Dark Sexy Knight (A Modern Fairytale)(54)

After a hand-to-hand combat practice session with Sebastian that lasted for most of the afternoon, Colt decided to check on Thor. Before meeting Verity, Colt had spent a lot of his free time with Thor, and he felt a little bad that his old friend was being a bit neglected, so he stole a carrot and apple from the kitchen and planned to visit with him for a little while before tonight’s show.

But as he entered the practice ring, he couldn’t miss the sound of Artie’s voice coming from the direction of éclair’s stall, delivering an onslaught of abuse. As Colt got closer, he slowed his steps to listen.

“. . . goddamned retard. I asked you to stay the f*ck away from my mount. What didn’t you understand?”

“But, Artie, it’s my job to give ’em—”

“Are you deaf and dumb? It’s your job to do as I say!”

“I ain’t deaf, but I got to change their water. Joe said—”

“Fuck Joe and f*ck you, you moron. I’ll teach you a lesson you won’t forget.”

Colt sped up, rounding the corner of the barn just in time to see Artie, at the way back of the barn, turn on the hose full blast and point it at Ryan. It was a high-pressure hose used for cleaning the stalls, and Ryan yelped as the cold water, aimed at his face, made contact with his cheeks, stinging like a thousand frozen needles.

“Stop!” yelled Colt, surging into the stable and beelining for Artie, who was grinning from ear to ear as the sharp prickles of cold water pelted Ryan’s skin.

“Have I got your attention, retard?” asked Artie, spraying the hose down Ryan’s body—at his shirt, at his crotch, all up and down his pants as Ryan shrieked and cowered. “Stay away from—”

“FUCKING STOP!”

Colt plowed into Artie with all his might, and the hose went flying from Artie’s hands as he hit the cement ground hard, landing on his backside. Colt quickly turned off the water, then turned to Ryan.

His heart clenched to see Verity’s brother crouched down beside éclair’s stall door, covering his head with his hands, rocking back and forth as he mewled and cried.

“You’re f*cking crazy, Lane!”

Colt turned around, skewering Artie with furious eyes as he advanced upon him. “I heard what you said to him. I saw what you were doing. You’re lucky I don’t f*cking—”

“Ver’ty . . . Ver’ty . . . Ver’ty . . .,” keened Ryan.

Squelching the strong instinct to beat Artie to a pulp, Colt turned back to Ryan, squatting down in front of him and laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Hey, buddy. It’s all over now.”

“Ver’ty. I need Ver’ty,” he sobbed.

“How ’bout you and I try to work this out between us, huh?” he said as gently as he could with his anger swirling like a dark storm cloud inside.

“How about you tell him not to come near my f*cking horse again?” demanded Artie, who was back on his feet behind Colt.

Without removing his hand from Ryan’s shoulder, Colt turned to look at piece-of-shit Artie. His voice was thick with rage. “How about you offer Ryan an apology and then get the f*ck out of my sight before I rearrange your face?”

“Fuck you, Lane. And f*ck you too, Gwynn,” said Artie, brushing some straw from his T-shirt.

The gathering storm inside started swirling, and Colt narrowed his eyes at Artie, his voice lethal. “Fucking. Say. Sorry.”

A bit of uncertainty slipped into Artie’s eyes.

“Stay away from my f*cking mount, Gwynn,” said Artie, running a hand through his hair, “and we won’t have a f*cking problem.”

Colt watched Artie stalk out of the barn, at war with himself. On the one hand, he wanted to chase after Artie and slam his fist into his face. He ached for the fight. He was spoiling for it, and f*ck, Artie deserved it. But on the other hand, Verity’s brother, the “sweet place” of his sweetheart, was crouched on the ground crying, barely able to speak. In the end, Ryan’s needs won out over Colt’s fierce desire to teach Artie a lesson.

Another time, he told himself. Another time I’ll settle that score. Not now. Not now, while Ryan needs me.

Gently he rubbed Ryan’s shoulder. “Artie’s gone, buddy. He’s gone now.”

Ryan moved one of his hands a little and peeked out between his fingers, looking around the stable. “All gone?”

“Yeah. It’s okay. Come on.”

Colt took his arm and urged him to stand up, surveying the damage as Ryan Gwynn straightened. His clothes were drenched, and his cheeks were bright red from the sting of the hose. But it was his eyes that bothered Colt the most—they were wide and frightened and deeply confused about why Artie had unleashed such cruelty upon him.

Colt spoke gently with his hand still on Ryan’s arm, “I need you to stay away from éclair for now, okay?”

“I gotta change his water, Colton.”

“Naw. I’ll talk to Joe. Joe can change his water, okay? I don’t want you in here anymore.”

“I’m good with horses.”

“’Course you are, Ryan, but Artie’s an *, and I don’t like the way he treats you. No more éclair, you hear?”

“Okay. Bye, éclair,” he said mournfully, looking at the chestnut horse.