And Reardon was beating Nightshade with a quirt. The lash came down again and then again before Sasha’s shock vanished and she launched herself at Reardon. “No!”

She was reaching desperately for the quirt, kicking at his shins. Her boot made contact, and she heard him swear. Her fist struck his mouth.

“Get the bitch off me!”

And then Davidow was pulling her away from Reardon. She was fighting him, too, struggling to get back to Reardon. “Let me go. You saw him, Davidow. He was hurting her. That whip…He has to be crazy. Who would whip Nightshade? She’s the gentlest horse I’ve ever known.”

“I was afraid you’d cause him trouble,” Davidow said. “Don’t be stupid. He can do what he wants with her.”

“But it doesn’t make any sense.” But cruelty never made sense. Reardon’s expression as he’d lifted that whip had been a devil’s face. He was turning toward her now, those pale-hazel eyes flickering with rage. He took a step toward her. “Yes, I can do what I want with her. Because she belongs to me. Just as I can do anything with you.” The quirt came down hard across her chest. “Like this.”

Pain.

“At least that makes some sense,” she said fiercely. “Because I want to hurt you. She didn’t do anything. There’s no reason.”

“She’s a racehorse.” The lash came down again across her hips. “She’s supposed to race. She acted as if she wasn’t even trying when she was out there today with Chaos. No horse I own will perform like that.”

“She was trying. She was doing exactly what I wanted. They both were.”

The lash came down again. “Then you’re the one to be punished. You’re teaching my horse not to do as I wish. Take her into the stable, Davidow. She doesn’t want me to beat Nightshade? Then I’m going to let her take her place.”

“What a fool you are,” Davidow muttered as he dragged Sasha into the first stall they came to and threw her on her stomach on the straw. “You should have just let him do it. She’s only a horse. Reardon beats all his horses whenever he has an excuse. I think it gives him a rush. But Masenak isn’t going to like any of this. I’ll call him and see if he can do anything with Reardon to stop it. Until then just take it and don’t fight Reardon. If you just let him get his kicks and do a little damage, you might live through this.”

Then he was gone.

But Reardon had come into the stall.

“Such a small, lovely body. Such a pretty back.” His hand ran down her spine. “I wonder how long it will take to heal…”

And the quirt came down with full force on her back.

*  *  *

9 P.M.
20 Hours to Race Time