Ms. Longshot. Sylvie Kurtz
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want you to go undercover at the stable where she trains.” Renee tilted her head. “As a groom.”
“Excuse me?” I had to have heard wrong. Renee wanted me to go undercover as a groom? Just what had she put in her tea?
“You heard me.”
Needing to gather my wits, I picked up my teacup, but it never made it to my lips. I plunked the cup back on its saucer. “You want me to shovel manure? How’s that going to help protect Leah?”
Renee studied me, then lifted both eyebrows and a shoulder in a gesture of dismissal. “I told the Governess this wasn’t a good idea. With your leg, you can’t possibly be expected to perform such hard physical labor.”
“Wait a minute. This has nothing to do with my leg.” I slid to the edge of the chair caught between wanting to tell Renee what she could do with her condescending attitude and fighting for my first real assignment. I hadn’t realized how badly I needed her approval until now. “You don’t want me here. You never have.”
“That’s not true. The trouble with you, Alexa, is that you have no concept of the limits of your skills and that makes you dangerous. You think you can do everything. Everyone needs help. And I don’t want to see you, or any of my girls, hurt.”
Hurt? She was thinking of Emma. But the situations were different. Renee hadn’t even given me the chance to chip a nail. The last assignment had relied more on my understanding of avionics and electronics systems produced by my father’s defense-contracting business than on physical prowess.
I rode again after the doctors told me I never would. I survived the brutal training I’d gone through with Emma, Chloe and Becca. I ran the business side of my foundation without anyone there knowing about my handicap. My chin crept up and my back got stiff with steel. “I can do anything as well as anyone else.”
The tilt of Renee’s smile widened. “You’re proving my point.”
I strangled the linen napkin in one fist. Control, Alexa. Get yourself under control. If I didn’t watch out, I’d blow this. I had to make Renee realize there was more to me than my missing lower leg, and the only way I could think to do that was to put her on the spot. “Why did you ask me to join the agency if you have no faith in my ability?”
“You have many outstanding abilities,” Renee said so silkily that I could feel my ruffled feathers smoothing. Her gaze didn’t waver—almost as if she’d expected this flak from me and had her side of the argument ready to deflect anything I could throw at her.
“We brought you in,” she said, “because you know your way around a business statement in several languages. You have access to the defense industry through your father. You have connections with several highly placed branches of society both in New York and in London. And you, more than any of the other girls, can physically alter your looks to fit any situation.”
“But…” I said and waited for Renee to fill the space. There was always a damned but.
“Your blinders get in the way. I can’t give you a field assignment if I feel I’ll be putting you in physical danger.”
“We’re back to the leg thing again.” Didn’t everything in my life come back to that blasted leg? If it didn’t matter to me, why should it matter to anyone else?
“No, you’re back to the leg thing again. You made it through training. You’ve proved you can cope with your handicap.” There was actual warmth in Renee’s voice as if she really did admire what I’d overcome. She reached for my hand and squeezed it gently. “It’s your impetuous tendency that worries me. You grow impatient, you bend the rules and look for the shortcut. There’s no place for that in the field. Not when there’s so much at stake. Think of it as dressage. Everything has to be precise or you put the whole operation at risk.”
“Wait,” I said, pulling back, confused by Renee’s simultaneous praise and excoriation. “You said you were sending me to work as a groom.”
“Then you took offense and didn’t let me get to the second part of your mission.”
Second part of the mission? Man, I was burning bridges before I even got a foot on them. This was the one thing I kept forgetting about Renee: how good she was at manipulating people to do exactly what she wanted. Now I couldn’t refuse the assignment without coming across as a self-pitying spoiled brat.
“I’m sorry.” I shrugged. “It’s just a groom isn’t exactly what I’d had in mind when I’d thought of an undercover assignment.”
“In this case, it’s the best means for you to gather information on the owners and workers at the Ashcroft Equestrian Center. Grooms are easily overlooked, yet people tend to speak freely around them because the stables are a relaxing environment.”
Okay, so this was a test. If I could prove to Renee I could do this, then next time she’d give me something as glamorous as she’d given Porsche Rothschild. I still couldn’t believe an airhead like Porsche had gotten to protect the actor Jeremy Reins as her first assignment. She’d even gone to the Oscars!
“You’ve heard of Firewall?”
I nodded, grateful Renee hadn’t completely written me off yet. Firewall was a seventeen-hand high fire-red chestnut that loved to jump and made it look easy. Whispers of Olympic gold floated around him. All he needed was a few more years of seasoning and he could be a real contender. “Firewall is a jumper owned by Hardel Industries.”
“With his major competitors out of the picture, Firewall comes out as a favorite to take over the summer season.”
“Killing to win seems redundant when you have such great horseflesh to do all the work for you.”
Renee lifted a shoulder. “Hardel Industries has put a lot of their advertising dollars into promoting Firewall. The more often he makes headlines, the more often the company does. You can’t buy that kind of publicity. They can’t afford to lose him. Do you know Ross Hardel?”
“I know who he is.” I’d met him over ten years ago when his trainer had insisted he improve his seat by taking some dressage lessons. He’d been an arrogant twit then and, if Rubi Cho’s gossip column was to be believed, he hadn’t changed. Treachery required hard work and Ross Hardel had never liked to work up a sweat. Of course, maybe bumping off the competition was the easiest way for him to win.
“Would he recognize you?” Renee asked.
“I doubt it. We don’t run in the same circle.” Nor was I the type of woman likely to be photographed clinging to his elbow. He preferred blond Barbie-dolls with IQs smaller than their bustlines. Of course, I’m sure he wasn’t seeking intelligent conversation from them.
“Perfect,” Renee chirped. “Since both Waldo, Leah Siegel’s horse, and Firewall are the top two candidates to become the Horse Ripper’s next victim, your job is to make sure nothing happens to them and to report any information you glean about who might have a stake at seeing the competition eliminated.”
A secretary who shoveled shit—definitely not what I had in mind when I asked for excitement. Still I put on my best obedient agent face. “That’s going to be tough if I’m stuck cleaning stalls while Ross and Leah are hobnobbing poolside.”
“Which is why you’re to accept any invitation from Ross Hardel.”
Oh, God, no. I didn’t think I could stand being around that that arrogant prick for five minutes. Being pawed by a pervert was not my idea of fun. Or having him feel my prosthesis and shrink back in disgust. “This guy has a reputation for being a cad.”
“And a reputation for a fondness for stable girls. That gives you an in at keeping tabs on him and who might want to do his horse harm.”
My fork snapped through the scone and plinked on the gold-trimmed plate. “I certainly hope you’re not expecting me to sleep with him!” I didn’t need this assignment that badly. “Your