Kill for a Million

Book 3: Rivalries

by Janet Dailey

Genres: Sports Romance; Romantic Suspense; Western Romance

Synopsis

For one prestigious Texas ranching family still reeling from the murder of their powerful patriarch, the aftershocks continue amid the most prized reining event of the year —and so does the infighting and scandalous romance from legendary author Janet Dailey!

Frank Culhane’s murder remains unsolved while his widow, Lila, is still battling to keep her beloved ranch from the grasp of his embittered first wife and grown children. As for arresting Frank’s killer, time is running out for Detective Sam Rafferty to prove himself and save his career, and for his number one suspect—and Lila’s lover—Culhane ranch manager Roper McKenna, to prove his innocence. Both men are staking their fates on the outcome of the imminent reining event of the year: the Run for a Million.

Roper’s dream of riding in Run for a Million is finally coming true. And for his struggling family, the million-dollar prize will mean everything. He’ll be competing on borrowed stallion Fire Dance, with Lila’s legendary stallion, One in a Million, as one of his backups. For now, only winning matters. But suddenly, even that is in jeopardy . . .

On the road, a huge semi almost sideswipes Roper’s truck and horse trailer. He just manages to save the rig from rolling, but the horses are severely shaken. Was it an accident, or an attempt to sabotage Roper—or to kill Lila, who was supposed to have accompanied him?

Meanwhile, others are in turmoil of their own. There’s Sam’s clandestine affair with Lila’s pampered stepdaughter—and murder suspect—Jasmine; dangerous information Jasmine has about her mother; and a long-buried secret Roper’s sister harbors that could explode the Culhane dynasty. Then there is the sole witness to Frank’s murder—a witness who can’t speak, but may have a one in a million chance at revealing the truth . . .

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 304

Sample

U.S. Interstate 40, mid-August

The midday sun glimmered on the surface of the freeway, creating mirages that evaporated like water with the changing light. Heat shimmered in gossamer waves above the moving traffic. Beyond the ribbon of asphalt, the Arizona desert spread like a sea of brush and cactus, all the way to the distant hills.

Roper McKenna kept his hands on the wheel and his gaze fixed on the road. This was no time for wandering thoughts. The Dodge Ram 3500 truck was towing precious cargo.

Inside the luxury-class trailer, emblazoned with the Culhane Ranch logo, three valuable performance horses were on their way to the biggest show in the country—the Run for a Million reining event in Las Vegas. Millie, a gifted young filly, and One in a Million, a semi-retired champion, were the backup horses. Fire Dance, the competition horse, was a flashy bundle of nervous energy. If that energy could be controlled, the flame-red stallion had the talent to carry Roper to a million-dollar victory—a prize that would be split with Fire Dance’s owner, rancher Chet Barr.

Roper had promised himself that, for the week ahead, he would put his worries aside and focus on the competition. But it wasn’t easy to forget that he was the prime suspect in the murder of his former employer, wealthy rancher Frank Culhane—or that he’d fallen hard for his new boss, Frank’s sexy, spirited widow, Lila.

Lila had planned to make this trip with him. But she was back home in Texas, recovering from snakebite under the care of her daughter. When—and if—Lila felt strong enough, the two women would be flying to Vegas for the big show. Roper worried about her; but for now, even that concern would have to be put aside.

In Lila’s place, Roper had brought along his twenty-year-old half sister. Cheyenne was easy company, but they hadn’t talked much on the long drive. They were both preoccupied with their own thoughts.

A petite, dark-haired beauty, Cheyenne was already a celebrity rodeo star. But she was weary of the rodeo life and eager to try a new sport—cow cutting. Hayden Barr, the son of Fire Dance’s owner, would be competing in this year’s cutting event. He’d offered to take her behind the scenes to meet the riders and see the horses—maybe even find one to buy. Roper could sense her anticipation—but was it for the horses, or was it for Hayden?

“Hungry?” he asked her. “We’ll be taking the off-ramp to Highway 93 at Kingman. We could stop for burgers.”

