Her Tycoon to Tame
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She’d been abused. His gut muscles seized and rage blazed within him. “Who did this?”
The vet shook his head without taking his eyes from the animal. “Mean SOB who owned her. I hope the cops give him a taste of his own medicine. A billy club upside his head would be a nice touch.”
Hannah handed the lead rope to Jeb then eased around the horse without ever lifting her palm from the animal’s dull, scarred hide. Wyatt recognized the trick as one Sam had employed. By never losing contact, the horse always knew where you were and wouldn’t be startled.
“You know animal abusers get a slap on the wrist at best, Will.” Her frustration came through loud and clear even though she kept her tone low and even. “She doesn’t look good.”
“Nope. Not much to work with,” the vet replied. “She wouldn’t have lasted another week in that hellhole.”
Wyatt focused on the deep gouges and bloody fetlocks. Now that the fight had drained out of the mare her head hung low as if she were resigned to whatever came next and fighting took more energy than she possessed. She’d probably been a beauty once, but now she was nothing more than a broken shell. She looked ready to collapse. Her spirit seemed broken, her usefulness in doubt.
Like Sam.
The parallel was so strong it blindsided Wyatt. He hated to see anything or anyone turned into a victim trapped in a body that could no longer function or fight back. He turned to the vet who’d brought the animal. “You should have put her down.”
“Maybe. That’s Hannah’s call now.”
“Why prolong her misery? Ending her suffering would be more humane.”
Hannah bristled, agitating the mare into a side step. “Just because the owner is worthless doesn’t mean the animal is. Every life has value, including hers. Her teeth indicate she’s less than ten years old. There could be a lot of good years in her yet.”
“She’s debilitated, terrified and in pain,” Wyatt countered, his fists curling in frustration.
“If anyone can pull her through, Hannah can,” the vet said.
A muscle jumped in Wyatt’s jaw. The horse had been through hell, and someone had to find the compassion and make the executive decision to end her suffering. That someone was him, apparently.
“She’s probably disease-ridden and could infect the other horses. And after being abused this severely, her trust in man has likely been irrevocably broken.”
Hannah planted herself between Wyatt and the mare. She didn’t look like a spoiled daddy’s girl now. She resembled a mama grizzly passionately defending her cub. “You can’t write her off without giving her a chance.”
Her stormy gaze hit Wyatt with a fireball of pain, anger and frustration, the same emotions rumbling through him. The fight in her eyes would cause a lesser man to back down.
“Giving horses second chances is what I do, Wyatt. And if you’d done your research on the farm before you tossed around your money, you would realize it’s what you do now, too.”
Wyatt stiffened as the barb hit home. He couldn’t argue with facts. He’d delegated his research. The agent’s report hadn’t included anything about Sutherland Farm being a dumping ground for damaged animals, or Hannah Sutherland, who was going to make damned sure he paid for delegating.
“That right rear leg could be broken.”
Hannah didn’t even glance at it. “It’s cut deep from the hobbles. It looks like the brute bound her back legs so she couldn’t defend herself when he beat her. But from the way she’s bearing weight on it, it’s most likely superficial. I’ll run X-rays to confirm.”
“You mean you’ll run up expenses on a lost cause.”
She glared at him. “This isn’t about money. Find Your Center saves lives. It doesn’t destroy them unnecessarily.”
“What in the hell is Find Your Center?”
Irritation darkened her eyes to storm cloud gray and tightened the tendons running the length of her neck as she stuck out her chin, making the diamonds in her ears sparkle in the barn’s overhead lighting. If she’d been a guy, she probably would have punched him.
“Illustrating once again, Mr. Jacobs, you should have done your homework before your underhanded purchase.”
“There was nothing devious about my purchasing this farm. It was for sale. I bought it.”
She visibly reined in her temper, taking a deep breath then relaxing her tense muscles. “Sutherland Farm specializes in birth and rebirth.”
A bird swooped through the open barn door. The horse spooked and jumped sideways, its haunches knocking into Hannah. She stumbled. Wyatt instinctively sprang forward to catch her. His muscles bunched as he banded his arms around her and braced his thighs to keep them both from going down under the ragged, dancing hooves.
Her feet tangled with his as she scrambled for traction and shifted against him in ways that made him excruciatingly aware of the surprising firmness and strength beneath her curves.
“Are you all right?” he asked through a knotted jaw.
Her wary gaze locked with his. Her cheeks flushed and her lips parted. His pulse spiked and heat flooded him, proving he shared something he wanted no part of with the pampered princess.
Chemistry.
“I’m fine. Thank you. Release me. Please.” She planted her palms on his chest and pushed, broke his hold and backed away. Keeping an equally watchful eye on him, she circled to the opposite side of the horse.
“I’m sorry, Hannah,” Jeb said. “I have her now.”
“It’s okay, Jeb. My mistake,” she offered. “I know better than to turn my back on an unfamiliar animal.”
She flashed a brief look at Wyatt as if he were the animal in question, then she bent to reexamine the mare’s fetlock the way she’d done everything this morning—with a methodical thoroughness and attention to detail that had frustrated him in the lab because he’d suspected her of deliberately stalling as she checked and rechecked each sample and then meticulously packaged and charted each vial. Slow and steady was very likely her modus operandi and not just a passive-aggressive ploy to get under his skin.