A Stallion Dream. Deborah Fletcher Mello

to show me, my characters and our stories. I can’t begin to express how grateful I am.

      Until the next series and the next family and definitely the next story, please take care, and may God’s blessings be with you always.

      With much love,

      Deborah Fletcher Mello

       www.DeborahMello.Blogspot.com

      To Nanette Kelley! You have renewed my faith! I can play in the sandbox again, and I am grateful that you are there to share in the joy with me! I love you to pieces!

      Contents

       Cover

       Back Cover Text

       About the Author

Booklist

       Title Page

       Copyright

       Introduction

       Dear Reader

       Dedication

       Chapter 1

       Chapter 2

       Chapter 3

       Chapter 4

       Chapter 5

       Chapter 6

       Chapter 7

       Chapter 8

       Chapter 9

       Chapter 10

       Chapter 11

       Chapter 12

       Chapter 13

       Extract

       About the Publisher

       Chapter 1

      “Collin! Collin! Hey, Collin!”

      Collin Stallion winced as his little brother—Matthew Jacoby Stallion Junior, affectionately known as Jake—screamed for his attention. His younger sibling was somewhere on the other side of the family home, his high-pitched squeal sounding like fingernails grating against a chalkboard. Collin had only been back for a few short hours and the ten-year old had been screaming his name every few minutes like clockwork. He’d screamed for Collin to come see his new Black Panther toys. He’d screamed for Collin to come play video games on his Xbox system. He’d screamed for Collin every time his big brother managed to get out of his sight. Jake screaming his name had begun to wear on his big brother’s nerves.

      Their mother moved into the room, swiping her hands on a dish towel. Katrina Stallion laughed warmly, “He missed you, Collin. Cut him some slack.”

      “I know, Mom, but I’m going to be here for a minute. Do we really have to catch up on everything in one day?”

      Collin’s mother laughed again, “Your little brother is ecstatic to have you home. He idolizes you. So, please, don’t you give him a hard time. By tomorrow he’ll be back to his regular routine and isn’t going to care about you being around until you get ready to leave again.”

      Before Collin could respond, Jake came bounding into the room, still yelling out his brother’s name. “Collin!”

      Collin took a deep breath and held it for a brief second before he answered. “Yes, Jake? What’s up, buddy?” He dropped the book he’d been reading to his lap.

      “There’s a man at the door for you.”

      “For me?”

      Jake nodded. “He says it’s important. He has a delivery for you.”

      Collin shot his mother a look, puzzlement shifting between them. Katrina shrugged her narrow shoulders, having no answers about who was seeking him out or what they wanted. Collin slid his book onto the coffee table and stood up.

      Jake grabbed his hand and tugged. “Come on,” he chided, a silly grin widening across his face. The youngster pulled his brother through the family home to the foyer and the front door.

      A well-dressed man wearing tan linen slacks and a white dress shirt smiled in greeting. “Good afternoon, sir. Are you Collin Stallion?”

      “Yes, I am. How may I help you?”

      “I just need to confirm your identification and then get your signature, Mr. Stallion,” the man said as he extended a metal clipboard in Collin’s direction.

      Collin scanned the documents attached, noting a delivery receipt that required his signature to acknowledge his acceptance. “I’m sorry, but what is this for?” he asked.

      The man took a step back and gestured over his shoulder. Sitting in the driveway of the Sunnybrook Lane property, directly in front of the four-car garage, was a black-on-black Mercedes C-300 sedan with a huge red bow adorning the hood. The brand-new vehicle was gleaming under the midday sun, looking like it had been spit-polished with multiple coats of car wax. The windows were tinted, and new sports rims adorned the frame.

      “There’s a card,” the man said, gesturing to the paperwork in Collin’s hand. “But I do need your signature first, sir!”

      Still puzzled, Collin read through the fine print quickly, then scribbled his moniker across the dotted line. He handed the clipboard back. The deliveryman snatched a duplicate copy from the bottom of the document and passed it and an envelope to Collin. He reached into his pocket for a set of keys and passed them to him, as well. “Congratulations,” he said as he did an about-face and stepped down off the porch.

      Collin stepped out of the house after the man. He watched as the stranger slid into the passenger seat of the Mercedes dealership’s