“No, let’s keep going,” she said. “After the horses are unloaded, we can get a good dinner in Vegas. We should be there in a couple of hours.”

“Your choice.” Roper checked his mirrors, signaled, and moved into the outside lane for access to the off-ramp, coming up in a few miles. The freeway here was edged with a sloping embankment that dropped off to the right. A gravel strip and a cable barricade along the shoulder provided a measure of safety. All the same, Roper gave himself plenty of room. With three precious horses in the trailer, he couldn’t be too careful.

A glance in the side mirror warned him of the massive semitruck with a green Peterbilt cab approaching from behind in the lane to his left. Roper held steady in the outside lane. The semi had plenty of room to pass him. The driver wasn’t even honking the horn. But the huge truck was coming up fast and close—too close.

Roper’s pulse slammed. A warning screamed in his head. The bastard was about to sideswipe him.

The horses! God, the horses …

As the huge rig came up even with the trailer and began to cut over, Roper floored the gas pedal and swung onto the shoulder. The barrier cable snapped as a wheel broke over the rim of the embankment. He could feel the crumbling edge as he kept moving forward, pulling the horse trailer along the shoulder.

He felt the sickening shift of weight and the strain on the gooseneck hitch as the edge crumbled under the outside wheels. Metal screamed as the giant rig roared past, gouging a crease on the side of the truck and back along the length of the trailer.

In the next instant, the semi moved on to vanish amid the heavy traffic. The truck and horse trailer were left with their outside wheels jutting over the embankment.

Roper glanced at Cheyenne. She hadn’t cried out, but her face was deathly white. She tugged at her seat belt. “The horses—”

“Stay put! We can’t open that trailer till we get to a safe place.”

“What if we roll?”

Roper shook his head. “There’s nothing we can do for them here. I’m going to try to pull us back onto the road. Don’t move or try to get out. Just tighten your seat belt and lean toward me. If we start to go over, pull up your knees and protect your face.”

The truck’s engine had stalled when the semi cut past them. Cheyenne leaned left over the console to help balance the weight and willed herself to keep perfectly still. The slightest motion could cause the rig to tip. She pictured the forty-five-degree slope of the embankment and the twenty-foot distance to the bottom. Even if she and Roper survived the rollover, the horses wouldn’t. They would be tossed around and hurt so badly that they would almost certainly have to be put down. But Roper was right. Any effort to help them here would only worsen the odds of a crash.

She held her breath as Roper applied the hand brake, shifted into neutral, and turned the key in the ignition. What would they do if the truck wouldn’t start? Freeze in place? Wait for help and pray that the rig didn’t tumble down the slope?

The starter cranked. The engine coughed and started. Cheyenne took a deep breath. At least they had power. But they were still in danger. The wheels that remained on level ground had to find enough purchase to move the truck off the edge of the embankment. And the engine needed enough torque to pull the heavy trailer to safety.

Beads of perspiration stood out on Roper’s face as he geared down, released the hand brake, and eased the gas pedal to the floor. The engine roared. The wheels spun, and the truck teetered, straining against the sagging weight of the trailer.

Cheyenne tried to remember the prayers her mother, Rachel, had taught her as a child, but she didn’t have her mother’s faith. She could only brace against the dash, her lips forming one word, please … please … again and again.

Suddenly, as if by a miracle, the wheels caught the solid surface. The truck crawled forward. The gooseneck hitch groaned as the trailer was dragged, inch by inch, back onto level ground.

Cheyenne began to breathe again. They were all right. But what about the horses?

“Stay put.” Roper’s voice rasped with emotion as he guessed her intent. “We can’t check the horses till we get off the freeway.”

“Yes, I know.” Cheyenne sat up. As her thundering pulse slowed, she remembered the looming semitruck, the shock of impact, and the screech of crumpling metal. She put up a hand and felt the sore spot on her head. It was tender, but nothing to worry about now.

