The Secret Brokers by Alexandrea Weis Read Free Book Online

already knowing the answer.
    “My father’s identity as a special witness for the prosecution has been kept a big secret up until this point. Now that the trial has begun, and the defense knows about my father’s testimony, Carl thinks Darryl Robertson will do anything to keep my father from getting on the witness stand. That’s why he insisted on sending a professional to babysit me until the trial is over. I do have minders, though, posted outside of my entrance gate.” She motioned to the gate. “Surprised you didn’t see them on the way in.”
    Dallas scanned the property and then directed his eyes back to the entrance gate. “I didn’t see any other cars out front,” he mentioned, suddenly alarmed that he could possibly have missed something so obvious.
    Gwen shrugged. “Probably went to get a bite to eat. I never acknowledge them, but I know the FBI guys are out there most of the day and night. I was warned that they might put a surveillance team on me, but they have never approached me or asked me any questions.”
    “Yet,” he told her. “Trust me, if they put a tag team on you, they are going to talk to you sooner or later. They’re just waiting for the right moment.”
    Gwen studied the man’s profile. “And how would you know that?”
    Dallas grinned. “Experience.”
    Gwen let her eyes linger on his lean frame. “What kind of experience would you have with the FBI?”
    “More than I care to remember.” He turned away and quickly walked toward the red barn.
    The long barn had ten wide stalls, and as they made their way down the center aisle, horses began poking their heads out from behind every stall door. The aroma of horses mixed with manure, wood shavings, and hay filled the air around Dallas. After living for so many months in the cement confines of New York City, he had forgotten how pungent the odor of these large animals could be.
    ***
    Gwen walked up to one of the stalls and held out her hand to a tall, strawberry roan. When Gwen began rubbing the animal’s long head, the horse closed his eyes and gave a loud sigh.
    “This is Fred.” Gwen scratched the horse’s head. “He came from a race track in Cajun country outside of Lafayette. He was a stall walker.” She turned to Dallas. “He paced around his stall most of the night and when race day came he was too tired to run. So they shut the door on him.”
    Dallas stared at Gwen. “Shut the door? I don’t understand.” He waved at a passing fly.
    “When a race horse is no longer profitable, many owners simply shut their stall doors and starve them to death. When the animal is dead, they pay off the vet to say the animal died of undetermined causes, so they can collect the insurance.”
    “Starve them to death?” Dallas shook his head. “You mean they literally starve them to death?”
    Gwen nodded. “No food or water; usually takes a couple of days. The lucky ones get bullets or bats to the head. The general public doesn’t know how really cruel the racing industry is to these magnificent creatures. There are only a few horses that win races, Dallas. What do you think happens to the losers? No one wants them, so they are killed off, or….” She turned back to the horse. “The lucky ones are discovered by people like me. I get anonymous tips from caring grooms or hands on the track that will let me know when they have closed the stall on an animal or marked them for termination. I go in, offer to buy the horse, and haul them away. The owners don’t care who takes the animal off their hands, as long as they can make some money out of the deal.” She looked down the shed row of stalls. “Every horse in this barn has been rescued from a race track. I fix them up and get them new homes.”
    Dallas took in all of the horses in the barn. “I never knew that went on. I guess I thought they all ended up in a pasture somewhere.” He swatted at another passing fly.
    Gwen took a step away from Fred. The horse reached out his