Page 33 of The Bratva Sinner

He leads me down the aisle. The first stall holds a stunning chestnut mare. She’s tall and lean, all muscle and power. Her coat gleams. She turns her head to watch us approach. I see the intelligence in her dark eyes.

“This is Outlaw,” Gus says.

“She’s gorgeous.” I reach out slowly, letting her sniff my hand. She does, then tosses her head like she’s decided I’m not worth her time.

I laugh. “Spirited.”

“That’s one word for it.” Gus crosses his arms. “She was supposed to be a champion racehorse. Thoroughbred, perfect bloodlines, the whole package. But she refused to race. Threw every rider they put on her. Three times during training and twice at the track. They were going to put her down.”

My hand freezes. “What?”

“Yep. Said she was too dangerous. Hay burner. A waste of money and space.” He shakes his head. “Maksim heard about it through some contact and bought her. Paid more than she was worth just to save her.”

I stare at the mare. She stares back with zero shame. She didn’t want to race, so she didn’t. And they were going to kill her for it. I respect her.

“She’s not dangerous,” I say quietly. “She just knew what she didn’t want to do.”

“That’s what Maksim said.” Gus moves to the next stall. “This one’s Midnight.”

The black Friesian is bigger than Outlaw and beautiful in a different way. This is the kind of horse collectors enjoy.

“He’s stunning.” I reach out to stroke his neck. He lowers his head so I can scratch behind his ears.

“He was a gift,” Gus says.

“A gift?” I glance at him. “From who?”

“Some woman.” He shrugs. “Figured since Maksim had stables and two other horses, he must ride. Showed up with a trailer and a bow on the halter.”

I don’t like that even though I have no reason to have an opinion. A man like Maksim probably has women throwing themselves at him constantly. Why wouldn’t one of them give him a horse?

“Does he ride?” I keep my voice casual.

“Nope.” Gus chuckles. “Told her thank you, put the horse in the stable, and that was that. I ride him sometimes to keep him exercised. He’s a good boy.”

“And this one,” Gus says, moving to the last stall, “is Willow.”

The pregnant mare is a soft, dappled gray. Her belly is swollen with the foal she’s carrying. She looks at me with gentle eyes, and I fall in love immediately.

“Oh,” I breathe, moving closer. “When is she due?”

“Another three weeks or so.” Gus reaches over to pat her neck. “She’s another rescue. Got knocked up by some random horse, not a champion or anything valuable. The owners didn’t want her or the foal. Were going to send them both to slaughter.”

“What!” The word explodes from my mouth. “What is wrong with people?”

“Maksim asked the same thing when he heard about it. Bought her the next day.”

I run my hand along Willow’s side, feeling the foal move inside. Three horses. Three castoffs. Three animals that the world decided weren’t worth keeping alive, and he saved them all.

“He makes sure they’re fed and cared for. Pays me good money to look after them.” Gus leans against the stall door. “He’s a good man, even if he doesn’t want anyone to know it.”

I lean my forehead against Willow's side and say nothing. The foal shifts gently beneath my palm.

“You know how to ride?” Gus asks.

“I do.”

“Outlaw could use some work. She needs to be exercised, but she won’t let me on her. Too stubborn.” He grins. “You’re welcome to try if you want. I’d love to see someone get that mare to cooperate.”