She blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Look, asshole, I’m glad you find this amusi . . .”

His mouth pressed hard against hers. She was less shocked that he had the audacity to kiss her than by the fact that she put up absolutely no resistance. In fact, as his lips parted hers and their tongues met, she surrendered to him completely. His hands slid inside her jacket and moved slowly over her ribs, then downward until the tips of his fingers had crept into the waistband of her jeans. He pulled her toward him until her waist was pressed firmly to his groin, her breast against his torso.

The kiss stretched on for some time before he broke it.

“Why did you do that?” she asked, breathless.

“Because it needed doing.” His hands remained where they were. “Why did you take that phone call?”

“What?”

“There was a gun at your back. Thedford ordered you to switch off the phone, but you didn’t. You answered it. Why?”

“I knew it would be my dad calling to see if I was all right. I knew that if I didn’t answer, he would … well, it would only complicate what we were trying to do.”

“We? So you believe in what we’re doing? You believe we can pull it off?”

She reached back, removed his hands, and stepped away. “No, Logan. I don’t believe that playing some stupid football game is going to save those boys’ souls.”

“Winning some stupid football game. So if you don’t think it can be done, then why are you here?”

“Because I believe in your reasons for trying.”

“Is that all?”

“No. But it’s all I’m going to say right now. Look, we’d better get to work.”

She moved past him and stepped back into the barn. It took a few seconds for her eyes to readjust to the darkness. When they did, she saw with sickening horror that Cole had already been wrong about one thing: the horses were not going to survive.

CHAPTER 27

CURTIS stepped into the interrogation room with a manila file folder tucked under his arm, a fresh cup of coffee in his hand. “Sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr. Flamont.”

“It’s been three damn hours,” Booker said. “What’s this all about, anyway? Nobody’s telling me shit.”

The sheriff took a seat at the small metal table, across from Booker. “I thought you’d like to know that your folks are outside. You’ll be able to see them shortly.”

“My old man’s here?”

“Is that a problem?”

“No.” Booker shifted uncomfortably. “No, it’s … no problem.”

“I also want to inform you that it’s your right to have an attorney present at this time. In fact, I recommend it.”

“Why would I need a lawyer when I didn’t do anything?”

“So you are electing not to have an attorney present?”