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but from his life on the streets as well. It took two days to recover and rehydrate his body. Kai had been surprised to wake in a soft bed, with a big, red horse whickering through the mosquito screen of the patio door.
    Thinking back on it, his stunt had been stupid. No man in his right mind would mount a strange horse, let alone bareback. Yet, Vermillion had wanted to play, and it seemed only reasonable to ride up to the barn and thank his host. Kai rode his bicycle with a preternatural sense of balance—surely a horse would be no different.
    Vermillion.
    Kai’s broad mouth stretched into a wistful smile as he upturned the wheelbarrow of horse manure onto the pile. Once its surface dried, it smelled almost sweet. Clean. Wholesome. It held potential for growth, unlike the reek of old cigars at Frankie’s or the reek of decaying produce by the loading dock he had called home for over six weeks.
    He looked up the hill toward the paddock where the red stallion spent time with an older, more experienced gelding. Sensational Snowfall didn’t tolerate any nonsense from Vermillion—none whatsoever—and the bite marks on the red horse’s neck and bleeding hoof prints on his chest attested to Sen’s stern discipline. Sen would not be bitten, mounted, kicked, or bullied by the rowdy, seven-year-old newcomer. Sen knew what was required of him: his even temper and excellent training, together with his dignified Lipizzaner stature, were well suited to the process of civilizing the newcomer.
    It occurred to Kai that he, with his long, rust-colored hair and uncouth street slang, wasn’t all that different from the red horse. He learned to keep his mouth shut for the most part, but that didn’t change the fact that Kai, too, was also in need of civilizing. The influence of his boss was gentler than the bites and kicks of Sen, and for that he was grateful. Kai looked up to Attila and tried to emulate his well-bred bearing and well-read language. He was still hard-pressed to meet Attila’s eyes. The sable-haired man’s mercurial gaze was too penetrating, threatening to strip him of his well-built defenses and leave him bare, naked to inspection. Leaving him vulnerable to rejection once the horse trainer came to his senses and realized he had adopted a street urchin to handle his prized horses, shovel manure in his clean barn, and take up residence in the guest room of his tidy house. Kai swallowed at the thought of being discovered for the unworthy lowlife he really was. He’d be kicked out again, left to make ends meet on the street. It had happened before. He thought of Nelby, and the unwelcome memory of Nelby was hard to banish from his mind.
     
     
    “Y ER two months back on the rent, asshole, and if you can’t find a regular job, then you can run messages for me.”
    Kai had recently become aware of the nature of Nelby’s messages: little baggies of white powder went out, brown paper lunch bags of cash came in. “I can’t do that.” He refused to sink that low. He wasn’t running drugs. Not now, not ever.
    “Then I’ll hold on to your things until you come up with the cash, Kai.” A wide, unpleasant grin split Nelby’s face, accentuating his high cheekbones and his stringy, sandy hair. “Either you take this back to the corner of Butler and 42nd Street, or you get outta here right this second.”
    “Okay.” Kai straightened his shoulders. At six feet tall, he was almost a foot shorter than Nelby. His well-muscled body would have helped, had Nelby not been armed. Kai never lost awareness of the Glock Nelby wore in a holster in the small of his back. “Lemme get my stuff, then, and I’ll be outta your hair.” Kai took a step toward the sofa where he used to sleep. His guitar, backpack, and a small rolling suitcase of books and clothing were in sight.
    “No you don’t. You leave your shit right here.”
    “Nelby. I need my wallet and stuff. They’ll want an ID when I apply for a job.”
    Nelby’s wide grin