1
Shannon
Shrill whinnies and powerful snorts of horses echoed through the yard.
An unmistakable whip crack startled crows into flight from the nearby trees. Their black wings flapped like jagged shadows, as if they too could sense the storm of Niall’s anger.
Shannon’s worn Dubarry field boots thudded against the dirt as she marched toward him, flyaway strands of her dark hair drifting across her face in the bitter wind.
Knots twisted tight in her chest.
She didn’t need to see him to know what was happening. Niall’s booming voice told her everything.
“Stupid fuckin’ animal. I’m the boss here, not you.”
His booted leg lashed out, striking the chestnut gelding in the ribs. The horse flinched, its movement hampered by the lead rope taut in his gloved hand.
Niall yanked the rope, wrenching the horse’s head lower with a hard tug.
When it skittered sideways, its muscles trembling, he lost control.
With a snap of his wrist, he flicked the rope like a whip; the end slicing through the air. The horse panicked, eyes wide in terror, as it fought against him.
Shannon came to an abrupt stop just behind him, her stomach churning.
“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded. Niall lashed out again, and the edges of her vision dimmed to black. “Stop it, Niall.”
The horse’s nostrils flared, its coat slick with sweat.
Niall stood firm, legs planted wide, his posture a twisted monument of self-assurance and anger.
The deep creases of his scowl made him seem less a man and more a looming threat, a storm about to break.
“Trust you to stick your fucking nose in where it doesn’t belong,” he spat, glaring over his shoulder. “Back off, Shannon. This horse needs to know who’s the boss.”
His eyes locked onto hers. “And so do you, apparently. Want me to fuck you against the fence after I teach this thing manners?”
Asshole.
Her pulse hammered in her throat, the anger inside her seething. She fought the urge to tear the rope from his hand and shove him away from the mare, but she stayed still.
She couldn’t give him the satisfaction of a confrontation. The horse wasn’t the only one under Niall’s control.
“We all know you’re the boss, Niall. Now let me take her.” The lie tasted like acid in her mouth.
In truth, he was nothing more than a spoiled, arrogant bully. But she wasn’t naïve enough to challenge him again.
“Get back to work, Shannon. I’ve got this under control,” he snapped.
“What the hell?” a gravelly voice barked from behind her.
The yard manager joined them, his broad shoulders rigid with tension. His dark eyes scanned the scene, fists clenched tight at his sides.
“You beat that horse again, boy, and I’ll shove my fist so far down your throat it’ll meet your ass.”
Niall staggered back, still tugging the lead rope. A smirk twisted his lips, his arrogance unbothered. “Yeah, and I’ll fire you, Bucky.”
“That’ll be hard to do when you’re breathing out of a fucking tube,” Bucky shot back, walking slowly toward the horse.
