Chapter 4

The whisper of the grass as the horses moved through it. The creak of the leather saddles. The usual choir of crickets and toads and other nightly creatures, including the occasional forlorn owl and, much to Mica’s dismay, the howl of a coyote.

Not for the first time he wondered where exactly they were headed, and judging by the low grade pain in his back they’d been riding for quite a few hours. What he wouldn’t have given at that moment to have a hot tub to relax in, one of the jets positioned to hit him in the lower back. Maybe a glass of wine, some candles, a good looking man to keep him company…

At least I’ve got the man.