every day, and at night I’d chauffeur Esme around town or the country. So what if I never felt like I fit in? I had someone. Someone who pretended to care. And maybe I knew that none of it was real, because I never pressed her to set a date. We got engaged after two years of being together, but actually getting married filled me with this deep sense of dread.”

He swallows and settles onto the stool beside me. “The longer I worked at the track, I realized something wasn’t right. Look, it’s hard work. There aren’t enough vets to go around. I did my best, but I always worried I was missing something. No matter how long I stayed or how many horses I examined, none of it made a difference. Animals were getting sick and injured far too frequently. I mean, it’s horse racing. It’s dangerous, but this was outside the norm. Esme and her ex tried to keep me distracted, but one day I walked in and saw him injecting this horse with a syringe.”

His nostrils flare in memory, and the pain is so palpable, I want to run my hand over his brow and soothe him. But I know it won’t help. Some memories never lose their edge, no matter how much love tries.

“She was beautiful,” he says. “Sweet, too, which not all Thoroughbreds are. Lacrimas del Corazon. I told him I’d report him, and he threatened me. He told me it was nothing, just Lasix, which is used all the time. But then Lacrimas was exercising the next day, just a breeze lap, and she collapsed.” His voice hitches, and my heart stops with his.

“Johnny Mack wanted me to cremate her, but I did an autopsy in secret. She tested positive for acepromazine. It’s a medication used to dope animals. Mobsters use it to fix races, and it killed Lacrimas.”

I cover his hand with mine, but wait, letting him tell his story.

“I had taken photos, and I’d kept the syringe and the toxicology report. Esme told me to let it go. She said he’d kill me if he found out. But I couldn’t not do it. It wasn’t fair to Lacrimas or any of the other horses who had been hurt. They were using me to hide their crimes. So I went to the police. I gave them everything, even all the photographs I had of me and Esme meeting with Johnny Mack, when Johnny was talking to some of the other mobsters.”

Oh. That’s where this is going. My heart pounds in my ears as my hands go numb.

Jesse looks up and holds my gaze. Today his eyes are a tarnished quicksilver, and I love him more than I had ever thought possible. “Laura, my real name is Jesse Vargas. I’m here in St. Olaf because I’m in witness protection. And if Esme has found you, I’m worried that you’re all in danger here.”