“That big truck had plenty of room. The driver didn’t need to move over.” She took a deep breath. “He didn’t even honk. That wasn’t an accident, was it?”

Roper’s only response was a shake of his head. What wasn’t he telling her? Why would someone want to harm them—even kill them?

Looking through the windshield, Cheyenne could see a flashing light. A highway patrol cruiser had pulled in front of them, blocking the flow of traffic from the outside lane. The trooper was motioning Roper to follow him.

Roper pulled into the lane behind the cruiser. There were no thumping noises to indicate a flat tire or damaged wheel, which was good. But all Cheyenne could think about was the horses. Even if they weren’t badly hurt, they would be terrified. She lowered the side window and listened, trying to hear them kicking and screaming through the high window slots in the trailer. But the traffic noise and the laboring truck engine muffled any sounds she might have heard.

They reached the exit and followed the cruiser down the off-ramp, into the empty corner of a Walmart parking lot. The trooper parked, climbed out of the cruiser, and motioned Roper into a space with plenty of room around it.

The truck came to a stop. Cheyenne unfastened her seat belt and jumped to the ground. She could hear the horses now, snorting, shrilling, and slamming against the sides of their confining boxes. She reached for the bolt that secured the rear door. There was no way the horses could be let out of the trailer here. But at least she could check on them.

“Wait, Cheyenne. Don’t open the door without me.” Roper was on the ground, talking with the trooper as they inspected the damage to the rig. The long crease was ugly, but it hadn’t penetrated the steel skin of the truck or trailer.

“I’ll give you a permit to drive with the damage.” The trooper was filling out a form on a clipboard. “We’ll be on the lookout for that green Peterbilt that sideswiped you. Too bad you didn’t get a license number.”

“It was all I could do to keep the rig on the shoulder,” Roper said. “But that semi had plenty of room to pass—a clear lane next to me. The driver cut over with no warning and tried to push me past the edge. Did you see it happen?”

The patrolman stared at him. “No. I came along after the damage was done. If you’re saying it was deliberate, you’re talking attempted murder.”

“That’s the idea. But I don’t believe it was personal. The driver was more likely a hired hit man. If you catch the bastard, I’ll want to know who paid him. Thanks for your help, Officer. You have my cell phone number. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to look after these horses.”

As the cruiser drove away, Cheyenne turned to face her brother. “What’s going on, Roper?” she demanded. “If somebody was trying to kill us, I need to know about it.”

“This has nothing to do with you, Little Sister.” Roper turned away and walked back toward the rear of the trailer. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it handled.”

Roper unfastened the lock and slid back the bolt at the base of the door. Cheyenne could hear the horses slamming against the sides of their stalls and whinnying in distress. She stood back, watching as the door rolled upward and daylight flooded the inside of the trailer.

The three horses were wild-eyed, snorting and bucking in their stalls. Their fear tore at Cheyenne’s heart. These innocent animals had no idea what had just happened to them. They had felt safe inside the trailer. Then they’d been flung violently to one side, their hooves scrambling for a hold on the slanted surface. No wonder they were terrified.

Roper knew better than to approach them. He kept his distance in the trailer, his expert gaze examining each horse for any visible sign of injury.

From where Cheyenne stood, the horses looked sound enough. But they would need close inspection by a vet once they were unloaded at South Point. Damage to the vital bones and tendons in their legs could be hard to spot at first. And there was no telling how long it would take for them to settle down and allow themselves to be examined.

Roper closed the door, walked back to the truck, and climbed into the driver’s seat. As she took her place beside him, Cheyenne sensed her brother’s dejection. He’d left the Culhane Ranch with high hopes of winning the Run for a Million on Saturday. If none of the horses he’d brought was fit to compete, the show would already be over for him.

But there was more. Even before the so-called accident, she’d noticed his somber expression and long silences. And she’d overheard what he was telling the highway patrolman—that the truck and trailer had been sideswiped deliberately.

Despite their age difference, she and Roper had always been close. But now he sat behind a wall of silence. What was wrong? And why wasn’t he telling her about it?

