Perfect Timing Read Free Page A

to puke. No . It just couldn’t happen. Clint was loyal to the bone. He’d never love anyone but Loni.
    “You wanna hear the worst part?” Clint asked. “She’s clinging to life by a thread, and that vision of a third child is her only hope. What if she looks into my eyes and sees I’m not convinced, that I believe the doctors and not her?”
    Quincy had no clue how to respond. His mind kicked into autopilot. Get there. He had to help his brother. “I’ll book a charter flight. I can be there with you in three hours.”
    “No. As great as it’d be to see you, I’m honoring Loni’s wishes and taking her home this morning. We’ll be there by late afternoon. Dad and Dee Dee flew out last night and are at their place now, probably sleeping off the red-eye flight. Parker and Rainie just left for the airport. Zach and Mandy are staying with me to provide moral support, and they’ll fly back with me and Loni on the charter jet.”
    “But, Clint, you need me right now.”
    “What I need is for you to be there looking after my place. If I come home to a disaster in my stable, I’ll lose it, I swear to God. I’m counting on you.”
    Quincy nodded. “You got it, bro. Everything at your ranch is running like clockwork, and I’ll see that it stays that way. If need be, I’ll call Dad for help.”
    “Good. I’ll see you tonight?”
    “Yeah, I’ll mosey over when I wrap it up for the day.”
    Quincy ended the call and stared blankly at his iPhone, a recent purchase that did everything but tap-dance. Too bad it couldn’t also perform a miracle and save the life of his sister-in-law. As he slowly became aware of his surroundings again, he realized that making his feet move took a gargantuan effort. With only determination fueling him, he strode toward the north end of the arena to enter by the personnel door.
    If anything on earth soothed Quincy, it was being in the arena-cum-stable at the break of dawn before any of his employees arrived to disturb the quiet. He loved the smells that were synonymous with horses—freshly turned straw, molasses-coated grain, hay waiting to be forked, and manure. The fabulous aroma of frying bacon from his forewoman Pauline’s upstairs viewing-room apartment added to the bouquet. Though Quincy no longer ate bacon, he still appreciated the scent.
    As was his habit, he made his rounds, visiting every mare and stallion to make sure all was well before ending his tour at Beethoven’s stall. The stud was Quincy’s special baby, and for reasons he’d never clearly defined, he always lingered with him the longest, finding a sense of peace that seemed to elude him everywhere else. Beethoven, a gorgeous black, nickered in greeting and stepped over for his morning ration of petting. The horse was such a love bug that Quincy often joked that Beethoven would morph into a lapdog if he could. The huge beast laid his massive head on Quincy’s shoulder, chuffing and rubbing cheeks, a show of affection that always dislodged Quincy’s black Stetson. Prepared, Quincy caught the hat before it hit the ground.
    “Hey, buddy,” he whispered around the logjam in his throat. “I hope your morning is off to a better start than mine.”
    Beethoven grunted, a contented sound that told Quincy the horse was as happy as a mouse in a cheese factory. He smiled and scanned the stall, checking to make sure all was as it should be. His gaze slid over the far left corner and then jerked back to a lump of green that didn’t belong there. He stared for a moment at what appeared to be a woman asleep in the straw. What the hell? Surely it was only a trick of the light. His ranch was armed to the teeth with high-tech security, and that was especially true in the arena, with every door, window, skylight, and paddock gate wired to an alarm. If anyone entered without punching in the pass code, which was changed frequently, a siren went off loudly enough to burst eardrums. Quincy had heard nothing.
    And yet—well,