He glanced back into her cell, and it was all she could do not to beg him to help her, to please call Equine Earth right here and now. Or, better still, take her with him while he checked out her credentials. Just don’t, please don’t let them put her back with the rank air and the centipedes.

She knew they’d turn off the lights soon. And she wouldn’t be able to see the bugs. And, the truth was, she was kind of wimpy for an investigative reporter-especially when it came to creepy-crawly things.

She swallowed and waited.

His broad hand reached out and latched on to one of the iron bars, bracing him beside her. He stared down for a moment. Then he took a breath. “They’ve agreed to release you into my custody.”

Relief burst through her, along with an urge to throw herself into his arms. Her elation must have shown, because his frown deepened.

“You’re not out of the woods yet,” he warned. “You’re in my custody. I’m keeping your passport, and you’ll not be permitted to leave Cadair until I figure out who you are and what you’re about.”

Julia quickly nodded her agreement.

Her story would check out. Harrison would discover she was a bona fide reporter, and he’d have no reason to suspect she was after anything other than a human-interest story.

Meanwhile, if they gave her back her purse, she’d still have the DNA sample and a chance of getting it to the lab. Plus, the Cadair staff might know something about Millions to Spare’s history. Hanging around and talking to them for a few hours could be a blessing in disguise.

Besides-she glanced around at the mottled white walls while resisting the urge to rip the gray dress from her body-whatever conditions they kept her in at Cadair Racing, it had to be a damn sight better than this.

As it turned out, the palace at Cadair Racing was about as far from a prison cell as a person could get. Harrison was definitely one of the superrich. He easily surpassed the Prestons and pretty much anybody else Julia had ever met in the horse world.