She got out her phone and began texting. Roper glanced at her, frowning.

“I hope you’re not telling our mother about this. She’ll only be worried.”

“I’m texting Hayden,” Cheyenne said. “He planned to meet us at the trailer entrance to South Point. I’m just letting him know we’ll be late. As for Mother, I don’t tell her anything. She fusses over me like an old biddy hen.” She imitated her mother’s voice. “Guard your honor, Cheyenne. Remember what the good book says—Who can find a virtuous woman, for her price is far above rubies. Good Lord, you’d think this was the 1800s!”

“Mother means well,” Roper said. “You’re her only daughter. She wants to protect you.”

“I’m a rodeo girl, Big Brother. I know how to protect myself, especially from cowboys.”

“And Hayden?” Roper’s voice had taken on a teasing tone.

Cheyenne hesitated. She hadn’t spent much time with Hayden Barr, but she liked him. He was handsome, from a good family, and seemed genuinely nice. He’d even promised to introduce her to cutting competition and offered to help her get the training she needed.

But past experience had taught her not to accept anyone at face value. Until she knew Hayden better, she would proceed with caution. Only if she felt completely safe would she give him her trust.

Roper was waiting for her reply.

“I’m giving it time,” she said. “For now, that’s all I can tell you.”

It was a sensible answer, from a good place inside her. Still, when she thought of Hayden, she felt a prickle of unease. From the depths of her memory, a voice whispered a warning—one she had learned to heed.

Danger … don’t assume that anything is what it seems.

FBI Agent Sam Rafferty surveyed the main arena of the South Point Equestrian Center. This afternoon, a Tuesday, the seats were empty. But in the days and nights ahead, fans would be swarming in to watch trainers and non-pro riders show their horses in bucking, cutting, herding, and reining competitions.

The last and biggest reining event of the week, the Run for a Million, was scheduled for Saturday night. By then, it would be up to Sam to have someone—most likely Roper McKenna—under arrest for the cold-blooded murder of Frank Culhane.

Nick Bellingham, Sam’s boss at the Bureau in Abilene, had given Sam one final week to solve the case. Succeed, and he would be solidly in line for Nick’s job. Fail, and the blot on his record would haunt the rest of his career.

The hell of it was, Sam liked Roper and had trusted him enough to let him come here and compete. After all, the man was innocent until proven guilty. But Sam had a job to do. And Roper, despite his sworn claim of innocence, had opportunity, means, and motive in spades.

The opportunity would have come easily. At any time, even in the middle of the night, Roper could have invented an excuse to lure Frank into the stable where the murder had taken place. Roper’s only alibi had been furnished by his mother, who claimed he’d been at home all night. But mothers could lie, and they often did.

Roper worked with horses and would’ve had no trouble getting his hands on the 18-gauge hypodermic that had injected a fatal dose of fentanyl into the back of his wealthy boss’s neck. The hypodermic, already identified as the murder weapon, had been found by two young boys in the creek that ran past the McKenna Ranch.

As for motive, Roper had two reasons to commit murder. Frank’s death had freed him to win his late boss’s place in the Run for a Million. And now Roper was evidently sleeping with Frank’s glamorous widow, Lila.

The case looked like an easy win. But there was a problem. Every shred of evidence against Roper was circumstantial. If the case came to trial, a smart lawyer would have a good chance of getting an acquittal. If Sam failed to find proof that would hold up in court, he would be forced to walk away, leaving the high-profile case unsolved.

Of course, there was always the chance that someone else was guilty. Lila herself was not above suspicion. Neither was Frank’s ex-wife, Madeleine, the mother of his two children, Darrin and Jasmine. Darrin and his wife, Simone, were determined to inherit Frank’s house and ranch. And Madeleine, rumored to have mob connections, would do anything to help them. Sam would be remiss to rule out any of them.

