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“I was on the run yesterday, barefoot, and I didn’t have many choices,” I say. “Today, with the assurance that you won’t let my ex know I’m here.” I shrug. “I’m going to start from the ground up and do this right.”

“Suit yourself,” Viktor says. “But you might want to know that your ex did come by today. He actually said he was your employer and that you owed him a lot of money.” Viktor looks uneasy.

“He did?”

Viktor nods. “He said you’re an expert jockey, but that you like to gamble, and that you owed him more than a year’s pay.”

I can’t help cringing.

“I hate smooth talking Russian businessmen. I didn’t buy his lie.”

I exhale dramatically. “Oh, good.”

He leans closer, his mouth right next to the fence. “He beat you, didn’t he?”

I swallow.

“My sister’s husband beat her, and if I thought I could get away with it, I’d rip his head off.”

For only the second time in my life, I think that maybe there is a God, and maybe he is watching over me. When I finally walk Quicksilver to his stall that night, I lean against his head for a moment. “Thank you,” I say. “For finding me that day, and for letting me get on your back. I know you don’t want to be here, and I know that bringing you back was a pretty lousy way to reward you for saving me, but I am grateful, and I do remember my promise. Once we convince them that you’re a solid citizen and I get paid, I’ll release you.”

Although.

Now that Viktor has proven to be such a solid ally, I’m feeling worse and worse about taking his money and leaving. After all, I made this promise to a horse, and it’s not like letting him go is really the benevolent thing to do. Horses in the wild have dangerous, unsafe lives. Food isn’t sure, footing isn’t solid, and without a herd. . .

It’s starting to feel like I’ll be making the wrong decision either way.

I wish I knew where Quicksilver came from. We’re nowhere near the Russian Steppe where wild horses often roam. Letting him go, no matter how smart he is, is starting to feel a little nuts.

The next few days are a slow and steady progression, and Quicksilver continues to listen to me and match me, step for step. I’m mapping out a three-week plan when Viktor comes by. “How’s it looking?”

I point at my timeline. “I think that within a month, we’ll have some solid progress to show your boss.”

“A month?” He snorts. “That’s not fast enough.”

“You had several men break bones before I got here,” I say. “All the guys gather round because they’re expecting to watch me get hurt.”

“Still, a month’s way too long,” Viktor says. “There’s a big race in a week. Boss wants him in it.”

I stand up. “Oh, well, by all means, bring the faster guy back and let him do it. Oh, wait. Your last guy broke limbs and can’t ride for months.”

“Your boyfriend came by again today,” Viktor says.

A chill runs up my spine.

“A few of the guys overheard what he had to say. He had a photo this time, and they looked. . .interested. If I were you, I’d be more motivated to finish the job.”

Is he threatening me?

Or is he just warning me? Either way, Leonid hasn’t given up, and if he’s got a photo, no one on earth can keep this many guys quiet. It’s only a matter of time before he offers a reward. They’d all talk for that. I crumple up my timeline and draw a new one. “I could try to ride him this week, I suppose.”

Viktor smiles.

But that means, it’s time to saddle him.

Horses don’t usually scare me. After all, what’s the worst that can happen? I’ve been thrown plenty of times, and I’ve been bucked far more, but for some reason, this one scares me more than most, and I can’t figure out exactly why. Maybe it’s the bizarre awareness he seems to have that makes him feel more dangerous.

“You got a saddle on him before, you said, right?” I ask.