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though, holding a finger out. Her mind raced, trying to not just take apart the art, but also the conversation so far. It was searching for clues, arguing, screaming because she didn’t know what was happening.
     
    “I’ll tell you if you’ll answer one question.”
     
    “I don’t make deals, Maple.”
     
    She pushed anyway. “The other paintings are sensual. They are about finding beauty in the shadows. Reveling in it. This, though,” she gestured to the painting, the oil still wet and malleable, “is about reluctance. Running from demons.”
     
    J.B.’s mouth was grim, but he didn’t deny it.
     
    “Is this about me?” She finally ground out. “What are you so afraid of?”
     
    He stooped and grabbed his brush, dipping it sloppily in the black pan at his feet. “Get back to work,” he muttered, and turned his back to her.
     
    Stung, she retreated. Maple felt a lot of things. Most of them bad. She hated that his compliment had been backhanded. She wanted to know who had helped him before. She wanted him to want her as much as she wanted him. She wanted, she needed, she hated. But at least, through all of it, she felt a small amount of pride as she made her way to her room.
     
    This time she didn’t cry.
     
     

 
    Chapter Five
     
     
    She brushed down the horses, leaving Bonnie for last.
     
    And Bane.
     
    She was still angry at J.B. Thoughts of their conversation plagued her. He’d been so sexy. Dominant and predatory. Her heart raced when she thought about that. About his knowing smirk and how close he’d stood. But J.B. also managed to wound her. He expected her to quit? Didn’t he understand how much she wanted him? How much she was willing to sacrifice to be near him? Jesus… she was pathetic and she knew it. Struggling to take care of other girls in his keeping. Just to be close to him. All she had was pride in her job.

The job he didn’t even let her do in its entirety.
     
    Bane’s punishment was a thorn in her side. It was one that pushed in deeper as time went on, growing inflamed and infected. He stamped in his stall, nostrils flaring. The black eyes never left her as she put supplies in her bucket to carry into Bonnie’s stall. When she peeked in, though, the horse was sleeping. It was unusual, but as Maple watched the gentle rise and fall of the elderly horse’s flank, she decided to let Bonnie nap.
     
    Which left her with a bit of time.
     
    What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him .
     
    It wasn’t that Maple wanted to disobey J.B. Especially not with Bane, a horse with a history almost as black as hers. But that was it, wasn’t it? She’d killed someone. Bane had killed, too. At least Bane’s murder had been accidental. His only mistake was killing J.B.’s wife.
     
    Maple worked hard not to think about The Dead Wife. Raúl had let her know early on that it was something that wasn’t spoken about. Rachel. She didn’t know what Rachel had looked like, or how long they’d been married, or whether she’d known about the training--
     
    Her hand found the lock on Bane’s stall door. Shaking, she opened it. Her foot pushed the bucket of tools in.
     
    J.B.’s wife had been brained by Bane’s hooves.
     
    But Maple had led him out once and connected with him.
     
    She carried in a small stool, edging the bucket toward the massive black horse. Every movement was in slow motion. Bane stamped, and she froze. When he settled down, she closed the stall door again. She was locked inside with him.
     
    “Okay, Buddy, let’s get you groomed,” she said soothingly, not looking him in the eye. Maple moved around him, giving him space. “I’m going to brush your coat. Ready?”
     
    The brush felt foreign in her hand. It was hard not to thrust it out, wielding it like a weapon. But she knew he could be a good horse. It took trust, and it took patience, something no one seemed willing to give Bane. They only wanted to punish him.
     
    I know those feelings, Buddy .
     
    Her