An eyewitness would be a godsend. But only one pair of eyes had seen the violent crime that ended Frank Culhane’s life—the eyes of Frank’s prize stallion, One in a Million. Horses were sensitive, intelligent animals. The murder would be buried in the big bay roan’s memory for as long as he lived. But the stallion would keep the secret.

After checking the time, Sam took an exit from the arena to the open lot where Roper was expected to arrive with the horses. Sam would be keeping an eye on him. He would also be questioning anyone who might have light to shed on the murder case. He didn’t relish collecting dirt on a man he’d come to respect. But he’d sworn an oath to perform his job.

Not that he’d kept to the tenets of that oath, Sam reminded himself. Falling in love with Frank’s daughter, Jasmine, had been a serious breach of conduct—especially since Jasmine was still on his list of suspects. That was why they’d put their relationship on hold until this case was closed. Sam was getting impatient to hold her in his arms again. But he couldn’t let that guide his decisions now.

Between the trailer lot and the arena, the complex of sheds, docks, and cattle pens swarmed with activity. Trucks were rolling through the Pyle Avenue gate, lining up their trailers to be unloaded. Horses snorted and whinnied. Cows bawled. Country music blared from a hidden speaker. The torrid Las Vegas air smelled of dust, diesel fumes, and manure.

Sam had transferred to cowboy country from a job in Chicago. Today he was dressed in faded denims and a plaid shirt, complete with boots and a Stetson. But he was still a city man, and this milieu felt as alien as a planet scene from Star Wars.

He found a strip of shade against the immense barn and settled back to watch and wait. Someone else appeared to be waiting, too. It took a moment for Sam to place the dark-haired cowboy checking his phone nearby. Then he remembered seeing him at the Culhane Ranch, when he’d delivered the spectacular red stallion Roper would be showing. He was the son of the horse’s owner.

Sam had done his homework at the time. Hayden Barr was heir to a horse-breeding dynasty on a big ranch outside Wichita Falls. Since he had no possible connection to Frank Culhane’s murder, Sam had dismissed him from memory.

Now Hayden had turned toward the gate where the Culhane rig was driving in. Viewed from the front, everything looked fine. Only as the truck turned, swinging the trailer into view, did Sam see the ragged scrape, like the mark of a giant claw, that ran from the truck’s front wheel and along the trailer to the end. The damage had the look of a deliberate sideswipe—maybe with the intent to cause a fatal crash.

Something similar had happened to Lila Culhane weeks earlier when someone had tampered with her Porsche, causing a rollover that could have killed her. The so-called accident had been clumsily arranged by Lila’s stepson, Darrin, who’d been saved from arrest by his mother. Darrin was still out there and still scheming to get his father’s widow out of the way. Maybe this was another attempt.

But today, Sam could see that Lila wasn’t in the passenger seat. Instead, it was Roper’s younger sister, Cheyenne, opening the door and jumping to the ground.

Hayden strode toward the rig. Cheynne met him partway. They exchanged a few words as Roper backed the trailer into position and climbed out of the cab. Then they joined him at the rear of the trailer.

Sam watched from a distance, where he could see inside as Roper raised the rear door. Sam could imagine what he was thinking. The collision that damaged the trailer would have thrown the horses into a panic. Even if they weren’t physically injured, the high-strung animals might be too traumatized to perform.

The horses bucked and squealed, showing the whites of their eyes as Roper lowered the ramp. Motioning Cheyenne and Hayden back, he stepped into the trailer. He spoke to them in a soothing voice, but they continued to lunge at the sides of their boxes, as if they were fighting to break out of the trailer and bolt for freedom.

One in a Million was the steadiest of the three. Once Roper had clipped the lead rope onto his halter, the big bay roan allowed himself to be led, snorting, quivering, and eye-rolling, down the ramp and into vast barn where an air-conditioned stall would be waiting. Roper would give him a few minutes to settle down before coming back for the other horses.

Hayden and Cheyenne waited outside the trailer, talking and watching the horses. Sam weighed the idea of joining them and asking a few questions, but decided against it. Cheyenne had . . .